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.
*Hiked mountains.
*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.
Uh, huh.
*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.
Also:
*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?
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.
*Hiked mountains.
*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.
Uh, huh.
*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.
Also:
*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?
I feel like I lost a year of my life. =$
ReplyDeleteI love this post. You sound so happy. So content.
Wishing you good things and abounding love.
The art of losing isn't hard to master;
ReplyDeleteso many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.
-Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.
(Elizabeth Bishop, One Art.)
Losing July is lamentable, but every woe would follow if October strayed too far from me. I love your blog. I snuck through the back door after discovering it on Adri's site.
I haven't had time to write, either, with moving across the country and all...But I also wanted you to know that I passed on the Liebster award to you. I don't know if you're into blogger awards (I'm not sure that I am, either), but I had to share the love :)
ReplyDelete