The weekend. I convinced myself, when I woke up this morning, I would refrain from writing. After all, it's Sunday, and there is church and family and friends. My feet hit the floor and the first thing I grabbed was my favorite soft yellow hoodie. I cleansed my mind ready to tackle a fun-filled non-writing day. My eyes wandered down to the wording on my sweatshirt. The date 1885 in bold letters jumped out at me. I wonder what happened in that year?
Seeing old dates are like getting clues to a pirate's chest full of hidden gold. No, I won't research today, I tell myself. Although I have a new picture book idea simmering in mind of a long ago inventor slash spy slash millionaire who met one very famous president....NOPE, I'm not writing today.
Nothing gets done before I put my contacts in in the morning. I'm as blind as a bat. Bats aren't really blind. When I taught fifth grade several years ago, my class went batty for a unit on bats. Wisconsin is full of fuzzy brown bats. We even took an evening trip to the Watertown Library for a close up look at those amazing creatures and learned all about echolocation. What a fantastic idea to incorporate bats into a novel. NOPE, Let it go, I say to myself.
I head for the kitchen (newly remodeled thanks to my awesome hubby!) and step over a purple macaroni yarn necklace and a dart board. I scoot past an old red tricycle--the same one I had as a child--and the memories wash over me. NOPE, I'm not going to write today.
Bags scattered around my living room, remind me I'm a busy person. First, the diaper bag hangs nearby, which only contains snacks and toys now that my daughter is three. Then the writing bag comes next, propped against the couch, becasue I do so much writing in my living room. Lastly, the art bag reminds me I've been teaching art for the past eight years. This year I have a wonderful group of 3rd-6th graders. My daughter hands me a book to read--George Rodrigue's Are You Blue Dog's Friend? Maybe, I will write today.