Well. I was going to go to my spinning group today. The illustrious weather guessers were yodelling about a winter wind storm. So due to circumstances that were somewhat out of my control, I didn't go.
So, I made a loaf of bread. (I was informed by an older friend of mine that making bread is an art form, not just 'throwing stuff into a machine.' And so, my I introduce myself, the Bread Machinist...)
And continued reading a book I'd started. I knit on a Christmas project, (pictures and mentioning of item not here, as I don't know if said recipient might actually read my blog...)
I made lunch for us, Husband and I. Or is it me? Anyway, we had lunch. And then we worked for a mite getting the 'travel gate' open from the back field to the front. I hope to start feeding my llamas down front again... If they will cooperate. I think a rattling feed bucket might convince them, however. It seems to most of the time.
I read other blogs to see if I could steal anything for blog fodder. Let's see, Relationship troubles, no, thank goodness. Canadian Animal fair, nope. Getting home from a book tour. I wish... Talking Sheep and yarn balls... Plagiarism is frowned on. It is funny, however.
Last chance, the last blog I check...
"My Inner Lesbian High Priestess"
Whoooookaaaaaaay, never mind. OK, so much for hijacking someone else's blog. (Especially since the last one was written by a guy...)
Sometimes I guess that the Muse that I have heard inspires one to write, sits down, crosses its arms like a two year old, and gives me a humongous raspberry. Sometimes it's like that.
I was in a writing group for a while, and I loved writing fiction. According to the group, it wasn't good fiction, as I would make really bad mistakes that were usually, most of the time, oh, the MAIN PLOT POINT. But they liked the humor of the stories, even if I had married priests, or Stud horses that didn't want to have sex because they couldn't afford child support, (excuse me, people, it's FICTION, how many ding dong talking horses, besides Mr. Ed, have you SEEN???), or slaves, that were slaves after the emancipation proclamation. Well, fine. So, I wrote little ditties about my personal life, and people think they are just lovely.
That's great. Except, I don't really think the group would have wanted a 500 word article on cleaning out a chicken house, or the shed, or helping Husband rebuild an engine, every time. I suppose if I did what my one high school English teacher said, is just write. Give yourself x amount of words and just force yourself to write that much each day, then you will learn to be a writer.
Uh huh. I note said teacher never said I would be a GOOD writer.
I do know, like exercising, the more you make an effort, the easier it gets. With the exception of the dial up crashing, but at least I do make an effort to save my work regularly...
Ya know, I think, if I were a bear, this is the part where I would have my nice cave, curled up on a rock, and snoring while dreaming of trash cans and honey bee hives. So, I guess, I will call this a blog, and see if I can come out of literary hibernation tomorrow...