Every time I think I have the time to set aside for blogging and general writing, life gets in the way.  The truth is, I have done virtually nothing for the past 6 months–no writing during this time, no art for half of the time, no partying, no beach bathing, no exercise to speak of, especially no continuation of the Blogging 101 workshop…

Oh, yeah. I did help out with some aggression replacement training for a bunch of Little League players, and I read tons of books–well, they would have been tons if I didn’t have them on my Kindle. But the kids were fun to work with, and so were the adults that were part of the team–Coach Tom and his wife, Lisa, are so generous with their time and talents.  So wish I could get my body to a point where I can be more physically active and less into more passive activities.

But my physical therapist is pushing me, and keeps reminding me that I bought his-and-hers Fitbits for myself and my husband for Christmas for a really good reason.  And I do try to at least get in 5000 steps a day as I work towards 10,000–even if I seem to be stuck at an average of 4000 because I forget to put it on after my shower…

So here I am on the absolute lowest day of my entire life planning out the next few days on a blog site.  Time to get back to my art classes–will take care of that over the weekend; time to look through the aggression manual to come up with some age-appropriate and hopefully interesting scenarios to use with the Little League team to practice social skills and anger management; time to look through all my art and craft books on my Kindle to figure out what to sketch/paint/create after a long period of arts neglect; time to figure that, financially, my life needs to be retrieved from the dungeons; time to reassess what I want to do with the rest of my life.

Bottom line: writing about things–even if it’s a line or two, or a phrase–gets me going again.  Maybe for me, writing is a type of therapy to help me look at life a little differently again.  With writing, as with art or crafts, something is created before one leaves the page. During the past two weeks, I actually finished 4 crocheted handbags, 4 lacy doilies (something I’ve never done before), picked up my sketch book and frowned at my inability to see things as they are (to me, my drawings look like the subject–until I walk away from them and see how skewed my visual perception seems to be), opened and closed my paint boxes, opened and closed my oil painting books and DVDs…  OK. So not everything ended in a creation.  Some things ended only in ideas…

And now I am wondering about the advisability of basically depleting our retirement funds to invest in an island condo.  But if our calculations are right, and if we are careful with the contract to purchase over the course of 3 years or so, then we just might come out ahead of the game in 5 years or so.  We will see how that works out for us.  I’m so not a gambler, and yet I’m taking a huge chance that our future will actually work out alright.  Uncle Sam will collect his absurd taxes from median-income folks (not middle-income, as that can be misinterpreted as average, and all those 1 percenters have really screwed up “average” as it relates to income; median is the actual middle of the scale that’s not skewed because of the excessive wealth of the few), and everyone will continue as though Americans are still sitting on the top of the financial world…

Oooh.  Too much disgruntlement getting in here.  Too many disjointed thoughts in a stream-of-consciousness sort of way…

Hopefully a more coherent post tomorrow–or the next day, or…

#educ_dr