I really miss writing.
I haven’t resumed writing the book much because I’m totally intimidated by it.
I haven’t been blogging because I feel like if I dedicate myself to writing anything it should be writing and finishing the book.
It’s been tough lately. K'zilla is growing and developing (no, i'm not talking about her boobies.) faster than the ivy outside, that’s once again threatening to engulf the house. which is another reminder (not that i needed one) that the house is in need of attention. It’s true what they say about repairing one thing and something else of equal or more priority simultaneously breaking and needing repair.
Everytime I think I’m able to sit down and write either K'zilla or Popzilla or the house remind me that I have other responsibilities. For example, K'zilla was making the “Psst. Psst.” noise and knocking on the back of my laptop earlier.
We’re inside the house and not outside at the park because the cable has been on the fritz and the cable guy is expected to show up between 8 am and 12 noon. Hopefully, we’ll be able to stroll on over to the local Panera and use their WiFi so I can actually upload this to blogger.
I need WiFi. I keep hearing that in the back of my head. That and Jessica saying, “I love WiFi because I can write anywhere.” freakin know it alls...
Tuesday night, Popzilla sprained his ankle – badly. He went to the emergency room yesterday morning. Fortunately, it wasn’t a fracture but it’s pretty swollen and he’s wearing a splint. He skipped work yesterday to the delight of K'zilla. She was also happy to find that BILzilla (brother in law) was also off of work. To top it all off a plumber was here to (expensively) fix a leak and leave an expansive water trail. So, K'zilla didn’t nap until she was vibrating from excitement and exhaustion. Popzilla’s foot was elevated most of the day and night which prevented him from doing much of anything. He hates that.
I need to write more because I think it might be related to losing my sense of humor. I don’t think it’s totally gone because I actually considered writing and posting a craigslist ad in the lost and found section. I know people do it all the time, but I just figured it was (celestially) my turn. Last night, I didn’t find much of anything was very funny. I’ve been having a REALLY hard time finding “The Daily Show” funny.
Have I mentioned that I’m not sleeping as well at night? I’m supposed to be sleeping on my side but I prefer to sleep on my back. It’s better and healthier for the baby, but it’s really annoying and uncomfortable to me. (as a side note, the baby is going absolutely bonkers. I mean, right now, while I type away. So, it’s true. I am a walking, talking human habitrail.)
I think I must be internalizing any stress that I’m feeling because my eczema is growing worse and worse. I really have to call my dermatologist… I am constantly waking up for no reason at night and having trouble getting back to sleep.
I refuse to believe I’m the wreck that looks back at me in the mirror. I think things (like me) will look much better after this weekend after a visit to my chiropractor and the salon (and maybe even the drugstore after I talk to my dermatologist).
Now, K'zilla is requesting (demanding) a bowl of cherries. Hmmm, aren’t we all requesting (demanding) a bowl of cherries from someone or something? The cherries are the new novelty thing for K'zilla and she’s got a one track snack mind.
It’s all my fault. I saw my first cherries of this summer in New Smyrna Beach and they were so shiny, taut and bloody red that I had to have some. I was on vacation, so I wasn’t as concerned about witnesses and me spitting pits or looking remotely vampiric.
So, of course when I got home I had to have more. I swear this baby is going to come out with a little birthmark shaped like two cherries connected by a wishbone vine.
It’s been fun teaching K'zilla how to eat cherries. It’s also tedious and messy. We both come out of a cherry eating seminar with cherry juice all over us and staining our fingers. I had to buy a new bottle of spray & wash for the occasion. She still hasn’t quite mastered the whole spitting thing. I’m just glad we’re finally beyond the “violently tear the pit out of the juicy tender meat of the cherry with your stained gawky hands” part.
It reminds me of going cherry picking with my mom. I think we may have gone about it slightly too “urban”. I vaguely remember my mom driving the car between the wide lanes of the cherry trees but close enough to the branches that they brushed up roughly against the car. I was picking cherries with difficulty, while standing on the passenger side seat and leaning out and against the passenger side window which was rolled partly up so that I wouldn’t fall out completely. We didn’t cherry pick for very long.
Off to sacrifice one bowl of cherries to appease the cranky non napping beast…
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