Time has a way of evaporating sometimes. It has nothing to do with fun. It just disappears, like steam. I guess that's what happened to July, because somehow today is the second Tuesday in August, and a whole month is gone, and I don't know how it happened. The sun came out and, poof!
I wasn't writing. Riding, yes. Finally fixed my bike. But writing? Not on the new novel. Obviously not blog posts. Letters either. Both my sisters are probably mad at me.
Here's what I remember:
*We lost the dog and chased him down.
*Worked hours in garden, which is growing like green demons.
*It poured rain every afternoon. In Utah. Where the total rainfall is 15 inches a year.
*I injured my Achilles and rehabilitated it. Didn't see doctor.
*Read book on barefoot running.
*Read book on plot because I was mired in mine. Think I found my way out.
*Ran barefoot with dog and kids in squishy park grass.
*Experiment A: drank one quart green smoothie/day.
*Quit experiment after one nasty green smoothie consisting almost entirely of collard greens, and another of watercress. Have you ever drunk watercress? Think of raw frog juice.
*Made yummy (as opposed to froggy) green smoothies for the girls' cross-country team.
*Experiment B: did all gardening barefoot. Awesome.
*Bought running shoes. Why? A mystery. Barefoot, hooray! Except on Utah rocks. Ok, which one marathon, do you think, inspired Barefoot Ken Bob's barefoot friend to scrounge up shoes made from a trail-marker, and even Ken Bob to admit it totally sucked? Park City, Utah. Yup. Utah rocks. The rocks I get to run on. Not so good for bare feet. I like my New Balance Minimus shoes for trails. Feel the rocks, but don't feel them.
*Read lots of fiction.
*Hung my wash outside on line. Had to rescue it often from rain.
*Watched Harry Potter.
Funny, though. Except for Harry Potter, most of those things happened in the first eight days of August. Huh. I don't know where July is. Floating around the Universe somewhere. Lost on vacation. Transfigured into a barefoot, bearded, green-smoothie-drinking rain-cloud.
What about you? Do you ever lose a whole month of your life?
Imagination doesn't just mean making things up. It means thinking things through, solving [problems] or hoping to do so, and being just distant enough to be able to laugh at things that are normally painful. [Some people] would call this escapism, but they would be be entirely wrong. I would call fantasy the most serious, and the most useful branch of writing there is.
--Diana Wynne Jones
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
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