Are you a writer?  If so, I have a new and tremendous respect for you, because this  year I have been trying to write a book and it... is... killing....me!   I am primarily a speaker, and I have been told that I write very much like I speak.  This would be fantastic if I spoke like a normal,  understandable sane person, with linear thought processes and comprehensive sentence structure.  Unfortunately, (and you can easily verify this with my longsuffering husband) I speak in circles.  Not  just circles, but verbal trapezoids, nonsensalellagrams and my all time favorite, rabbit trailellipticals. 
     Naturally, all these linguistic gymnastics make perfect sense to me as I jump from one idea to the other in my head  the way a female gymnast jumps from one uneven bar to another and back again.  My poor readers (and husband...) on the other hand, require at the very least, a few courtesy clues as to where my mental journey is taking them, assuming they even want to go in the first place!
     Putting life events, personal thoughts, and ultimately, an inspiring message into the written word has been a real challenge for me, but I am hammering away at it,( and the keyboard) on a daily basis.  My thanks to those of you who read this, and to those who have helped me along the way with both encouragement and critique. 
I do know where I would be without you.... on a very long rabbit trailellipticalallelagramazoid!

Packed with LOVE

     I don't know about you all, but I am getting ready to send a child off to school tomorrow morning.  My third and final son Camden is heading off to begin his high school career whether I like it or not.  Why wouldn't I like it?  If t.v. ads were reality shows, I would no doubt be ready to jump up and down with glee as my backpack laiden student climbs the stairs on the bright yellow school bus.  (If the past is any indicator I should be frightened more than anything, since my husband spiraled into an intense 9 month Country music jag when my eldest entered high school.)
    The truth is, I will miss my boy, just like I miss his brothers who are already gone.  Call me weird, but I will. 
    Yes, the dishwasher fills up twice as fast during the summer and yes, I visit the grocery store so often it might as well be a revolving door.  Summertime laundry mean my washer and dryer resent me, requiring regular pep talks and offers of sympathy before adding yet another load of perspiration soaked sportswear in my oversized capacity bins.  When school is in session I have the house to myself and only the dog's opinions to distract me from my thoughts.  So why the trepidation?
     The seasoning of life has taught me that time passes quickly, and the commencement of one phase of life is a dim echo of the end which will undoubtedly arrive sooner rather than later.  The sentimenet "Two boys gone, one boy left will soon become " three boys gone, no boys left."  I know there are four long years to wade through before that happens, but I hear the music in the distance (and I hope to God it's not Country.)
     So if you are packing a lunch box this week, or maybe next, cherish every painstaking second of it.   Load it with love, and remember how blessed  we are to do it.