SOLSC and Maya Angelo

“Making a decision to write was a lot like deciding to jump into a frozen lake.” 

― Maya Angelou

If I didn't know better, I'd think that Ms. Angelou had participated in the SOLSC. If we're being honest, most of us think it's a little nuts to commit to the challenge of writing daily at this time of year...sort of like leaping knowingly into a frozen lake. On the other hand, there is the hope that the exhilarating jolt of jumping in with both feet will shock us out of the lethargy brought on by the long dark cold days of winter.

Either way, at the end of the month, we can look back and say we're glad we did it. In fact, most of us  already know we'll do it again. Sort of makes you look at those who jump into frozen lakes with a little more respect, right? A decision. One that may initially appear crazy, but in the end is worth it...for one reason or another.

The Hunt

When The Three were little, Easter morning always started with an egg hunt. Oldest was joined by Middle and then Youngest, and they would carry baskets from room to room, trailing strands of plastic grass as they searched not-so-high and more-often-low for colored eggs. In recent years, the hunt has been a little different. One Easter morning, they arrived downstairs to find little notes in the places the baskets usually waited. That was the first year for the Easter basket treasure hunt. The clues led them all over the house and outside--math problems, book titles or events, poems, songs, riddles and jokes. Some clues were easy; some required more time and thought to solve. Clue led to clue until the treat-filled baskets were found.

This year Oldest is not home for Easter, and the rest of us will get up early to drive to visit out-of-town Grandma and Grandpa. It will be fun, but I'll miss the hunt. Even though there will still be special treats for The Three, I think they will miss it too. We could do a hunt with just Middle and Youngest, but it's more fun with all of them, and it would have to be a short hunt...where's the fun in that? Part of the fun is watching them grapple with a particularly hard clue. In fact, that's the best part. Doing the hunt part way would mean losing the stuff that makes it fun, so we'll just wait for next year. Of course, this does give me a lot more time to come up with some good clues...The Three are pretty clever, and I could use the extra time.

East and West

This morning, I started my day curled up on the end of the long sofa where I can look up from my book and see out the East-facing dining room windows. I like watching the sky get lighter through the branches of the trees behind our fence.

Tonight, I settled in on the other sofa, where I can look up from my computer and see out the West-facing windows that overlook the front porch. I like that I can see darkness fall down the sky behind the trees in our neighbors' yards.

I feel a little like the shadow cast by the gnomon on a sundial; my feet a pivot point on the ottoman as I move from one sofa to the other, East-facing and West-facing.

Things I will never say

"I don't think we have room for any more books."

"I love roller coasters!"

"I'll take the brussels spouts."

"Chocolate and coffee are overrated."

"I hope we get a chance to bungee jump."

"Live where there are not any trees? Why not?"

"I'm never going outside again."

decisions

Sometimes easy decisions are hard to make.

Like this morning, when I was at the store and stood in front of the bookshelves with Oldest, talking about what books and authors and series we've both read and both want to read. He walked out with one. I left with nothing because I couldn't decide, but that's ok, because I'll read his, and Middle already gave me one she had finished.

Tonight, Youngest and I couldn't decide what we wanted to have for dinner. After a bit of discussion, we realized that the heart of the problem was that we both really wanted snacks. He wanted ice cream; I wanted chips and salsa. The part we couldn't decide was what "real" food to have first. Ultimately we didn't decide on dinner. We each ate a banana, thinking that might count for any sort of healthy eating requirement if someone asked. Then we ate snacks.

I thought my toughest decision tonight might be what to slice. I was wrong. The whole time I've been typing this (how do my fingers get this done when my mind is on something else? strange...), I've been contemplating whether to read here on the sofa after I post, or up in my bed. I'm already here, and so is the book, but my pajamas and the big comforter are up there. I'm not sure what to do. It shouldn't be that hard, and yet here I sit, wavering.

unexpected

Today when I got to work, these were on my desk, along with a card and chocolate.
No special occasion.
Not a treat from Husband.
A friend was there when I was not, and left them behind.

