I decided to take June off from writing. After all, with moving, sending my daughter on a mission trip to Ghana, and helping my parents and sister move, I knew I’d have little time. I have been diligent, even when I have wanted to hide in a closet with my laptop, my fingers itching to see words appear on my screen, my mind scraping at pieces of my work-in-progress, trying to remember details, see the next bend in the story. But I have been disciplined. I have resisted. I have rested, dadgumit!
Well, not rested exactly, but rested from writing, rested from the people in my head that clamor for me to tell their story. In the meantime my hands and feet have been busier than ever—moving boxes and furniture, organizing shelves, even wielding my power screwdriver to complete small projects! I drop into bed exhausted at night, but it’s a good exhaustion. It’s physical exhaustion more than mental (although that’s still there, too!) And it has shown me where I was lacking before—physical exercise.
I see now that some form of physical exertion in my day is no longer an option, but a necessity. I need it to think more clearly. I need it to sleep more deeply. So I’m revamping my daily routine come July, when my life kicks in again.
I guess that’s why I needed a vacation—of sorts. I just hope the combination of writing and exercise brings the excitement and energy I am envisioning!
6/19/2006
6/02/2006
Moving Mayhem
We own two houses. Sounds decadent, doesn’t it? Actually, it’s chaotic. And nightmarish. Half of our stuff is in one house, half in the other. Can you imagine making a 20 minute journey (each way, mind you) just to do laundry (which, by the way, I do at least every other day?)
My internet is up in the new house. All my books and writing files are still ensconced in the old. My favorite chair is here. My bed is there. And the list goes on.
I don’t know how much writing will get done in the next couple of weeks, but if the old house would sell, I don’t think I’d care. Three kids. Two houses. One husband. How much more can a girl handle?
My internet is up in the new house. All my books and writing files are still ensconced in the old. My favorite chair is here. My bed is there. And the list goes on.
I don’t know how much writing will get done in the next couple of weeks, but if the old house would sell, I don’t think I’d care. Three kids. Two houses. One husband. How much more can a girl handle?
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