Choosing Life - Mundane As It Is
I’ve been feeling kind of guilty lately. I haven’t posted much of anything profound. (Not that I ever do.) I haven’t mused about the presidential race - even though my state is currently the hot news topic. I have been quietly scratching my inner demons behind the ear; tossing them a juicy titbit and then lopping off their heads. I’ve been doing this by tuning back into my world and spending less time online. (As if I ever spend very much time on-line.)
I have to admit - folks like Deesha over at Mamalicious, Raving Black Lunatic, Tami at What Tami Said and Inkognegro to mention a few - inspire me. I was downright proud to be part of the 32 Days Of Black History. The pressure to continuously dig for and communicate small insights that month was exhilarating. The discipline of topical, timely blogging eviscerated my rather lame writing advice of making one’s bed every morning. Blogging - genuine, original content - takes more discipline than that. Its equivalent is cleaning one house from top to bottom daily and holding a garage sale of the rubbish at 3:00 pm each day. That’s a lot of work.
My job does not allow me be in front of a computer all day. My job involves: keeping a tidy house; cooking meals; graciously supporting my ever patient, loving husband; wiping asses and noses; traipsing around to classes, museums, play parks; friend’s houses and negotiating a four year old into a chair to do or review lessons.
A few months ago, after I dropped off my husband’s dry cleaning, I stood back in abject horror
and realised I am a housewife! (Gasp, eeek, whatever happened?) Tonight, I breath a sigh of relief and say, “Well, it’s hard work, but, it won’t give me a heart attack.” So, I have to admit that the guilt and self-smacking I’ve been experiencing about my return to observances of puddles, birds, crocuses, children and puppy dogs has been alleviated.
Thank you, New York Times, for re-affirming to me that slow, observant, aware and easy.
I have to admit - folks like Deesha over at Mamalicious, Raving Black Lunatic, Tami at What Tami Said and Inkognegro to mention a few - inspire me. I was downright proud to be part of the 32 Days Of Black History. The pressure to continuously dig for and communicate small insights that month was exhilarating. The discipline of topical, timely blogging eviscerated my rather lame writing advice of making one’s bed every morning. Blogging - genuine, original content - takes more discipline than that. Its equivalent is cleaning one house from top to bottom daily and holding a garage sale of the rubbish at 3:00 pm each day. That’s a lot of work.
My job does not allow me be in front of a computer all day. My job involves: keeping a tidy house; cooking meals; graciously supporting my ever patient, loving husband; wiping asses and noses; traipsing around to classes, museums, play parks; friend’s houses and negotiating a four year old into a chair to do or review lessons.
A few months ago, after I dropped off my husband’s dry cleaning, I stood back in abject horror
and realised I am a housewife! (Gasp, eeek, whatever happened?) Tonight, I breath a sigh of relief and say, “Well, it’s hard work, but, it won’t give me a heart attack.” So, I have to admit that the guilt and self-smacking I’ve been experiencing about my return to observances of puddles, birds, crocuses, children and puppy dogs has been alleviated.Thank you, New York Times, for re-affirming to me that slow, observant, aware and easy.
Comments
If I had known what I was getting myself into when I started this blog I don't know if I would have done it.