The blogging bug has bitten me. I feel like slapping down some words down in this space only I don’t have any wisdom to impart or grand things to share. However, in the spirit of a new Testosterhome tradition, I’m going to set a timer for 10 minutes and just write. Verbal diarrhea doesn’t sound so nice, but that’s what will probably spew out.
Ten minutes. Go!
I’m somewhere beautiful. (Actually, I was somewhere beautiful. I wrote this almost a week ago but am just now getting around to publishing it. I’ve enjoyed writing without feeling that everything has to be timely.)
Hint: There’s a lot of sand and blue sky and water, and my kids smell like the Gulf.
I’ve been reading a lot as well as mentally coming up with the characters and general plot of the chick lit book I’m finally going to sit down and write. I used to want to write a great literary novel – something similar to what Anne Tyler, one of my favorite authors, writes. But lately I’ve been drawn to writing something fun, breezy, romantic, and easy-to-read. (And something that’s probably more marketable and easier to get published, but I’m way ahead of myself there). What I’ve come up with so far is a book that will fall more in to the mom lit genre – a spin off of the popular chick lit books. I’m only mentioning it here to have some accountability. Sit. Down. And. Write. Stay away from Twitter and Facebook updates, all those time suckers that are atrophying the craft of writing.
Aside from diving back into fiction, I’m running again. And feeling how old I have become. I have a leg length difference. I’ve lived with this physical and fairly significant discrepancy for a long time, but I have never felt it so acutely. I once could run for miles and miles and experience only an occasional ache or twinge if I, say, landed in an unexpected dip in the road. Now nearly every stride taunts me (feel that shockaroo, oldie!), but I keep going. I’ve met a lovely mom-friend who is my running buddy. We meet early. We run. I yammer on. Then I usually apologize for yammering on. She keeps inviting me to run and to yammer. I push myself but not too much. And despite the achy (old) hip, I feel good. I am one of those weird people who actually enjoys running.
I have several speaking engagements coming up. Most of them are geared for mothers, but I have one that will address an audience of parents of tweens and teens. I have lots to say on the dignity of the body and helping to raise children with a healthy body image. I’m thrilled about these opportunities, but this one in particular is going to require some supernatural help. First off, because as much as I’m an expert in hazardous waste removal raising all of these stinky and prolifically pooping littles, I’m well aware that the challenges I face are mostly of the physically-exhausted variety and that the emotional fatigue will come later when my children are older and still may throw tantrums but possibly won’t want to hug and makeup once the fussing and shouting has abated.
Second, I admit my own body image has been a little shaky for myriad reasons lately despite the empowering feeling running again has given me. I can’t seem to lose the last 5 to 7 pounds from my pregnancy with Thomas. I don’t want to live in that awful limbo where I’m bound by the belief that when I lose those last few pounds, life will be perfect and I will love the way I look every day partly because I know it’s not true. But mainly because I’m at a perfectly healthy weight carrying around these extra few pounds and don’t want to get stuck on an arbitrary number. Been there. Done that. The allure of being 5, 10, 20, 30-plus pounds thinners is far more appealing than the reality of it.
And that’s a wrap. Ten minute’s is up. Random but fun.
A side note: I’ll be a guest on Relevant Radio’s Morning Air show tomorrow 8 a.m. EST. Tune in if you can!