How to choose between things we love?

Linking up with Jana and her Stream of Consciousness Sunday gang for a free write.

Five minutes. Unedited. Uncensored by the moralist living in my head.


Okay. I’ve done it. I’ve gone and turned a half century.

What do I want from these next 50 years?

Well, lots of things. But what selfishly leaps to mind is writing a novel.

Notice I didn’t say having a novel published. No. First I just want to get the darned thing out on paper.

Time is fleeting.

And I have so many other commits like we all do. Family and laundry and training for a triathlon. Oy vey.

So I’ve got to make this writing time count.

How to fit blogging and freelance assignments and writing a 330 page book? That makes sense and is good and is worth an agent giving a second look.

I need to get focus and brutally honest how to spend that writing time.

I love blogging but that hour of the day could be spent finishing that first draft. Uncovering those wonderful twists of plot left for me to discover.


That’s just it. Only so much time.

What do you think? How do you make time and choose between those things you love?



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Being decisive. I meant it. This time. For reals.

I missed the official start of summer by a day or so, but just read a post my the wonderful Lisa at Sweet InLow’s  where she blogs about The Summer of . . .

Got me to thinking.

What would my word of summer be?

Linking up with Jana for a little stream of consciousness writing.

Five minutes, unedited. A prompt-free week.


The Summer of . . .


Went to Sunday School today and was talking with the women gathered there.

We are going through the book Having a Mary Heart in a Martha World.

Forgive me but not taking my 5 minutes to explain the premise — but the gist is — don’t spend your life worrying and making everything perfect. Sit and reflect on the truth of the gospel.

I talked in circles today about how I think in circles. How I always have. How in grade school I wrote the one thing I would change about myself is   . . .

that I think too much.

Well, here I sit decades later and I still think too much.

I’m going to be decisive starting — well, I started a few hours ago after I left church. I’m going to make decisions and not stew for hours on if they were the right ones or not.

Whatever comes from them, I’ll work with.

I’m done worrying.



We’ll see how I feel this time next week.

What about you? Are you decisive or not really? Not ever?

Or maybe sort of?

Come join us.

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Tell me something good about raisins.

It’s a beautiful Sunday and the iPod is charging.

Feeling like some stream of consciousness writing before I head out for run.

Jana’s prompt this week: Tell me something good.


Maybe it’s been the stress of the week.

Maybe it’s just been too long.

But I’ve been craving chocolate. Dreaming about chocolate.

Because chocolate is good.

And right now chocolate sounds gooder that anything else on the planet.

I gave up sweets for Lent. I had such success I thought Jamie, you’d had such success why not keep this up for an entire year?

So I did. I pledged Easter to keep right on going and not eat sweets till February 13, 2014.

And lately I have wanted something good. Like chocolate. I just ate a wheel-barrow full of raisins.

I still want chocolate.

Raisins are good for you. Probably not a wheel-barrow full of raisins. But normal raisin consumption is good.

I am running out of good things to tell you.

Because I now feel sicky with too many raisins in my belly and I still can’t have chocolate.


And now I have to add this to my iPod.

If this lame post didn’t make you smile. Watch this video and look at the clothes. (The drummer’s my favorite. But the drummer always is.)

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Me and what it means to feel free.

Operating without instructions.

Jumping without a net.

Moving freely without a bookbag crammed with rocks of every shape and size slung around my shoulders.

Road trips on warm days. The sunroof open with heat beating into my drying skin.

A big clump of work attached to an email and pressing send.

Out on the water.

Staring out at a large undulating moving body of water.

Stepping into the water.

Diving in.

Only is it is above 85 degrees.

A new pair of running shoes.

A ten, five and five ones in my wallet.

Riding on my bike (in no wind, no hills and temperature above 85 degrees.)


Linked up with Jana’s Thinking Place today.

Stream of Consciousness Sunday. Our prompt: FREE. Whatever we please.

I chose to spew forth thoughts and images of what freedom is to me.

What about you?

What gives you a momentary thrill of freedom?

* * *

This was my 5 minute Stream of Consciousness Sunday post. It’s five minutes of your time and a brain dump. Want to try it? Here are the rules…

  • Set a timer and write for 5 minutes.
  • Write an intro to the post if you want but don’t edit the post. No proofreading or spellchecking. This is writing in the raw.
  • Publish it somewhere. Anywhere. The back door to your blog if you want. But make it accessible.
  • Add the Stream of Consciousness Sunday badge to your post (in the sidebar).
  • Go to Jana’s and link up.


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No comprendo.

It’s after nine on a school night.

What the heck am I doing vertical?  Actually more at a 90 degree angle.

Just checking in with Jana for a little Stream of Consciousness writing, that’s what.

Our prompt this week should we choose to except it:

I don’t understand…


I don’t understand the ways of the weather. The wind, the rain and the fog that rises some mornings.

I don’t understand the ways of the moon.  How and when it changes shape. How is can light up the darkness causing shadows that look as noonday — or completely disappear.

I don’t understand why one person is cured of cancer and another’s body is consumed within months.

I don’t understand why the Gulf beaches have awesome white sand and blue water while the Atlantic is granular and packed. Okay. Maybe I do understand this a little.

I don’t understand the ways of the hawk I saw fly to the tippy top of a tree in our yard today. So thrilled was I to see him because all the leaves are still off the trees.

I don’t understand how our cats could slay a cardinal. My favorite bird. And I feel a stab of pain for the bird’s lifeless body and still look at my cat and think he was just obeying the way he was created.