On a day with too many things to do,
blustery cold outside,
and the
weight of stress-filled
recent days,
my desk suddenly looked appealing.

My day started with an unexpected surprise,
chocolate to go with my coffee,
and the scent of roses
every time
I entered the room.

I think I blew it...

I'm pretty sure I messed up, even though I was just trying to make someone feel special. I just didn't think it all the way through. Take a look--this is a text message conversation I had with Middle while I was at Youngest's swim meet tonight:

Me: Go to this on your computer and read this: slicesfromthesofa.blogspot.com
(last night's post was all about Middle)

Middle: K :)

Me: Do NOT click the link on your phone--use ur computer
(sometimes she forgets she does not have a data plan)

Middle: K :)

Middle again: I love it!! P.S. I read some more posts and now know about dads food hiding. Let the search begin :) mwah ha ha!!! :)
(oh nuts...I forgot about the post from the night before...in which I reveal Husband buys extra cookies and hides them so Oldest, Middle, and Youngest don't eat them all!)

Me: Oh no!! That one was a total lie...:) Actually he did leave both bags out this time...one got finished already because u all eat a lot of cookies

Middle: heeheehee...I'll have to keep an open eye in the future...this is very valuable information :)

Me: oh hush...don't ruin the special mother daughter thing
(sending her that link was to make her feel special...and look what happened!)

Middle: ok, love you :) :)

Like I said, I really blew it....

eye to eye

When I stand facing Middle, we look each other right in the eye. She claims she's taller, and she may be right. When she wants to lay her head on my shoulder, she has to lean a bit. She's tall enough now that I can lay my head on her shoulder. It's a little strange. We are very close to being just the same size. It's true there are a few minor differences, but we can wear each other's clothes, and she has handed a few things down to me. We don't share shoes though. Middle's feet have been bigger than mine for at least 3 years. She's going to be tall, like Husband.

Middle sometimes comments on what I'm wearing (and apparently I'm either lucky or have good taste--she only says nice things) and helps me know if the back of my hair looks ok. She asks me about her clothes or hair sometimes too, and I take it seriously. After all, not all 15 year old girls want to know what their mothers think about such things.

Sometimes Middle and I like to go out together, just to run errands. We feel like it's important that we stick together. After all, at our house, boys outnumber girls. I tell her often that I need her and that it would not be cool for her to abandon me to all those men. She laughs when I say that. We sort of like the men at our house, big and small. That doesn't mean we don't appreciate a little girl-only time every now and again.

I still feel a little start of surprise every time Middle and I brush shoulders and when I turn I find myself looking right into her beautiful brown eyes. While it's true that we sometimes push each other's buttons, more often than not we like being together, side by side and eye to eye.

Cookie Monsters

I can hear Husband in the kitchen. He's looking for cookies...some of which have been eaten. I'm sure he thinks it was Oldest, Middle, and Youngest who opened the bag and started eating. He's mostly right. I will admit to opening the bag first, but it has one of those nifty resealable flaps so you can't really tell it was opened until you peek inside and see some are gone. But only a couple were gone after I was there. I swear. When the kids went to get some cookies, Husband and I were not in the kitchen, and they were all careful not to ask how many they could have. They took the simple, "yes, you can have cookies" and ran with it.

Homemade cookies are what I really want, but I wat way too tired to make them today and Middle disappeared all afternoon and Oldest only believes in eating them, not making them. Youngest wants to learn but still needs a lot of help. I just didn't have it in me today.

Luckily for all of us, Husband went to the store for me today. He buys cookies. Now he's out there, looking to see how many are left. Good thing he had the foresight to buy 2 bags. And he knows to hide one (yes, I know where, but if you think I'm telling, you obviously do not know me well). If the kids ever realize he does this kind of thing, they'll probably start helping carry in groceries, at least when he does the shopping. Until then, I can be sure that there are cookies, even if Oldest, Middle, and Youngest don't know it.

