Still writing…

Still writing.

Life distracts with a silly thing called “reality” that keeps getting in my way. Visiting my relatives, spending beloved time with my baby niece, three small children (not mine, my roommates’, but beloved just the same) who are a force of nature that could bring down an empire (and possibly win a land war in Asia in a year or two), enough Dora the Explorer episodes as the constant soundtrack of life in this house to make me fairly certain that the solution to all my problems is probably hiding at the bottom of a talking purple backpack, and the very STRONG suspicion that Swiper has swiped my sanity, plus the crazy measures needed to attain both use of my laptop and use of WiFi concurrently mean that everything I’m writing is being written long-hand first? Well, it just makes the writing process more of a challenge (but I’m probably a better writer for it). – VKS

If you’re also subjected to too much of a certain small, enthusiastic Latina and her purple monkey friend, this will make total sense to you:

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3 thoughts on “Still writing…

    • As long as it isn’t covered in nondescript-child-stickiness, isn’t prone to unrolling all the toilet paper at 5:00 AM, and doesn’t need to be put in time-out more than once a day. If it knows where both its shoes are, more’s the better.

      I’ve been working with the 0-5 set for many years. Currently I live with a family in a way too small apartment with a family of five (kids are 2, 3.5, and 5), plus a dog, a cat, a rogue carnival goldfish (I think he’s a pirate secret agent, he killed all the other fish who were threatening to compromise his mission), two fire-belly frogs or toads or whatever they are (“Limey” is mental enough that he or she deserves a backstory), plus a leopard gecko, plus my two guinea pigs. Six people, one bathroom, life is an adventure (and John Ratzenberger seems to always be in it somewhere).

    • (And small children make you humble…or crazy…or both)

      Introspective contemplative theology is all well and good until a two year-old dumps milk on your shoes. I am a real person, and I do have a sense if humor. Since the standard for being “a pwincess” in this household begins and ends with wearing a skirt that “can ‘pin”? On SOME days??? I’m even — apparently — royalty.

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