I have been trying to write all week and nothing is working. Something is telling me the words aren’t jelling, my spelling is… hell-ing. I’m resorting to making up words just so I can rhyme, and my punctuation is, (just); not: “making, sense”. I want to use only smiley faces and explanation points to communicate. Gah! Did I just say, gah? Yikes, I’m getting all curmudgeonly in this post. Blogging is all too much thinking. I give up. I can’t write. I want to, I need to, but it’s not happening. I can barely form a complete sentence and
Normally, when I write, I love to visit dictionary.com because it helps to expand my limited…uh…what’s the word I’m thinking of…oh yeah, vocabulary (and it reminds me that my brain is so pliable, it’s practically silly putty). But lately, my mind is so zapped, I found myself staring at a common word and questioning if it was really spelled that way. The word was awkward. It just didn’t look right to me. Nope, still doesn’t, no matter how much I stare at it. Too many Ws or something. Maybe it’s time to pack it in and give this writing thing a rest.
With my mind being in a semi-permanent (I can only hope) state of “stand by” mode, I’ve decided to give you a filler post. Fluff. A post about nothing. I was making my son his lunch this morning when I realized I had about three seconds to slap something together before the bus pulled up. I reached for a jar of strawberry Fluff, added a little PB and voila! a delectable sugar-bomb of a lunch the teacher will be sure to write me an angry note about later. So what. It’s not like he eats it every single day. What’s the harm? I love fluffy stuff. Comfort food. I’m all for soft and cozy things. Enjoy life a little! Don’t worry! It’s fine. Let it all go. Indulge yourself for once. No thinking or guilt required. Go ahead and wrap yourself up in a warm quilt, sip some tea and enjoy the guilty pleasure of watching Survivor while munching on a fluffernutter sandwich. C’mon, try it. Feels good, doesn’t it? Ahhh! I really should write more posts like this one.
Also, I have to tell you all about a dream I had early this morning. It was so vivid. I was logging onto WordPress and blinked in surprise to see a post of mine all Freshly Pressed. My mouth dropped open and I frantically clicked on it and a video clip popped up on my screen. To my horror, there I was: hair all matted, a long indentation of my pillow case running down my cheek, more bags under my eyes than at JFK airport, shuffling into my kitchen wearing a baggy Nirvana t-shirt and Homer Simpson slippers yelling, “COFFEE! NOW! OR! I! KILL! YOU!” Then I burped so loud the windows rattled. Below the post the current hits were at 1,000,000 and climbing. My husband appeared and said, “See, I told you blogging is evil.” Then his voice morphed into the devil shouting “Blogging’s evil! EVIL EVIL EVIL!” over and over and I woke up in a panic, drenched in sweat. I think this is a sign I need to: a) take a blogging break (again) or b) get a life or c) do away with the vlog thing.
Before I sign off, I have a quick new video for you. Don’t worry, I won’t make this a weekly thing. Y’know that old wives’ tale, if you see cows laying down, rain is on the way? What is on the way if you see an entire herd of cows running full tilt across a field? Have you ever seen a cow run? Well, you are in luck today. Keep your eyes on the left top of the house.
I apologize for the poor video quality. You might need your glasses or just squint a lot like I do. The window screen was in the way, but trust me, those black dots you saw running are of the bovine persuasion (damn you, dictionary.com!) The pungent aroma of cow that fills my nostrils every morning can attest to that fact.
So this was the scene from my bedroom window off and on for most of the day. They’d run like crazy to one end of the field, then clump together, maybe to discuss politics, until one of the cows said something offensive and they all started angrily chasing each other. Maybe the cows were playing a raucous game of Freeze Tag or incredibly bored. It may also be a warning. We usually can tell what season it is by the location of where the cows have their little pow-wow. When they are grazing at the top of the hill to the left, it’s spring. The middle means it’s summer. When they are clumped over to the right of the pasture, fall is in the air. When they suddenly and inexplicably start galloping across the field? Armageddon. Or maybe just a cold harsh winter.