Elusive sleep

Imagine, a hangover. But not from cocktails.

A heavy head, filled with fog. Thick and soupy, full of words that won’t transmit.

Distractions.

A fantasy filled with desire and hope.

Longing.

There is no time, no peace, no focus.

But it will come. It has to.

The story takes shape, slowly, like the torso of a snowman. Getting bigger, fatter.

Until it melts. Again.

Sleep eludes. The wifi beckons. It never sleeps.

Maybe the words will form at dawn.

Maybe not.

Imagine a writer

Imagine a writer. A house full of family. Noise and clutter.

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Thoughts about gift giving, writing and She Sheds

To be quite honest, I don’t really believe in this whole gift giving thing at Christmas anymore. Sure, let the kids have some presents, but for myself, I honestly don’t need or even want anything.

Which doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate the token. I’m just saying, save your money. 🙂

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A day of mishaps

I will begin my story with the happy ending: I’m home, no one was hurt, maimed, killed or sent to jail today despite the weather that could have caused all of the above, and I have tea and a pecan butter tart.

Still interested in my many mishaps? Read on, then…

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Rules for women who travel alone in the 1850s

A few months ago I stumbled across a rather interesting (and ridiculous) historical article which described how to have sex with your husband in the 1960s. The rules the women were taught to follow are hugely out of place in today’s society, but it nevertheless served as an insight to how things used to be (in the not too distant past) and, what’s more, how things still are in many societies today.

This morning I came across another similar article, but this one has to do with travel. More specifically, how a woman in the 1850s was to travel if she didn’t have a male escort to accompany her.

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Getting to know one another: questions and answers

Thank you Michael of Kuched for having nominated me for an award.

I will answer his questions first, then nominate my list of people below along with my set of questions.

PS Michael has made me part of his morning routine. I am a ‘fix’ apparently. Hah. He also thinks I secretly rule the world…pfff. AS IF! Here is what he said about me:

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Chore day

Actually, there is no such thing as a designated chore day, at least not in my family. Partly this is because weekends belong to youth sports and everyone is in divide and conquer mode…but, if by some small miracle there is a big part of unfilled space on the calendar, and I see everyone sitting staring at tv screens or whatever, I get a little twitchy.

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