I have had many-a-thoughts this week that go something like: “Ooh, I want to blog about that.”
Like how my Saturday family-day turned into a stuck-in-traffic adventure where the toddler spent a blissful hour naming different kinds of construction vehicles. Thanks to his affinity for trucks, I now know the difference between a “Back Hoe,” a “Track Hoe” and a “Front Loader.”
Or my miniature chicken pot pies. (Made in a cupcake pan with biscuits).
Or how we had a good Sunday evening snow on the way to procrastinator’s mass.
But then, right when I want to write: something happens. Work is busy. Children are busy. My brain turns off. And those moments of inspiration fade as fast as they arrive.
Isn’t that funny about inspiration? Like the delicate pattern of breathing: inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale — you have to have time to take in inspiration before you can let any out.
And this week hasn’t had much breathing room.
I am; however, hurrying home to cook a good family dinner. Something warm and herb-crusted on this cold Winter day.
But first, I want to pause, be still and exhale.
And then when I get home, I can focus only on breathing them in.