Hum … well, actually, you see … I um …
Okay, so yeah, I don’t quite recall what I was saying. It’s been a long, long while since I last dropped in on my lovely little piece of internet real estate here, and that makes me sad. And a little bit ashamed.
WE RUDELY INTERRUPT THIS BROADCAST
I’m generally tougher than that. Am in fact a disciplined, regimented, list-making, task oriented being, and falling off the map is not my standard response when one of those *straight-to-the-gut* sucker punches catches me unawares. Yet this time around the blow was enough of a wallop to send me reeling through the Christmas holiday and straight into the New Year.
REGROUP, REKINDLE, REFRESH
The thing is, getting one’s groove back is no easy task. Whether just returned from a three month trek through the Italian countryside gorging on cheese and salami and copious samplings of Vino (admittedly something I haven’t experienced outside of my head), awaking after months in a coma, or shaking off the dazed confusion of a hit-and-run assault by Life. Make no mistake, it can be tricky.
A MIND RUNNING ON RANDOM FUEL
It takes a fair amount of random fuel to rekindle the engine, narrow the focus, reset the brain’s GPS. A matter of unleashing our brain doodles to roll out across an endless pasture where they can wrestle around while we’re trying to remember how to re-saddle the horse that’s dumped us on our bum. Unchecked scribbles that keep our brains from knocking around in an empty room…
BRAIN OFF THE LEASH (AKA, MINDLESS SCRIBBLES)
… is there any relevance in the fact that all of my favorite numbers are Odd?
*
Can I maybe actually really accept that invitation to jump on a plane to New Orleans for Mardi Gras? Dump the guilt of home-bound responsibility–claim it’s necessary research for the WIP though the setting of said novel is rural Maine … unless, right, a flashback. The original designer of flashbacks must have come up with this writers tactic after running away to New Orleans for Mardi Gras.
*
Breakfast for Dinner tonight. Kiddies favorite meal when hubby is away on business and this is the last chance before the bird lands back in the nest tomorrow.
*
Politics suck.
*
Spanx: sausage casings for humans. The concept works, but the name makes me giggle. Great title: Spanx. If you loved Fifty Shades of Grey, you’ll adore Spanx.
*
Today is the day! I’m gonna reclaim my Mojo and jump back into the sadly neglected wholly abandoned WIP. Not this instant, but soon. Once I’m done thinking …
*
Wowsa, there’s a lot of ellipses in here … I must really like them … see how nicely they fill the spaces in my head …
*
Just how long is a Cotton pickin’ minute? Is it longer or shorter than an ordinary minute?
*
Done with checking my RANKINGS, LIKES, REVIEWS on Amazon. No really. Done. Finished. What’s more idiotic than angsting over stuff I have little no control over
… wonder if it’s been three minutes yet?
*
Oh yeah, but there is that other book I read about on someone’s blog and wanted to check out. Can’t recall the title just now … but I’ll remember if I just poke around a little on Amazon. No, really, I’m only looking up that ONE book. Not going near my page. Just having a quick look at that other book that ISN’T mine.
Oh, wait! Hold on. Before I take off, how about you take a moment to drop a mindless scribble of your own right here. The floor is yours. What cha thinkin?
Barbara Forte Abate 
