All Is Grace

i am trying to write a book. which is humorous, really, even to say. because, frankly…

…not much writing is occurring recently.

i was so good at it last week. super involved. i wrote and wrote and brainstormed and outlined. i have a character with some depth, a setting i like, and a plot that has promise. i have ten pages that i’m pretty proud of. which is all well and good. except the part where life keeps happening. you know, the life that catches really horrible colds from really adorable babies and jobs blow up and kids need help and cakes get pushed up instead of pushed back and babies get born and things get scheduled over which you have absolutely no control.

life happens.

i’m sitting here with facebook open (stupid move #1) listening to every comment popping up in response to my most recently posted status update (stupid move #2) which i posted as a result of the current crisis occurring in my life…to the tune of…well, a heck of a lot more money than i said i would ever spend to fix up a dog. because said dog decided to jump through the window of our front room to bark at some random stranger probably walking past our house. maybe with a dog. or maybe it was a squirrel. or an orange-striped neighborhood cat. whatever it was, it caused him to bark his fool head off and smash through the window Joey replaced on Saturday and slice the CRAP out of his paw. because the dog is not an established patient at any local veterinary clinic, they will not see him in emergency care…hence, he was driven an hour and a half drive away…and after sedation, sterilization and suturing…sigh.

folks. Christmas is next month.

but beautiful Charli is a police-trained German Shepherd. who cost a heck of a lot more to purchase and train than either of my sweet doggies. he is worth the price. indeed. it’s just…a lot to swallow tonight.

all of this happened while i was at a soccer banquet for Reasa and Laine…after a day of school, babysitting, house-taking-care-of, 5 loads of laundry, running-to-the-store-to-get-supplies-to-make-lasagna-for-friends-who-had-a-baby-and-rigatoni-for-tonight’s-banquet-after-dropping-the-girls-off-at-church-to-hang-out-with-their-best-friend-who-was-making-Christmas-come-alive-at-Victory, making said lasagna, rigatoni, salad, cake, and cupcakes, and driving all over God’s green earth to make all of this come together. when i got home, chaos awaited in the form of a kitchen i left scattered with a mess of dishes and splatters, and blood staining the carpet, couch and floor. oh, and broken glass.  and an LED light in the greenhouse in the basement that is on an off-level track and keeps bang-bang-banging against the end, alerting me to the fact that it’s off-level. (thank you.) and a fish tank that’s still lit because the fish haven’t been fed. and i don’t know if the dogs were fed before Joey ran to the emergency vet. and i brilliantly decided to change my sheets this morning…which means the clean sheets are sitting right next to me on the table and are not on the bed where they belong.

did i mention that Joey won’t be leaving Cornell for another hour and a half or so? it’s 11:15 pm at this very moment.

it’s going to be a very long night.

and the thing is…i could write. i really could. i have ideas and everything.

but i can’t bring myself to open the page. because i’m afraid that if i open the page, all blank and inviting, i will find that the sound of the light on the track in the basement will come back. and a kid will come downstairs to tell me that her ear hurts so much, she just has to go to the doctor tomorrow. or i might have to listen to that stupid voicemail on my phone that i know is there and i’m *completely* avoiding (i promise, it’s not from any of you.)(no, really. i’m serious.).

my eyes are heavy. my carpet is stained.

and i can’t write.

there goes the light on the track again.

i think i’ll go make my bed.