Well I have to write something.

Something.

There I did it.

I'm losing my edge because I'm letting myself drift. It wasn't okay in December and it's not okay now. My mind plays tricks on me like, "Well look at all the good months you got in. One or two bad ones won't hurt." But they do hurt. The longer I'm away from the keyboard, the harder it gets to come back. One month becomes two, that becomes three, and before you know it I'll hit December with the same goal I had last December--get back to writing regularly.

So let's pretend June is December. It's time to start making those 10 minute sessions happen whether I want them to or not. I have to put an end to this scattered feeling.

I want a project. Why oh why can I not settle on a project? I can't get excited about anything. I wanted to walk--not doing that. Want to make time to get to the pool--haven't done that. I'm always being gobbled up by fixing things or rearranging things or paying bills. Hey I finally got the accounting back to organized, so maybe that's a start. I wish I had a regular day, with regular hours that I could plot and plan and not have jumbled on me from the beginning. That will only happen if/when R has regular working hours. I can't make it happen all by myself. I've tried. I can't make him understand that the interruptions and the delays just derail every plan I've made for the entire day. I don't mind the interruptions that are unavoidable, but with a little planning and forethought on his part, I could parcel out my day to include the things he needs done. But he'll never be that way. When he needs it, he needs it now. "It" can be anything from phone calls to finding old receipts. Do it now, drop everything. Arg. I'm going crazy. I need some order. NEED it.

The clouds were phenomenal today. I have to practice describing the sky. I watched the sun finish coming up from the porch among my petunias. I don't think I was more contented all day. I sit out there and think of things like "salmon and smoke" and "high clouds smeared like ashes across the pale morning sky." But it doesn't do justice to the layers and the way the colors change. One mass behind a pink tinged cotton-mass will go from vanilla ice cream white to a more subdued, grayed white and then can even deepen into gray. Some of the clouds clot, like cream and others climb in thin sweeps that catch the light. Then these fronts (for lack of a better word) would come in from the north and turn the sky the most incredible deep blue. Only it wasn't really sky--it was clouds. Then there would be a thinning in a spot, a gap in the blanket that would be a blue-green--another layer of clouds behind. I want to grab a camera, to keep it. But I have to be content to be in awe, love it and let it go. And feel that satisfaction that doesn't come from any other thing.

We did get rain. Not nearly enough, but it did rain off and on for a good part of the day. Papa and son spent the day fishing. It was good for both of them. The house was quiet and I did get caught up on laundry and some cleaning. I have an ASL presentation tomorrow that keeps nattering through my head with a clack rather like an insistant typist. My hands will start flying in the middle of something and I wonder sometimes what people think when they see me "talking" to myself.

Okay, this feels good. I have missed this. My plan is to be back tomorrow after ASL class.

What are you writing?