The Good and the Bad

The good news is that today is Friday.
The bad news is that I've been feeling off all week.
The good news is that there was one more open appointment at the school clinic.
The bad news is that I have strep throat...again.
The good news is that I got to go home in time for the tournament games on tv.
The bad news is that I kept falling asleep and waking up to a different game.
The good news is that there was a lot of good ball being played.
The bad news is that I did not choose wisely when filling out my bracket.
The good news is that after a bath, I was warm for the first time all week.
The bad news is that the fever came back.
The good news is that I got the good meds.
The bad news is that I am not a patient patient.

The good news is that while I snuggled under a blanket, Husband picked up dinner, Oldest volunteered to go to Youngest's music event for me, Middle did some cleaning before leaving for the evening, and the good and the bad of the day provided a slice.

March (is) Madness

March made indeed be what madness is all about.
On the first day of spring, I woke to cold and blustery winds and snow on the ground and in the air. With less than a week until spring break, kids at school watched out the window as thick snow fell faster than moral when they realized it was too cold to go out for recess.

Spirits are high as tournament time starts. The opening games are a mix of expected domination and unexpected upsets. Games are close then blowouts and everyone roots for teams they know nothing about for the sake of their brackets being right. TV, phone and internet keep us all plugged in and from down the hall groans or cheers are heard close on the heels of the alert chimes of smart phone apps.

At school, March is no man's land. Too far from the end of the year to be excited, but long past memories of the long winter holiday break. Just as we get to start school mornings with at least a bit of sunlight, daylight savings plunges us right back into the dark, and the light-later-than-usual evenings are still too cold to venture out in.
March is madness all around.

You know how...

1. You know those moments when you're working with kids, and one says something brilliant and you wish there was a camera on to capture it? Well, today I had a camera running.
2. You know how sometimes the secret-back-up stash of chocolate is full enough that every time you reach deep into the back of that hard to get to drawer there's more? Well, today there was.
3. You know how there are things you want to run to the store for but it seems like too much work and somehow someone reads your mind and picks up that exact thing? Well, today Husband did that for me.
4. You know how on some days you know you should do something and you really want to but just aren't sure you can, and then you manage to do it? Well, today I kept my tired eyes open long enough to slice.

I didn't even know I needed to know this

One of the most interesting gifts Youngest (a big believer in interesting things) has received over the past few years is a subscription to Mental Floss magazine. It's packed full of stuff you didn't even realize you wanted to know. The current issue is beside me on the sofa, open to a page with a bunch of riveting facts about time.
Here are a few:

Did you know that a $1 bill circulates for about 21 months, while coins average 25-30 years? Anyone who digs around in my school bag or purse could tell you that. There are never any bills. There are always coins.

We all have heard that humans need about 8 hours of sleep. A giraffe only needs 1.9. A cow needs 4....huh....who knew I was sleeping more like a cow than a human? Something to think about. I'l like to try sleeping like a giant armadillo. 18.1 hours. Maybe not all the time--I'm just saying it might be nice to try it once.

Apparently, chimpanzees spend 6 hours a day chewing. Really? Chewing what? Must be something other than bananas, right?

Know how long the average hug is? 3 seconds. The journalist who compiled all this stuff and more into a book says that a day is about 28,800 hugs long. That's a lot of hugs, even if you have a lot of people to hug.

See what I mean? This magazine shows up, and every time, I learn things that I didn't even know I wanted to find out. Maybe I should  find out how much time I save each month wearing shoes with no ties versus those with ties...or count how many hugs long a slice take to write...

Nephew and Nonner Mommy

Tonight I went to my oldest nephew's senior music recital. To say that he's a talented musician is an understatement. Nephew can play just about anything within a few minutes of picking it up. Next fall he'll head off to college to continue to study music. He's going to love it.

This is the boy who I held in my arms for the first time not long after we discovered Oldest was on his way. The boys grew up together. Nephew and Oldest were quite a pair, and have come so far since the days of banging on pots with wooden spoons and playing a mean Barney Banjo....for long periods of time.

When he was very young, Nephew called me Nonner Mommy....he already had one mommy...I was the "nother"one. Tonight as he collected congratulations from assorted friends and family, I reached up to give him a hug and tell him what a great job he'd done. A voice much deeper than it used to be replied, "thanks Nonner Mommy!" I'm not sure which of us had the bigger grin.

