It seems like forever since I have sat down and taken the time to post to this blog. However, I have written several posts that have only bounced around the recesses of my mind. Too bad I never made time to capture these thoughts before they dissipated into to do or shopping lists.
Along that vein I have recently been coming to terms with my paper problem. I currently have five started journals, one quote book, this under-posted blog, a half used planner, and one notebook for writing ideas. This does not count the myriad of individual papers tucked here and there, inside books, my planner, and stacked to look at later. I am not satisfied with a technology based communication model. I love the feel of paper, the smell of opening a book, and the soothing glide of a pencil across the page (the spelling challenged like myself always use pencils).
So what have I done to get control of this madness? Why, I have bought a new journal--it will really work this time, or so I have been chanting to myself over and over to will it to be true.
These are the moments when I envy the self discipline of my husband and battle the inner dialogue of failure that comes so naturally to me.
Since my mom passed away I have come to realize there was so much about her I didn't know. One day, I want Cavender to have both the memories of our own life conversations, and the scraps of my own mental ramblings for her to process as she will.
Besides the way my memory is declining, probably due to the number of Diet Cokes I drink, I better collect what few creative moments I have left.
