So here’s the deal:
My garden is more weeds than anything, which is inducing a lot of guilt-ridden hand wringing. One of my adjunct classes–the one that I spent a month and a half prepping–is cancelled. We just got back from our week at the lake with the Carricos. All the baby food is gone so I’ve spent the morning turning produce into paste.
I have all of these great blog posts that I keep drafting in my head while I’m driving or shelling peas or peeling vegetables. They are philosophical and witty. They are longer than 150 words. They are in pretty prose that makes sense. Then the baby wakes up or the pot boils over and the eloquent thought is erased by tiredness by the time I sit down to type.
I’m not sure what the point of this post is except to say that I have so many ideas that I want to get down.