These little piggies...

These little pigs once belonged to my grandmother. After she died, these were among the things my aunt brought out for my siblings and cousins to look through. I'm not sure why, but I found something very appealing about these little guys. They are salt and pepper shakers. I have no memory of ever seeing them before my aunt brought them out, but I know they must have lived in a cupboard or maybe out on a counter or tabletop at Grandma's house. But surely I would have remembered that--I mean, I'm not sure that I could have resisted playing with them if they had been on Grandma's table. They look like the kind of pigs would need to have a conversation or do little dances or run away from the steak knives.
I haven't asked my mother if she remembers them. For now, I'm just glad they live on the window ledge above the sink in my kitchen, where they've found a home among the chives and parsley. They are happy there.

Shhh....

I alone in the house.
Let me say that again--I am alone in the house.
I have been here all by myself for just over 2 hours. I cannot remember the last time this has happened for more than a few minutes.
I watched basketball, but it seemed like too much noise and too much action. Life has been that way pretty much all day every day for a long time.
So I turned it off, much as I wanted to see who won. I'll check it out on Sports Center later.
I took a bath. I read. I put on the softest clothes I could find. I almost didn't slice because the sound of clicking keys seemed intrusive somehow. The only sounds are occasional creaks from around the house, distant rumbles of car or train engines,  paper rustling as pages turn, and the sounds of my own breathing.
Shhh....

On Friday, We Know

We don't need a calendar to tell us it's Friday at this house. Everyone staggers into the house from work or practice or a meeting, and more than one coat doesn't quite make it onto the hook or hanger or chair back. Bags are carried just far enough to not be counted as left in the doorway.
It's common to find a shadowy lump in a chair or on a sofa in a room that is dark because flipping a light switch seems like too much effort. Often each person finds his or her way to a different room, too worn out for company. The energy level in the house would make a sloth appear hyper.
Even when someone has something planned, and even if it's a much anticipated event, the getting ready takes at least twice as long as usual. It's accompanied by deep sighs and sometimes a soft groan. Going and doing isn't the problem. The problem is momentum.
Dinner is late on Fridays. It takes a while to work up the desire to do something about the hunger pangs. Sometimes someone takes one for the team and agrees to go pick up carry out. Often it's the person who hasn't yet managed to change into sweats or pajamas.
Bedtime becomes a problem only because bed is so far away. There are stairs involved, and teeth brushing, and defying the gravity that keeps us pinned to our spots. There is no need for a calendar to tell us the day of the week. On Friday, we know.

The Slice That Isn't

I have started this slice 3 times.

The first idea had an awesome title and a great premise...but no content (no, I cannot tell what it was! What if the rest of it comes to me on another day this month? I need the potential for an idea, even if I don't have a real one, and the title is awesome).

The second one bored even me. And I have low standards.

The next try had promise, and I got 3 short, snappy paragraphs done before rereading, only to realize that sentences that wander around without going anywhere are not snappy at all.

So this is a slice that isn't. It isn't a story or anecdote or list or poem. It's just a collection of unrealized potential, a series of starts that weren't, and endings that never happened.

Oh boy!

I'm excited, and when I tell you why, I just ask that you don't jump to conclusions.

Husband has done something wonderful. Something that is causing me to especially look forward to going up to bed. A lot. So much that I'm anxious to finish slicing.

(Hey now--just what exactly are you thinking?)

It's just that when he told me what he was going to do, I immediately started figuring out how much longer til bedtime. And I'm a girl who will do almost anything to avoid figuring elapsed time.

(Seriously, I cannot believe that you thinking what I think you are thinking.)

Husband knows how to make woman happy at bedtime.
You see, a while ago, he put my flannel jammies and fleecy socks into the washing machine. Then that handsome hunk of a man put them into the dryer. And the buzzer is about to go off. That means I'm about to be handed a hot pile of comfort just in time to slide in between the cool sheets of our bed. Bliss.

Aren't you ashamed of where your mind has been?

