Ten years ago I was writing several blogs on various subjects - F1 motor racing, Music, Classic Cars, Great Romances and, most crushingly, a personal journal that included my thoughts on America, memories of England and Africa, opinion, humour, writing and anything else that occurred. It all became too much (I was attempting to update the journal every day) and I collapsed, exhausted and thoroughly disillusioned in the end.
So this blog is indeed a Toe in the Water, a place to document my thoughts in and on WdC but with a determination not to get sucked into the blog whirlpool ever again. Here's hoping.
Ooh, Kåre เลียม Enga Pugs are my favorite! Beholden, I have that tendency as well with cats; I've always been an expert on dogs and a little blurry on cats. I had stuffed The Dogs and The Cats (Artlist International) as a kid in the early aughts; the cats were: a Maine Coon, a Russian Blue, an American Shorthair, a Scottish Fold, and a Somali.
I like cats and have had quite a few up until I became allergic to them, breaking out in hives and shortness of breath. Thankfully, I can still read about them without any reaction.
I did glaze over but that's because I have a migraine. I read it again ha ha ha. Gosh I often find myself thinking OMG I'm just like Mum or Dad and not all are the best versions of them either ha ha ha.
I loved my parents dearly and miss them every day. At 55 though I am realising more and more, I am my parents child, but mostly their good bits.
I can tell when my oldest daughter from Colorado visits with her hubby, who is a talker, lol. She acknowledges him with an "uh-hu" once in a while, but I can tell her mind is somewhere else.
I actually caught up to the Promptly Poetry Challenge today. A poem intended to be read as a chant, meter all-important, meaning merely incidental and vague. I write more chants as time goes on.
Anyway, when I’d finished, I read through the new poem and several of the ones I’d written to catch up. And realised that they were all about the same thing, in spite of the different prompts. I was reminded of Claude Monet, who spent his last few years painting endless pictures of the waterlilies on his pond.
I’ve never understood how people can get stuck on one subject (or job) like that but I think I get it now. Old age has a lot to do with it.
In the end, we write or paint what we’re thinking about.
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