I guess there’s lots I don’t understand. But thankfully, I am surrounded by beauty and wonder every minute of every day.

Even if I don’t understand it.

What about you? What makes you wonder why?



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I’m going to my happy place.

It’s like going to the beach.

That’s my answer to Jana’s prompt for Stream of Consciousness Sunday.

It’s like going to . . .

Five minutes of unedited writing.


Find a happy place.

That’s one of my favorite sayings. And if I had to describe my happy place it would involve white, warm sand. Crystal blue, warm water.

Bright, cloudless, warm sunshine.

Hey. That reminds me of some place.


This time of year, I find myself lost in fancy dreaming about swimming in warm water, rolling over to float on the heavy salt water as I gaze onto the cerulean heavens.

I go there in my mind when finances, commitments and time of year just won’t seem to cooperate with my fantasy life.

I feel my breaths deepening. My shoulders dropping.

Maybe even my blood pressure going down a notch or two.

The sound of the water.

It is my happy place.


Where is a place that makes you giddy?

Click on the link and come over and join us.



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Blessed be . . . me.

Where do the Sundays go? So much on my to-do list and I was running around all day.

One of these years, I’m going to take that day of rest Commandment literally.

Until then I’ll keep checking in with jana@jana’sthinkingplace for Stream of Consciousness Sunday.

Five minutes, uncensored – unedited.

Our optional prompt this week:  Blessed. 


Honestly, I looked this up online.

Does it mean something worthy of worship or something I’m thankful for?

Obviously, we can hold something in reverence and also be grateful for it, but it really the same thing.

These are the things that pop into my mind.

This time of year, every cold morning that the heater groans to life — I’m blessed.

Every day I can pull on my running shoes and go for a run — I’m blessed.

Every day we all have good health — I’m triply blessed. (if that is a word. I’m that)

Every day I can see the sun and see the green, basically every day my eyes do what eyes are created to do — I’m blessed.

But what do I hold in reverence?


What do you hold in reverence?

Since the timer went off, I’ll have to get back to you on that one.


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Desperately Seeking My LP Groove.

It’s Super Bowl Sunday once again and I’m linking up with Jana @jana’sthinkingplace for some stream of consciousness writing.

Five minutes, unedited on the prompt: Groove.


For the last few weeks, I’ve made no secret of the fact that I’m feeling out of my groove.



So far out in fact, I’m wondering if I ever had one.

But I see pictures, remember moments when I felt focused, directed and not unraveling as a roll of dental floss that my cat is batting around.

Maybe it’s the winter? I don’t do the colder months so well.

Maybe it’s getting older? Hormones and body changes that I can’t deny.

Maybe it’s the death of my dad?

Maybe it’s my children getting older? Sending one off to college this year made me realize how quickly my identity as mother will end.

I am a positive person. Or I so want to be.

I will adjust to all this change.

Reinvent myself one more time.

Find the groove in the LP and travel around the turntable, till the next thing bumps me out.


So what say you?

Feeling groovy these days or no?


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A little forced family run.

Linking up with Jana and Stream of Consciousness Sunday.

She encouraged our minds to run free this week. Blogging uncensored for five minutes on the subject of our choice.


More specifically running with my 9 year old. We’ve signed up for a family 5K end of next month. Part of all the enjoyment of this family fun is getting out and training with my son.


Five minutes starts now . . .


Are we having fun yet?

I feel like the line from Vacation when Clark Griswold says he’s on a quest for fun.

I’m on a quest for bonding, togetherness and good health with my 9 year old.

Good luck.

“Joe, let’s go out and run this afternoon.”

Wailing, sighing and gnashing of 9-year-old teeth.


Let me say that our running exists of running and walking (mostly walking) whenever he feels like it.

“Leash up the dog, Joe.”

Insert pleas of “I’ll clean up my room every day till I’m 35, if you don’t make me run.”

But I will not be deterred in this quest. Why you might ask?

Because when I drag his complaining 9-year-old booty out there — after the first painful 30 seconds — he ends up having fun. Or at least doing it and carrying on a nice conversation.



Okay. I played by the rules and stopped at five minutes. What I really wanted to say is that like most things involving children, it is never a Hallmark card moment like you imagined.

It is work and not much fun to get him out there most days. But when I do, it’s almost (yes, almost) always worth it.

I love him and he can be my little couch/computer potato child.

I love him too much to not force him outside for fresh air and body movement.

That goes for myself as well I guess. So signing off now to leash up the dog, drag my child away from Minecraft and go for a little run.

What about you? What do you drag yourself or your children out to do?


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Any way you want it, that’s the way to write it. #SOCSunday

Five minutes, free association on Sunday.

Linking up with Jana @jana’sthinkingplace. Her prompt this Sunday: Journey.


Don’t Stop Believin’

Lovin’, Touchin’ Squeezin’ each other  . . . or another?

It’s funny. So much of today’s music (popular music) sounds the same to me.

Music executives know what is hot. What look, what sound and they find acts that fit the mold.

Back when I was younger groups had their own sound.

You could tell an Aerosmith song, from a REO song, from a Journey song.



Why do we as writers or as bloggers try to sound like The Bloggess or Scary Mommy or Sue Monk Kidd or Joshilyn Jackson?

All are wonderful. All have they own unique voice.

We need to search for ours and be true to the music we hear inside our heads.



Do you think yourself true to your voice?


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