Ready

I'm ready for warm weather. It doesn't need to be hot; just warmer than it is now. My hands and feet get cold sometime in late October and stay that way until they thaw sometime in late March or early April or whenever the fickle Indiana weather decides I've suffered long enough.

I'm ready for days outside. They wouldn't have to be perfect days; just good enough. I love to watch it snow and have been known to instigate snowball fights and have engineered the building of more snowmen than I can count but sometimes a girl needs to get out and walk on newly warm grass.

I'm ready for a little sun. It doesn't need to be constant; just more than a peek every week or so. I have been wearing several layers even when I'm inside and have worn my thick socks thin and I am pretty sure I cannot remember what I look like with a little--but not too much--skin showing.

I'm ready. I don't want it all; just enough. Skin to feel a little sun and bare toes on warm grass and fingers that don't look purple-blue and just enough warm for it not to be cold.

I should know better...

Two years ago on this date, I was 11 days into my very first SOLSC. Now into my 3rd challenge, I caught myself wondering what I had sliced about on the 11th day the first time around. That poem, Sounds of Tournament Time, really was a little peek into my early March life--I was watching a basketball game and wanted to capture the feeling of the game through the sounds of it. It's not the only March slice I've written that involves the tournament. There was one last year too.

I started wondering what my other slices are revealing about my life. As a potential spy/undercover FBI agent (see this one--but don't tell anyone!), I have to think about things like this. Are my slices too revealing? After all, there are fall slices about the first day of school and college football game day. There is at least one about how much I love to watch it snow. There are summer slices that capture the summer talk of Oldest, Middle, and Youngest and describe the pleasures of night swims.

I know I'm not alone in rereading certain books or series at different times of year or in different stages of life...but really. Leaving a written record of my life patterns? What am I thinking? After all, even my mother, called to check on me after finding out via slice from the sofa that I was sick. I didn't even know she knew what a blog was.

As someone who aspires to join the covert ranks of those who make intrigue and secrets their way of life, I definitely should know better.

Window Watching

Window watching
Waiting
Wondering if the darkening sky
Will or
Won't bring rain before dark
Where the treetops reach above houses
Wind blows them gently
When the clouds get dark and
Woeful
We know it can't be far off
Waiting
Window watching

My stint as the night owl

I am not a night owl; in fact, my definition of night owl is mocked by true night owls. I prefer mornings and like the quiet start of the day. Husband is the opposite. He likes to stay up late and sleeps late any chance he gets. When I get up in the morning, I slip out quietly so he can keep sleeping, and when he comes to bed at night, he turns off everything left on when I fell asleep--usually minutes after my head hits the pillow.

Husband has been out of town for three nights now, and doesn't return until tomorrow evening. I miss him for a lot of reasons. One is that the bed feels too big, and without him there, it's also too cold. I miss talking with him and figuring out who is going to do what to get chores done and kids where they need to be. I miss catching up on shows he DVRs so we can watch together in the early evening--a time of day we are both awake.

But the other thing I miss is that Husband is the one who stays up until everyone is home for the night. I usually am awake (or mostly so) until everyone is home, but I almost always get to go on up to bed and wait there, where I doze off and on. Then, while he sleeps as long as he likes the next morning, I get up and oversee the waking of the house--and early runs to things like before school practices.

So far each night Husband's been gone, the Three have had school events or friends over or some sort of social something that keeps them up late or out late. I've been staying up until Oldest and Middle are in for the night and then getting up just ahead of Youngest (the most likely to follow in my morning footsteps). Right now I'm on the sofa working so I can stay awake until Oldest gets home. He texted to ask if he could stay late to help clean up. My fingers typed "sure" as my voice cried no--but what's a mother to do?

And then I read a friend's slice. She mentioned the time change, and my heart sank even further. It's "spring forward". Which means as I wander around the house, trying desperately to remember where all the clocks are, it will seem as if each one of those faces will be mocking me, "you think it's 10:30? Ha! Try 11:30!" I miss Husband even more. Seeing those clocks jump an hour ahead will only make it worse--trying to be both the night owl and the early bird.

