So it's Saturday, and I realize just how long it's been since I sat in front of this screen and tried to write something that's not about education or technology. But that's really okay. As for jobs, I have one of the good ones.
But Steve is working and Scout is sleeping and my Christmas tree is still up - though a bit droopy - and I'm trying to make myself be motivated to take it down. Probably not going to happen.
The sun is shining here in South Dakota, but the snow still reaches the for the top of the windows and cold is the word of the day, and the day before, and the day before that. It reaffirms the extent to which one will go for love. Before meeting Steve, I would never have considered hanging my hat in this state of extremes. But perhaps it is a reflection of me in some ways. I've never been one to take the middle ground, but have always set up shop on one end of an issue or the other, so it is somehow fitting that I now live in a place where temperatures, landscapes, even cornfields are extreme - stretching for miles under the summer sun, or looking like tundra when the snow blankets them.
My mind longs to find time to work on "my stuff" - an unfinished book, a poem or two, and this space where I can write just about anything I want. Now that I've found a few moments, I feel as if there is nothing in me to write.
I could write about the way the snow sparkles in the sun, or the way the drifts rise and fall. I could write about temperatures that are below zero, that make it virtually unihabitable in this place. I could write about missing my people in Ohio and in Texas. Maybe when it's been so long there are too many topics.
Right now the keyboard feels good under my fingertips, but I am being poked to action by unfinished laundry and cats to feed. There is no peace - and that's where the not-writing begins.
Maybe next week, when Steve is fishing on the ice in Minnesota, I will find the peace to write.