The state of things

I’m eating bunny crackers for breakfast. Yes, some might question that choice, but today they are the breakfast of champions.

This getting back into ordinary life after a few weeks off is kind of for the birds. Which is an odd expression. For the birds implies something like tasty seeds, or trees that cats and snakes can’t get up, and that doesn’t really seem to fit, does it?

So, let’s try again. It’s tough to jump back into the daily grind. Grind is at least suggestive of the overall sense of settling back in among gears and cogs and insistent forces. But really, that’s not fair either. Life is so much more than a grind.

Over the weekend I saw two bluebirds in the snow. There may be more cheerful sights in the world, but I’m not sure what they are. The Eastern Bluebird is blue and rust and white, and in the winter they look like little balls of joy in the snow.

I’ve been wishing I had two lives lately. One to spend with my children, who are in periods of exponential growth, and one to spend in a lonely writer’s garret somewhere. Preferably not a cold one, though I suppose I would survive. Wool hats and wool socks go a long way in the winter.

Oh, a third life too, please. One for reading all the books I haven’t had time to, the ones I’ve fallen asleep in bed with, and stolen five minutes with every other day, and still can’t make the time to finish. It really doesn’t seem fair to have writing and reading have to battle it out for my time. Either way I end up with a head full of unanswered questions, and an itch to do something more.


  1. Oh to be able to clone oneself! … and have all the sensory imput filtered through the main operating system!

    • That is the disappointment in cloning, isn’t it? That those clones will insist on their own lives? I’ve been trying to remember the name of a book I read a few years back in which it was possible to make clay duplicates at home. They would last for 24 hours, and, provided you got them back before they were destroyed, you could download their memories.

      Alas, no such thing here.

      • Oh, I remember that book! ‘Kiln People,’ by David Brin. And even in that book, some of the clay clones ‘went rogue’ and refused to return.

        Funny that you’re ‘living two lives;’ I just finished a story about someone who is doing exactly that! I hope I’ll be able to tell you soon that it’s been sold…

        As for the writer’s garret, (since we’re dreaming here) I’d like one in Key West, with a second-floor balcony overlooking a garden and with a portal that would take me to Paris or Nuernberg, Germany with only a step.

        • Yes!!! You win! Thank you for coming up with the name; the brain itch was going to kill me if I didn’t figure it out. 🙂

          Fingers crossed for a speedy, good sale for your dual life story. I look forward to reading it!

          You know, if your garret must have a portal, than I suppose mine must have a tower guarded by a dragon. I actually started a MG novel about such a tower once, but I was put on hold. The tower went on forever, with hundreds of world contained in it, but the top was exceptionally quiet.

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