I’m a home body. Given the choice of going out or staying in I’d almost always opt for staying in. Even if staying in means sitting on the couch to watch a movie. While we are watching Bob will periodically ask me if I am still awake and most times I am coherent enough that I can mumble yes without him knowing that prior to his asking I was hovering on the brink of sleep. I enjoy that delicious space of not-quite-asleep-but-know-I’m-going-to-be-soon. That druggy feeling of not being able to fully function. That moment when you didn’t realize you were aware of what was going on around you until someone asked. When you are dreaming, and the movie dialogue is playing in your dream but you didn’t realize it was the movie until someone says, “Honey, are you watching this, or are you sleeping.”
I once had narcotics while I was in labor and in between the pain I was in lala land with the seven dwarves. They were coaching me. Seriously. Then the pain would hit me and I’d wake up and it would just be my husband. I’d get through the pain and go back to the dwarves. I remember actually being a bit miffed when I’d have to leave them to deal with the business of pushing a baby out. My preference would have been to stay with the dwarves and their calm ways, their sing song humming voices, their ability to let me teeter on the edge of joy and reality. They are taller than I imagined. I do love a good visit to lala land.
But I have hopped down the wrong bunny trail here…what was I talking about?
I’d often rather stay home and putz on the computer than go out. Especially in the winter. I mean, I’m in my house, I’m warm, I have my computer, the TV, craft supplies and kittens, why would I go out?
You know, while I worked at the assisted living center I got an appreciation for the future. So many of my friends there couldn’t go out. Stuck in a wheel chair that is too cumbersome to move in a regular car. The inability of the body to do what the brain is willing it to do. Fearful of eyesight that won’t work well enough to warn them of a change in the landscape. Reflexes that aren’t what they used to be. They stay home. They stay home and remember the times they did go out. They relive the fun they experienced when all their parts worked together. That thought often prompts me to get my rump off the couch and go out.
I spend a lot of time on the internet. I am an information whore. I think it is totally amazing that I can find information about absolutely everything while sipping coffee in my kitchen. I take up a new craft…like crochet (blog to follow!) and I scour websites that contain the word crochet. I have an awesome working knowledge of my new interest before I even hold a crochet hook in my hand. If I desired, I could learn to crochet without ever having to leave my kitchen chair. That is a glorious thing. I can order yarn from Amazon, watch you tube videos on any stitch and find picture after picture of designs and patterns and instructions on Pinterest.
A consistent intrigue for me as I galavant through the web is writing. Blogging is tossed into that category as well. I research how to write, why people write, who writes, writing prompts. I read many, many blogs. Food blogs, crochet blogs, card making blogs, human interest blogs, tech blogs, friends blogs and blogs on how to blog. What I have learned first and foremost about writing, the advice that most successful writers give to aspiring writers is (you are not going to believe this) just write.
They say not to worry about content, just sit down and write, write, write. Flush the words out of your brain and onto the page. Dont’ edit, dont worry about spelling or grammer or pucntuation. Just write. Everyday. Even when your mind feels like it is completely empty of topics sit down and start typing and something will come. James Michener said “I’m not a good writer but I am a very good re-writer.” Put pen to paper, fingers to keyboard aaaannnnnd go!
And so today I did just that. I thought I was going to write about farting in front of your friends and when that becomes socially acceptable (on the golf course with guys is different than sitting with another couple playing Mexican train and letting it rip.) But I ended up traipsing across my homebody preference, talked about my only legal moment of drug use, sprinkled it with a little bit of writing frustration and now I’m calling it a blog post.
(I am certain Bob is going to tell me this little jaunt through my brain thinking pattern is no better than a throwback Thursday and does nothing to increase our readership…sorry honey, tomorrow I will definitely write about the farting.)