Wednesday, July 22, 2009
I'm caught in a marvelous but frustrating landing pattern where there are simply not enough hours in the day. Boychild wakes me up too early, sacrosanct morning, babynap, writing, toddler activity, luncheon, babynap, writing, toddler activity, supper, bedtime, editing, writing, trying desperately to watch Clash of the Titans with Dr. Krog, go to bed too late.
So I thought that instead of using my time in Photoshop, I'd just show you the pictures, make pithy comments, and get back to page 60 of my novel.
Girlchild triumphs over panda bear.
Girlchild triumphs over somewhat skinny elephant.
Girlchild triumphs over unruly spigot.
Girlchild triumphs over modern art. Mondrian meets Louise Nevelson?
Boychild triumphs over gravity and his great-grandmother's sensibilities.
"He's too young to do that!" she says.
Like I can stop him, the little jerk.
And, yes, I triumph over my lifelong mental roadblocks by reaching page 60 of my book. The book I've been meaning to write since I turned 4. I wasn't going to tell anybody until I hit page 100 and it started to feel "real", but it feels quite real enough, and I need the excuse for my lack of blogging and social discourse.
Please. Never ask me in public about my "novel". And don't ask me what it's about. I'm very shy. And I'll just stick my tongue out at you.