Hello, dear reader.
The inspiration to begin this blog came from the plethora of amazingly creative women out there who write about their amazingly creative lives. And in an ideal world, that is the focus this blog would take. But I already know, despite my best intentions, this will not always be the case. To illustrate my point, please allow me to explain something about my limited ability to maintain focus.
For example, this is how I make a bed:
I walk past my bedroom door and the .2 % of my brain that occupies itself with housework registers the fact that bedding is strewn everywhere. I go into the room and pick up a pillow. While so doing, I notice a thin layer of dust covering my bookshelf and my intense desire to escape one task thrusts me into the embrace of another that is just as odious.
I go downstairs to get the vacuum cleaner and as I pass the telephone, a pang of conscience reminds me that for weeks now I’ve been promising our piano teacher to make an appointment with the piano tuner. While the thought of making a phone call tends to cause temporary paralysis to the right side of my face, in light of my present line of duty, it only tweaks the nerves behind my eyeballs.
So I jump on THAT opportunity and make the appointment.
While I’m on the phone, I notice my perpetually dying plant beckoning feebly from the living room. I grab a glass of water someone left on the counter and wander over to give that ficus one last drink and at the same time confirm a date with the piano tuner which I fail to write down, meaning the odds of my remembering the appointment are even less than the odds I will like the way my hair looks that day.
When I hang up, my next thought is that the house feels stuffy, so I walk across the room to open a window and trip over the vacuum cleaner sitting in the middle of the floor. The pain searing through my foot reminds me forty minutes ago I started making the bed and now, forty minutes later, what I learned in Physics 101 does not appear to be bearing itself out—energy has been burned and yet matter? Is in a greater state of chaos than ever.
Let us now have a moment of silence for the man I married. His lot in life is not to be envied.
Anyway, so that's how I make the bed, and that's why, though I would dearly love to pull it off like Elsita or Soulemama, or Hillary or Claire …my style will almost certainly be a little harder to pin down.
But just to let you know, my intention is to stay on topic about how beautiful life is when you are part of the creative process.