Outnumbered, one to one

Within the past past week, at least three people have asked what has happened to my writing of late, for it seems to have taken a sudden and unexpected holiday.  I suppose the most honest answer to this is also the most insipid and commonplace; good ‘ole writers block I’m afraid.  It happens to us all at some point I suppose, though most inconvenient and irksome to the writer. It’s like asking a bird not to fly.

Over time I have learned, however, it is best not to try to force words where words are not, though simply writing a bit of nonsense here and there can prove beneficial in an odd sort of way.  After all, it’s not as if the thoughts are not there inside one’s head, they are simply buried underneath other thoughts that are less shareable, concealing what might have otherwise been written.

At least, that is how it often is for me. My most silent seasons of life are often my most thoughtful; when my head and heart are so full of contemplation that I end up saying none of it.  But perhaps that is just another one of my oddities.

In any case, I have decided to brush the dust off the saddle and ride for a bit, even if what I have to say means nothing to no one in particular.  A good ride to nowhere is still enjoyed by the rider….or the writer in this case.

Ha, I did not even plan that.

This entry is definitely going to live up to my blog title, sidewalk chalk indeed. Squibbles and scribbles and nothing much more. If you’ve never tried writing about nothing, give it try one of these days.  It’s much more pleasing than you might imagine, sort of like a hot shower at the end of a long day. Often underestimated until after you’ve done it and you begin to wonder if there is a way to live whilst showering all the day long.

Speaking of underestimation, do you know how long it takes to undo teaching your dog how to climb up your bed?  FOREVER AND EVER. AMEN.

I’m sure I’ve mentioned this before at some point, but since it’s still occurring I might just as well update you. Three years ago on a dark and chilly winter night, I was sick in bed and feeling miserable and sorry for myself.  Looking across the room my eyes fell upon a warm and cozy Great Dane and thought he looked like the perfect teddy bear to cuddle up next to for a bit.

Biggest mistake of my life.

Ever since then it has become what I refer to as the Dog versus Girl World War One in which I try millions of various tactics to try and outwit his attempts to get on top of the bed as soon as I leave, whilst he does his utmost to best me and my most valiant endeavors of doing so.  It has gone so far as me heaving chairs and other various furniture across the top of the bed to try and disarm his attempts, and him dragging entire duvets (furniture and all) to the ground with his ginormous self and setting up camp once he’s disarmed the territory.  Every day I come home to a face off and we see who has claimed victory for the day.  I’m sorry to say, he has won as many times as I have.

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