There is hardly an hour, let alone eight, that go by that I am not jotting something down somewhere.   This afternoon I was rummaging through my desk looking for a cough drop when I found two pieces of notebook paper.  Both are filled with poems, half poems, single words and verbs. Even in the margins. Even along the half moon where I ripped out a piece. There are several sentences that I cannot even read- and this is when I know that the words were coming in so fast, that my hand couldn’t keep up.

Also, I left my sketchbook upstairs in the spare bedroom.  I’ve been working on a fairly large sketch/doodle (for me anyway) and I was itching to sit at the park on lunch to add to it.  You can imagine my disappointment when I opened my bag and didn’t see my markers and paper.  GAH.  I had my knitting, but right now, my muse isn’t yarn.  It’s circles and lines, swirls. Paints and markers.  Soon enough it’ll switch spots.  I’ll go back to knitting. Back to sewing. Back to writing on scraps of paper.

Middle of October is next week:

Dad’s birthday is coming up.  Camping.  Travels. Family feasts. Report cards.

Speaking of-

MD has been quite the student as of late.  Poor kid was up till ten last night studying before I sent him off to bed.  He was up and downstairs by 6 am- eating Cinnamon Toast Crunch and finishing up some history notes.  On one hand, I am proud of his dedication to his studies.  On the other, I don’t think he should be studying that much (or that late) in jr. high.  Of course, I can recall doing the same at his age.  He works hard, every day. I know it’ll pay off in the end.  And today, I think I’ll send him outside to play. To ride bikes. Skateboard. Hang out with the kids down the street.  Let off some steam.

It’s fall and the leaves and words are frighteningly bright.

No one should miss that.


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