How a list of blog posts that I could write becomes as informative as a blog post

I find myself with no words, after they've finally stopped kicking their little legs and have let go of the day.  Other than the occasional sleep twitches, they are still.

I think to myself, "I should write."  Then I second-guess myself.  "But what would I write?"

I am a woman who should never run out of things to write.  I have one million and a half things to write about, all around me.  But I don't seem to have a lot of chances to collect my thoughts, lately.  I have some half written blog posts in my brain.

*Leafy turned three, I have a sack of love words to throw together in a letter for him.

*A man thought that I was screeching to a halt on my scooter and then reversing just to say hello to him, and was understandably flattered.

*YaYa's art amazes me every. single. day.  She draws a new animal everyday, in worlds that are filled with laughing people with crinkled-shut eyes, a mommy elephant and a baby elephant on top of ground that has a mommy worm and a baby worm in it, but then no!  The mommy worm has turned into a mommy elephant-worm and the baby worm has turned into an elephant baby worm! And here's a giraffe, in the rain, with a person on his back, laughing, and there's a rainbow.  And a house with a bird standing on top, singing.  And a person singing with a wide pink mouth, notes floating up into the sky.

No one shows her how to draw like this.  I could look at her drawings forever.  You'd better be glad you don't live next door, or I'd be running over every day with my daughter's INCREDIBLE DRAWINGS!  (If Cate read my blog she'd be thinking, But wait, I do live next door... so that's why she's always running over here with her daughter's Incredible Drawings.)

*Speaking of Cate, she is going through a labor of love, designing and overseeing the construction of our rooftop meditation space.  She's so amazing at designing and putting together things like this space.  I feel lucky that it's on my rooftop.

*Speaking of meditations, I led one last week.  It was an imagination  meditation based on the story of the woman at Jesus' feet, the one who wept and kissed his feet, and wiped them with her hair.  Gosh, it was incredible to really sink into the story.  But the memorable part of the day was the attempt to sabotage which is a longtime bad habit of mine.  Just get me leading something or speaking somewhere, or I don't know- taking a day off, and I'll sabotage it as quick as you can say I'm about to eat a purple cabbage raw.

(Here's a hint.  I do it because I'm afraid of failing.)

This particular sabotage was the always-effective fight with Chinua.  It doesn't matter what you fight about, any argument will do.  This one was rather ridiculous.  Here's a little taste for you, since I'm shameless and it's funny:

R: Weren't you supposed to be helping me have time to prepare for tonight's meditation?

C: I am helping you.  I'm watching the baby.

R: That's not helping.  I can still hear him.

C: But he's not fussing.

R:  But if he does start fussing, I won't be able to concentrate.

C:  So you want me to leave the house altogether?

R:  Yes.

C:  How about this.  If he starts fussing, I'll leave the house.

R:  But then I'll KNOW that he's fussing, and I'll be thinking about him fussing...


R: Plus, it's bothering me that you're just sitting there.  I can't concentrate.

C:  I'm not even talking to you.  You're the one talking to me!


And there you are.

But the meditation actually went really well.  There are reasons why I mostly choose to write, though, and they have something to do with the fact that you can just sit down and go tappity tappity on the keyboard and there isn't a lot of time to sabotage anything.  I think.

*I just pulled a really big beetle out of my hair.

*And with that, I'm off to bed, because MY SISTER is arriving tomorrow and I have to get up at 4:00 to go and get her.  WHA?