I haven't been blogging lately because I just couldn't muster the passion. The weather sucked until last Friday, and I'll be damned if I will waste a Friday afternoon at the computer, blogging away. No, it was a day to head out into the much too elusive Spring sunshine. I swear that I smiled all the way home. Just seeing that bright ball of light in the sky, and seeing blue, instead of gray, was enough to bring thoughts of hope, flowers, vacations, bar-b-cue, and other cheery subject matter to mind.
Saturday was okay, and I got some things planted. I love to garden. It's where I can completely shed the worries of life and just be happy in the moment. Unfortunately, after the past three surgeries for an incisional hernia, I'm not supposed to garden like I used to. Marty has acually seen me go after a tree stump with a shovel and by the end of the day have that sucker in pieces in the compost recycling bin. The dirtier and sweatier the better. However, this is not good in my current condition, awaiting another surgery, so I stuck to doing little things with putting colorful flowers in small pots to either hang or adorn the deck in the back yard. It was still theraputic.
Then Sunday rolled in with it's cold and wind. I still defied this trend of nature and went to Home Depot in search of more flowers. I got a few plants, and then when the wind blew over the larger plants, I figured it was time to go before the rain started again.
I know I'm stating the obvious, but this has been one tough winter and spring in terms of just being blah, miserable, and gray. This is when I need a vacation, but I'm saving days for that much needed impending surgery. I swear I did call the Mayo Clinic in Arizona to see if I could at least spend the time recovering in hot weather. They sort of laughed at me. I sort of laughed back. I'm thinking now that I could have qualified it with saying that my mental state needed that sun, told them I was from the Great Pacific Northwest where it rains all the time, and gotten some sympathy. Oh well. By the time the surgery is scheduled it will probably be beautiful anyway, and I'll spend the time languishing around looking at the flowers I planted on the gray day.
I think I'll write daily as well. The wonderful and lovely Pamela Des Barres, author of "I'm With The Band" and other wonderful memoirs of her adventures with rock and roll holds writing workshops which I've attended. One of the most helpful things I've learned from her is that if you take just 15 minutes a day to write, after a few months, you have quite a lot of pages written. Plus, it sort of gets it off your mind and on the page. Therapy. Cheap!
Oh, and Pamela is coming to do another writing workshop at the end of this month. I thought she'd come back to Portland while Robert Plant was in town for the concert on April 19th and take her writing "dolls" with her backstage to see the Golden God, but alas, she has other plans and will see him at several other shows anyway. Oh, I've met Mr. Plant before, a couple of times. But going backstage with Pamela would have been fun to observe. Ah well.
So, here's my 15 minutes of writing for today. Not profound, but more of a complete thought than my Facebook posts, which seems to rob more and more of my time, and I like it less and less.
Speaking of which....how long do you think it will be before Facebook goes the way of My Space? Or will it?