Would you love to?

Artist Kristen Powers is hosting a giveaway for a spot in the SoulFood Class... take a look!

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I'm in the sand... but not at the beach

Do you ever just get tired of deleting? Writing post after post, msg or blog note, email or journal entry... only to backspace it or scrap the whole thing... perhaps that's the way this will go too. It's not nerves necessarily, or even the "feeling or worthiness" ... Lazy? perhaps. Frustrated? Maybe that. Worried about readers... No... seriously not that one.  Is it just me? Am I the only one guilty of this? Probably not.

Whatever this is...  I have a good solid case of it. I dream lately of being in the sand, digging relentlessly... last night, I was in a bird cage, little door open, digging... sand everywhere, me with a pretty green sand shovel scooping away, tossing one pile out only to sink further down.  I know there is a message here.  I'm not learning it obviously, as it's been a month or better that I've been digging.  In the car, in the yard, with friends looking on, my mother telling me I have sand in my hair... fairly consistently... digging.

What doesn't make sense to me is this:  I have a good support system here... and yet I'm digging.

And deleting.

I'm in the sand... but not at the beach

Do you ever just get tired of deleting? Writing post after post, msg or blog note, email or journal entry... only to backspace it or scrap the whole thing... perhaps that's the way this will go too. It's not nerves necessarily, or even the "feeling or worthiness" ... Lazy? perhaps. Frustrated? Maybe that. Worried about readers... No... seriously not that one.  Is it just me? Am I the only one guilty of this? Probably not.

Whatever this is...  I have a good solid case of it. I dream lately of being in the sand, digging relentlessly... last night, I was in a bird cage, little door open, digging... sand everywhere, me with a pretty green sand shovel scooping away, tossing one pile out only to sink further down.  I know there is a message here.  I'm not learning it obviously, as it's been a month or better that I've been digging.  In the car, in the yard, with friends looking on, my mother telling me I have sand in my hair... fairly consistently... digging.

What doesn't make sense to me is this:  I have a good support system here... and yet I'm digging.

And deleting.

Smiles

Mornings.. are my favorite. While I sometimes get a "housebound" feeling some of the time... I would not trade these gorgeous 'me mornings' for anything.  For the last few days, I have sent the girls off to work, the Boy has been at a friends house, or like today, still sleeping...and I have been able to wander out to my weak little garden next to our wooded area. I watch as the sun continues to rise, the chickens scramble around for the scratch just thrown, the cats stretch their legs and find their various perches for a morning bath, the dogs ramble about the yard, spurts of rough and tumble play, a fence run here and there to chase the random passing car... I can hear the goat robbing the hay bin, when he should be grazing about the recently cut lawn...