In other news...

I am really working on my children's book.  Presently, and for as long as I could form words with a pencil, have such a hard time with plot. Actually, it was going on long before then when my best friend always wanted me to have a clear story and reason to our games and I was just blowing about, going with whatever fancied me in the moment. How anyone knows what they are going to do or say beyond a paragraph is difficult for me to fathom.  When I hear that someone is writing a novel, with twists and turns, and an ending where everything is accounted for, I nearly shiver and I hope I am never called upon to do the same.  

Despite my inability to give these characters a perfect story, things are coming along.  So far, a buffalo, a fox and some other secret animals are nuzzling their way into my heart, and I have a very good feeling in my gut.  I was totally the kid all growing up who covered her paper during art and writing time because I was too embarrassed to let my neighbor see, most likely because the most inevitable response would be, "What?!" "Ha ha, what were you thinking?!" and then attention I very much did not want would be rocketed to me and I would have to explain myself, as I realized that I was doing something in fact, a little bit strange.  That is why I must keep things mostly a secret about this book, lest I get too embarrassed and shove all my papers under my closet door.  

However, if you want to give me any words of encouragement, I have no shame.  I could use them.  Turns out, doing the things you most want to do is a little bit terrifying, and also terribly exciting.  Sort of like getting seat belted into the seat of a roller coaster. (which I actually did recently, and unbeknownst to me, until I got off at the end, I apparently screamed 'Nooooooo!!!!' the entire duration of the ride.) 

Here is Remy and me, not taking naps.