Boy, oh boy, have I been uninspired lately. Oddly, I blame it on the past week or so of beautiful weather. Looking back at my posts, it’s fairly clear that an alternative title to this blog could have been “Making Lemons from Lemonade” or some other such nonsense. I like writing funny little essays about triumphing over life’s daily challenges…which only works when I’m being, well, challenged.

When life is freaking glorious, when the zinneas and the sunflowers are both ablaze, when the air is warmish without a hint of humidity and even carries the whispered promise of maybe (be still my heart) needing a sweater in the evening, well, I just can’t think of much to say. (sample blog post; “Everything is lovely. That is all.”) I just meander around, sinking into the ease of it.

Besides which, I had a most glorious weekend. The kidlets were all happily engaged with various activities, leaving me free to ignore housework and lie on the couch and read. And read and read and read. As blissfully enjoyable as it was, I ask you, where is the artistic inspiration in that?

360 days out of the year, Hubby tries to get me to RELAX. I have long maintained that his is a naive position, because I am built like a mechanical toy; if I manage to achieve anything, it’s because I run on the tightly coiled springs of stress, anxiety and looming, potential failure. Relax and I might just slip to the floor, inert.

Apparently, that isn’t far from the truth.

No, I’m not opposed to being relaxed and happy. It’s more that I’m…hmmm…unaccustomed? Unskilled? You can ask around. People will use various adjectives to describe me, but I’m willing to bet the phrase, “quietly contented” will not come up. Oddly, that’s exactly how I feel today. I’m sitting on the couch, watching the birds in our garden and giving off a gentle, optimistic vibe. Even Speckles, our notoriously skittish and people-phobic cat has come to sit in my lap.

I’m like freakin’ Snow White this morning.

Yes. Exactly like this.

No worries. The day is young; humidity is on the rise, we’ve still got more children than money, the marathon is only seven weeks away so, of course, my knee has taken to swelling up like a cantaloupe, and Eldest Son isn’t speaking to me, because I refused to buy him a new video game. Yup. Things are looking up.

The Rise & Fall of a Momocracy

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