Thursday, July 9, 2015

tip of the hat

I miss polite society.  
I wish men still wore hats.  
And not baseball caps turned backwards or sideways.  
I wish men wore hats that they would tip at you and say 
"Good Morning, Ma'am."

Hats tipping.

Oh goodness.
Tell me where they have gone.

Wednesday, July 8, 2015

Just Now :: 7.8.15

in my belly:  granola cereal (girls aren't home, mama is not making dinners)
out the window: hydrangeas in bloom
in my ears:  Heartbeats by Jose Gonzalez, never tire of this song
by my bedside: Amity & Sorrow by Peggy Riley
watching: Enough Said, love movies with realistic characters, made me laugh out loud
wishing: for a getaway, but that's a bit far off
feeling: lost without my girls
learning: to strike up a daily writing regimen
loving: my little foster kittens, and hoping they find furrever homes soon

the love list:
this recipe, so easy, and perfect for summer
this list of books
this photo, because gosh i love the royals
this is still one of my favorite kittencam moments ever
really, really want to see this movie
if it's summer, why am i thinking about christmas

Tuesday, July 7, 2015

writing awakened

Here she was.

It was supposed to be a writing prompt.

A flash fiction to get the juices flowing.

From the photo I found above.

Then I remembered an idea I had scribbled before.

Then I heard this song.

I posted these words from the song on the wall.

  My actual wall above my desk.

And I've been up for two nights clipping other photos and hanging.
Inspiration. Guides.
And writing....actually writing.
Not developing characters.
Not fighting with an outline.
Just writing.

Mix one part nature.
One part solitude.
One part soul searching.
and finish with a love story.

I feel like I have been reawakened.

Monday, July 6, 2015

silent house

I'm not used to no one being here.  I always think I will revel in the quiet until it is just too quiet.  My girls have been gone five days, another seven days until they return.  I am a little lost without them. The house feels frighteningly big.  I try to remember those days I would hold my head and wish for solitude.  Solitude, your tricky thing you.  I make the most of it, knowing it's a tiny glimpse of what is to come.