Year of writing 309. I can do this.

11/12/12

I don't have any excuses for not updating for the last six days.  Nothing has happened that should have precluded me writing, in fact, nothing of note happened at all.  That shouldn't have stopped me from writing, actually, that's usually when the best writing happens.  I just had writers block and couldn't get out of my own head enough to power through it. 

Looking at a blank screen sometimes is the scariest thing I do.  Even knowing that I am doing this ultimately for myself, (and my children, if I ever dare show them) I sometimes can't bring myself to commit to the words I write down.  I hit the backspace button after every word, second guessing each sentence.  In fact, it's happening now as I'm writing these words down - but I'm going to finish this entry this time.

So catching up to today - I had a horrendous DJ experience turn decent after epic malfunctions, I watched guys cut down our dead tree, helped a friend find a poem to read at a funeral, and found out that my house is hella cold in the winter time.  There's no gas to our house, which means no heat.  Which leads to today.

Today I dug a ditch.  Seriously.  Again.  I was trying to find a gas line that we cut off when we were doing all the work on the house in the beginning.  I found it, it took a couple hours of digging while Isla played in the sawdust left over from the tree being cut down and Miles tried to eat cat poop.  When I got it all dug out, my dad came out and told me to fill it in again.  This is my life now.

At least I got to tear a wall down in the garage. I'll comment more if it works out.

Also, since Isla got a day off preschool for Veterans Day, my sister offered to take her to Wreck it Ralph with the cousins - any smidgeon of time occupied for a four year old will be cherished by me, so of course I said yes. 

I took the kids to Ventura and dropped Isla off at the movies with her Auntie.  Then I realized I had two hours to kill with a 14 month old who was already pissed off because he couldn't pull the steering wheel off his little stroller car thing.  I mean, I supposed it could have been residual cat poop ingestion, but that's a cop out in my opinion.  We tried going into a couple thrift stores, but I think his ego couldn't take it and he began wailing as soon as the grandpa smell hit him.  So, I instead went to this consignment mall store that sells collectibles and knick knacks.  I was looking for a She-Ra doll for Isla, who is now obsessed with that show, but no luck.  As I was leaving the store, Miles reached out and grabbed the lid of a Marilyn Monroe cookie jar on the end of a glass counter and launched it.  It slid the length of the counter and teetered on the other side, way too far for me to save.  Luckily, right then, a nimble good Samaritan happened to be walking by and saved the jar from falling.  As I thanked him, I noticed the price tag.  $549.00.  For a cookie jar.  Either Miles or I shit our pants immediately, I'm not telling who.