Writing Wrongs

July 24, 2005

I think it started when Kyra was trying to get Andrew to chase her by snatching his gold medal from basketball. He obliged, and there was lots of giggling, laughing, and squealing. And then, cornered in the bathroom, Kyra panicked.

She threw his gold basketball medal in the toilet. And then it was crying, and wailing, and gnashing of teeth.

At least she didnít flush.

This morning, I had every intention of writing--and sorting things out. One of the few reasons I was sticking with the parenting journey class was a good writing friend of mine, and she decided to drop out--right at the moment when I thought I had another story idea, of course.

So I was pondering that when one of the dogs woke Kyra way too early. I got her settled on the couch (what is it about the couch?) when the other decided it needed to vomit the equivalent of its own weight. All over the floor.

This, of course, is the sort of event Bob sleeps through.

It was about this time I decided that writing just wasnít going to happen this weekend. So I cleaned a little. Actually, I cleaned a lot, but it only looks like I cleaned a little. And I think Iíll spend the rest of the evening reading.

So, how was your weekend?

Charity Tahmaseb wrote at 5:58 p.m.

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