Blogs are an interesting concept, don't you think? Endless words that can go on and on and paint pictures of all kinds of moods swaying like the long---strands of wheat bent with a brush of a cosmic wind.
I've been blogging a long time. A really long time, actually. And in some ways one can grow weary of all the time spent inside the head, contemplating, (gosh....) contemplating what will be said next. Or even, whether anything will be said at all.
Is it not a boiling pot of robust flavors stewing over a high heat which that unleashes the aroma of only two specific ingredients that makes you think of all the others? Then of course, one would expect only a prelude to what would come, wouldn't you think? Hark! Not, but, for what beholds of two ingredients, could very well then mask the true identity of all the rest.
What the hell am I talking about........
About the way we write, sometimes in riddles so as we avoid the truth, or to avoid the great-long-life-version.
I simply want to write,is all, though, find no avenue or simmering pot of inspiration to do so, outside of a few sampled tea spoons of flavor to my lips, which I'm not content with.
Oh, I have much to write of, indeed. Like the recent news of my husband's decline of a job offer and drastic move from our home, and, the long road of emotion through our family in the lengthy wait of decision where, I'm now spent and weary and lethargic of words, wondering if at all! saying anything really matters.
Because everyone's got a story.
Of the virtual wave of a hand I cast this unbecoming conversation aside. Moments have us in states of mind that thankfully fleet with a cosmic wind.
And I shall be like my parent's who late in the evening indulge in a slice of toast with a thick layer of homemade jam,strawberry,and nestle in to watch the TV show, Who's Line Is It.