I sit on the couch, poised over the laptop, hoping something resembling words will come, but they lurk elsewhere today; outside, across the street, through the woods, too far away to grab. Other writing work I should be doing niggles at me, but I wait instead, knowing that in an hour there’s an appointment and then it’s off to the food shop for the day. Not enough time to get entrenched, right? I pick up The Faith of a Writer, by Joyce Carol Oats from the table in front of me, unbend the page where I left off, thinking perhaps inspiration is to be found in the next paragraphs. Inspiration? Maybe. A blog post topic, not.
So, I click over to FaceBook, comment, and head to Blogger dashboard where I read a few blogs. Comment. Toy with including a picture on today’s post at the direction of a photo blog I just found. It said to publish the (unedited) fifth picture in the first folder of photos I ever saved. Pause. I only started saving pictures to the laptop within the last year. Fifth picture? Fat kitty, making herself comfortable on the bed. Now the desktop, that’s another story. Move to the desk, fire up the antique computer sitting there and the fifth photo in the first folder there contains a photo of my then 11-year-old burying herself in the drifts left by the blower during a storm that still pelted full force.
I remember that day. Snow slanted sideways and stuck to the windows. My husband muscled waist-high drifts with the blower, our daughter and her cousin built a fort at the corner of the driveway where the piles were deepest. Although I can’t remember this for sure, afterward I’ll bet you there was hot cocoa, a fire in the fireplace, and puddles on the floor, where for the millionth time, we learned the lesson we seem forget from year to year about what a bad idea it is to walk around on stormy days in socks.
So, I click over to FaceBook, comment, and head to Blogger dashboard where I read a few blogs. Comment. Toy with including a picture on today’s post at the direction of a photo blog I just found. It said to publish the (unedited) fifth picture in the first folder of photos I ever saved. Pause. I only started saving pictures to the laptop within the last year. Fifth picture? Fat kitty, making herself comfortable on the bed. Now the desktop, that’s another story. Move to the desk, fire up the antique computer sitting there and the fifth photo in the first folder there contains a photo of my then 11-year-old burying herself in the drifts left by the blower during a storm that still pelted full force.
I remember that day. Snow slanted sideways and stuck to the windows. My husband muscled waist-high drifts with the blower, our daughter and her cousin built a fort at the corner of the driveway where the piles were deepest. Although I can’t remember this for sure, afterward I’ll bet you there was hot cocoa, a fire in the fireplace, and puddles on the floor, where for the millionth time, we learned the lesson we seem forget from year to year about what a bad idea it is to walk around on stormy days in socks. 
8 comments:
euuwwwwww,, I felt the cold damp, when I stepped on one of those puddles, although in Texas, it is most likely rain drippins',, see you made a good post..
You're in the same writing distraction mode that a lot of others seem to be posting about. I find myself looking for distractions as well but I keep pushing myself back to the writing keyboard.
This reminds me when I go to the store today I need to pick up some hot chocolate. It's nice to have around this time of year.
Lee
Tossing It Out
Awwwwwww what a cute kitty. And wow, I shivered just looking at that snow picture. But I'm from SoCal. We're wimps here. :)
Oh, the stepping in puddles in socks is so true! I hate doing that! Great picture--and great post.
It's amazing where you can find inspiration. That's a sweet picture of your baby! What fond memories it inspires. And as always, your writing is lovely.
LOVE Joyce Carol Oates. Is this a writing book of hers? I haven't heard of it.
the brain goes and so does the post. we all may find it under a book or even in a book. my mind skips but stops attimes to post. cute cat. love the snow photo. rose
Man, that looks cold. Writing about the snow scene is definitely better than being in it. Although...probably not for an 11-year-old.
Beautiful post, Liza. I've been there, waiting but uninspired, other responsibility knocking at the door.
And once it a while I like to look through our digital photos, remembering. I wonder what your daughter would recall about that day?
Thanks for coming to my blog tonight. :)
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