fireflies

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."

Ma'am.

Hats tipping.

Gentlemen.

Oh goodness.

Tell me where they have gone.

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

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.

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.

Just Now :: June 8, 2015

current time: frantic morning
in my belly: scrambled eggs, eaten in a rush this morning, between feeding all the animals.
out the window: gray skies, hopefully clearing
in my ears:  morning prayers on the way to work from here.
by my bedside: The Apothecary by Maile Meloy, a recommendation from my daughter
watching: still trying to finish the last episode of Call The Midwife
wishing: for four day weekends, two for work, two for play
feeling: like things in my life are falling into place
learning: how to foster five scampy kittens, brought our first litter of four-week old kittens home Saturday to prepare for adoption.
good things:  tanned daughters that smell like sunscreen, fresh strawberries that fall right off the stem into your mouth, tiny kittens full of floof and purrs, freshly washed sheets, good friends who are always there to help out.

the love list:
book recommendations from parnassus
this blog i found via pinterest
these fried honey bananas
the story of this priest
never stop loving raffi
young girls and puppies learning together

the neglected house

I've neglected this space again.  The hazy windows are cracked and the ivy is climbing through. A layer of dust has collected over everything, cobwebs trail from the corners. If you step through the creaking door, there is a scuffling of something small in the corner, perhaps looking for a lost crumb that has been left behind.

That's how I see my blog right now.  Empty. Vacant. Forgotten. Forlorn.

The truth is I'm not sure what to make of this space right now.  It doesn't know what it wants to be and I hate to keep reinventing over and over as it makes me feel even more like the scatterbrain that I already know I am.

I'm tired of trying on personas that don't quite fit.
I'm tired of trying to think of ways to market to make something of myself.
I'm tired of giving up before I even get started.
And I'm terrified of making wrong decisions.
Hence the fits of starts and stops.

I'm discerning this year.
So many calls.
Which one is the right one?
Start. Stop. Start.

I know the end.  I can picture it in my mind.
But how to get there?
Especially since it is a road less traveled,
a road that thins out the closer I draw near
to the photo in my mind of pure happiness.

Perhaps that is the key.

Perhaps this place, this blog of mine
needs to be that picture in my mind.
Perhaps I need to see This Quiet House
as I have described it here.

Except to sweep out the dust and the cobwebs.
To open the windows, chase out the birds
that are living in the shadows
and let life breathe into it again.