My basement has come alive

My basement has come alive--not in a creepy way. In a cool, noisy, Friday-fun, this-is-the-place-to-be sort of way. At last count, there were 9 high school swimmers here...plus the 2 that live here...plus Youngest, who slips down to grab snacks, then comes back upstairs, where he has complete control over the family room. The older kids not only tolerate him, but often include him, asking him to leave only when the too-old-for-12-year-olds movie is about to start.

They poured through the front door a while ago, a laughing, happy hoard of great kids who know how to have fun without ending up in jail. My kind of kids. A couple of the girls carried pans with goodies, one still warm from the oven. These are also kids who share....yum!

Shouts and hoots of laugher, punctuated by squeals from the girls leaked up the stairs and through the vents. Darts thumped against the board and music blared. Not window-shaking loud, but loud enough to dance upstairs if we wanted to. The teasing and game-playing lasted a while, and then a couple ventured upstairs. Bags of chips, bottles of soda, the carried-in goodies...all disappeared downstairs. They came back for plates and cups and even napkins.

The lights are lower down there now, and voices are quieting, but not silent, as the sounds of the movie start. This is not by any means silent movie watching. In fact, I think that there is often a gender-split debate over the merits the chosen movie. I have no idea who usually wins.

I know that as the night continues, it will get quieter still. It won't be a super-late night, and there won't be a mess when they leave. Like I said, my kind of kids. I love that they come here. I love that Oldest and Middle have this group of friends. I love that Youngest watches and learns about friendship and being part of a group from these kids. And right now, I love that my basement has come alive.

100

Huh. I logged on to slice, and there it was in the stats that show up when I open my blogger account. I had no idea.

99 posts.

Apparently, this will be slice number 100 from the sofa. Part of me thinks, "only 100? Really? Seems like I've been doing this longer than 100 posts....or maybe that is a lot and I'm just oblivious."

Either way, I have nothing. Nada. Zip.

Disappointing, right? You probably were expecting something clever or funny or....well, good. But here you are, still reading, even though this is certainly not 100th-slice worthy.

But you know what? I'm sitting here on the sofa slicing (yes, the sofa...where almost all the slices were written...see the picture to the right? That's where my rear end is parked right now). And wanna know something cool? When I sat down to do this late on a looonnnggg day, I had not one single idea in my head. But I sat down to slice anyway, and there it was.

99 posts.

In my mind, this proves it.
If you believe hard enough, the Slice Fairy will provide.

Addicted

Recently, I've become hooked on some stuff....mostly stuff I learn about from the friends of Oldest and Middle. Not all though. Husband has a hand in part of this.
Curious?
Be careful. This stuff is dangerous. It seems unlikely, but any one of these things can cause an addiction problem before you're aware of it, and some may be gateway vices that lead to things far more serious.

In no particular order, I've become hooked on:

• 4 pics 1 word app (went up 50 levels in about 5 minutes today!)
• Mega Stuff Oreos (no, I'm not kidding)
• Robot Combat League on SyFy channel (a new dream of mine is to do this--I almost cannot believe how much I love this show)
• Spicy Sweet Chili Doritos (and I don't even like Doritos)
• my new sweat pants (not sweating...just the pants)
• board game Tri Spy (not playing for real; it's just out and I walk by and see matches)
• Twitter (Oldest taught me; I mostly follow his friends--entertaining, and the source of 2 other things on this list)
• Bun bars (I don't even like them but Husband bought a giant box and left it out

This is the short list. Youngest and Middle are sitting on either side of me right now. They are laughing at me. "No Mom," says Youngest, "we're laughing with you." 

"No, laughing at you," chortles Middle.  That's why Youngest is my favorite. 

I'm trying to figure out why they can't see this as a call for help...though admitting I have a problem is the first step. 

But first, I wonder if there are any more of those Oreos left....or a Bun bar....

