While He Was Sleeping

Well, that New Year's resolution is shot to hell. No, not the one I made about regular exercise (although that one is teetering precariously). The one that has really been blown out of the water is the one I make every year - writing more often. Thanks to Christmas, my son's visit, an illness that will not die that has sapped every bit of energy I possess, and a trip to Mexico I have not written anything (including Christmas cards; sorry to all who enjoyed my pithy year end wrap-ups) in more than a month.

Pathetic.

It's not that I haven't had a wealth of material over the last thirty-three days. I could have waxed rhapsodically about the joys of spending two days a week with my beyond precious grandson, with a special chapter on the creative ways I manage to extricate myself off the floor (currently limited to variations of maneuvering myself to the nearest piece of furniture but soon to involve a small crane of some kind). I could also have detailed the joys of having my son back under our roof for the first time in four months with an entire paragraph dedicated to my shock and delight at his volunteering to join me for our church's Christmas Eve service. And then there was Mexico. What can I say about a seven day trip to paradise with six of the greatest friends on the planet taken during the coldest week of the year? Nothing. You don't won't to hear about it, do you? (But if you stop buy I'll be happy to show you a couple of the 1,147 pictures I took).

I could pull out the sympathy card. I am on my fifth box of Puffs. But who cares? Danielle Steel probably wrote an entire book every time she went into labor. And so what if I've been coughing loud enough to wake the neighbors (a couple of streets over). Who cares? Nora Roberts probably churned out her biggest bestseller when she had double pneumonia. No more excuses. I can do this. I can write this stupid blog once a week and I can finish editing that novel before I file for Social Security benefits. If nothing else, I can at least write something every time that sweet, adorable munchkin takes his naps every Tuesday and Thursday.

How much trouble can one little baby be?