I don’t even know what to say about my bloggy absence the last few weeks. Oh, I’ve shown up a handful of times, but I will be the first to confess that I’m way off my bloggy game. And I could rattle off all the reasons – which pretty much look like everybody else’s reasons why they are struggling with such-and-such during the so-and-so – but the two biggest factors are that work has been all manner of lively and, um, I have never known the very particular brand of stress that comes from trying to write a book during the holiday season.
Y’all. The new book is the most fun when I really get to sit down and concentrate and talk to the words and let the words talk back to me (I know that sounds crazy, but if the shoe fits, etc.). The problem right now is time. Because yes, there’s work. And there’s also the errands and the cooking and the whathaveyou. And there’s also a ten year-old in this house who has decided that nothing is more fun than throwing the football over and over again in the afternoons, and if you think I’m passing up that opportunity then you’re probably relatively new to these parts so I should just say, Hi. Welcome to my blog. I am just a little bit crazy about college football – to the point that you might feel concerned for me at times. A few days ago, in fact, I told Melanie that I was completely unprepared for the ways that A.’s interest in football would delight me, not to mention that I have apparently stored up a significant (and perhaps disturbing) amount of knowledge about the technical side of football over the last 20 years of watching Game Day, most SEC games, and SportsCenter.
No kidding. Yesterday afternoon these words came out of my mouth: “Listen. I can’t stress this enough. If you have your arm up that high when you’re throwing the ball, a defender will knock it straight to the ground.”
When I told Melanie about it, she laughed and then said, “Well, that’s true. And be sure to remind him that nobody has ever figured out how to defend a wheel route.”
See? We really are two peas in a pod.
Anyway, the football has been a bright spot (except when A. tackled our neighbor, B.) (B.’s a girl) (she got him back later by grabbing his leg when he was trying to score and forcing him into a near split), but the writing time has been slim, and I’m starting to feel the strain of that a little bit. Plus, until today the weather here has been damp and gray and drizzle-y, and for me that’s pretty much a recipe for wearing nothing but yoga pants and over-analyzing everything and embracing the melancholy, so to speak. It’s all fun and games for a couple of days, but by day three I’m not much fun to be around and also there may be some crying because I HAVE ALL THE FEELINGS.
But today the sun came out, so this afternoon I found a place where it hit the pavement and I just stood there and squinted my eyes and begged it to stick around for a few days. We will see, I reckon. And I’m going to try my best to get some writing done over the next four or five days because I think some forward progress will do my heart some good.
So. That’s what’s going on here. I hope y’all are having a great week. And I hope you know that I am mighty grateful for your patience with the reliably unreliable content right now. It’ll get better soon, I think. Or at least I hope.
Y’all be sweet.
(Really, I still just want to be Tami Taylor.)
(But I may have to get myself a shirt that says “Coach” for when we’re playing outside in the afternoons.)
(MAYBE EVEN A WHISTLE.)
(I will be sure to keep you posted.)