Semester Two, Packet One...

...is going in the mail! I did it somehow, though not sure how I will manage the next one with two weeks away, two classes to teach and a rather considerable Mommy load. Miracles do happen, and at least my new teacher, Dinah Lenney, is a mom.

Too Hot to Write

Nothing stymies the creative mind like a hundred degree heat... There's a reason the British wrote so much famous literature -- it's called rain.

Bouncy castles and memory

In my wonderful yoga class, I float into a state of serene mindfulness that is invaded by thoughts of taking my children out for hot chocolate in their pajamas, and a beautiful memory of my mum and dad taking my brother and me out in our robes that my mother had made, with the cords of twisted wool she later taught me how to create. Wonderful the way the writing of memoir renews one's memory and revives moments we thought lost forever. Twisted yarns, let go...

As for the writing itself, while the children are bouncing on inflatables in the morning this week, I am struggling with bringing my text to life. Frustration, elation, frustration -- the bouncy castle of the writer...

Trying to do Schoolwork while the kids are on school holiday...

..is like trying to clean your teeth with a frog... or something! Back to inter-spousal juggling to try and fit in at least an hour or two of writing here and there, but I don't think it's going to work in the long run...Hard to read at night, too, when the kids are still bouncing off the walls at 10pm. But it's making me amazingly phlegmatic.