Big Night for Youngest

Tonight was a big night for Youngest--his very first swim meet. He missed the first meet because he was sick, so the anticipation leading up to this was pretty big stuff. He said that having your first meet ever be against the strongest opponent of the season is not exactly a confidence builder. Of course, to have me believe that his confidence has been shaken, he's going to have to deliver that line without laughing....or following up with a comment about how he felt like he swam pretty well overall.

His events included one that Oldest has been swimming the past 2 years for the high school team and one that Middle swam most of this season. After a long high school season watching from the stands, Youngest was finally have his day in the sun...er, pool. He's been waiting for this for so long.

Youngest had informed his brother and sister that since he's been attending their meets for so long, he expects them in the stands for at least some of his. Middle was there tonight, and Oldest expressed what appeared to be genuine regret that he had another commitment and couldn't be there. He also seems pretty psyched that Youngest is swimming "his" event...something Youngest seems pretty proud of too.

I started thinking back to our very first season as swim parents, when Oldest was in 6th grade. Then our second first swim season with Middle. Youngest has been waiting for this for a long time. It's our third go at a first swim season...I have to say that it was just as much fun as the first and second were.

past my bedtime: a lament

Up late
again
is not a good thing for me.

I like
snuggling
into my covers much earlier.

My eyes
burn
from too many hours open.

Grumpiness over this thing
settles
in me.

Too late to make a change
peevishly
I persist.

Tomorrow will come early
waking
too soon.

I already know how this ends

It's quiet enough in the house right now that I can hear the ticking of the clock on the shelf. I've been listening to it for the past 5 minutes, thinking. Deciding.

It all started innocently enough. Friday night I was ready to start a new book, and picked up one that I've read at least 3 times before. It's not a long read, and I knew I could put it down and walk away from it when I needed to do something else.

Saturday I woke up early, and thought I might as well finish the book--after all, it wouldn't take long. Enjoy my coffee as I read to the end and then back on the shelf. But somewhere about halfway through the second cup of coffee, without really thinking about it, I let the just-finished book slide down my lap to the sofa as I reached for the never-read-before book resting on the end table and opened to page one. I didn't mean to, but it was too late.

Then later on Saturday, the never-read having become an already-read, I found myself in front of the shelf behind the big chair in the family room. Looking. I had done several of the small chores around the house and had spent a couple hours running errands with Husband. There was more to to. My hand was on book two of the series that the Friday book starts...yes, I know. I should never have started a well-loved series. I thought I could stop. I was wrong.

I'm now sitting here. Listening to the clock and looking back and forth. The school bags on the floor at my feet with unfinished work, and the unfinished-but-read-before-and started-again book three of that series on the arm of the sofa across from me. The end with the bookmark sticking out is facing me. It's already halfway to the end.

So, um...

Oldest and I are sitting across from each other--each on a sofa, laptops balanced on legs stretched far enough to reach the ottoman in the middle. He asks what I'm doing, and I tell him that I'm commenting on slices, and then need to write mine.

"I don't know why you do this challenge thing," he says, "it seems like a lot of work."

"I just enjoy it I guess," I reply, "and by the way, do you have any material for me?" Those who've read my slices during past challenges may remember that I shamelessly use my family to supply me with slice ideas. Don't judge me.

Oldest moves on to surfing a website with funny quotes. He laughs at one about how not to end a class presentation (So, um. Well.....yeah). "That's pretty much how all of mine end!" He reads a few more and looks up. "Still slicing?"

"Yep."

He continues to read random quotes and other bits of information. I tell him thanks--I'm done slicing and I appreciate his help.

So, um. Well.....yeah.

You know you're in trouble when...

You know you're in trouble when you can't find inspiration in a quiet morning, just-brewed coffee, and a doughnut from the local bakery.

Even after you've promised one young writer that this year you will help her create an online space to share her writing, you begin to worry that your own enthusiasm is missing in action.

Once you fired off not one, but three email reminders that it's that time of year again, you start to question the wisdom of reminding others who are going to ask about your work.

The panic though, settles in when you open the computer and there it is--the blank box and the blinking cursor, mocking you.

You know you're in trouble deep when it seems logical that you must have left the ideas behind when you crawled out of your warm bed, so you get up to back to find them.