When proofreading my clean baked apple direction bossing, I noticed instead of apple pie, I wrote applie pie. Every time. Which is why I proofread.
Applie pie. It's similar to how I have a hard time spelling prairie. Real similar.
It also leaves me pondering this thought.
Why do I write? Why do I take the time to sit in this chair and tap my keyboard trying to string words together to make my inside thoughts somehow come to the outside?
I do believe I might have just answered myself.
When life gets in the way and the tasks are more than fit in a day, this is the first thing which gets pushed to the bottom of the list. My writing and my pictures. And then this strange other thing starts to happen and it's called, I start to not be as shout from the roof happy. Not a surmountable change of course; I'm still a rather happy person but it's not that ridiculous kind where I find delight in everything, from grocery shopping to laundry washing to this...
To standing in my kitchen with the Norah Jones station on Pandora providing the soundtrack to the scene of hardboiling eggs and making homemade apple chips with green tea being the cocktail of choice while laundry is swish swishing in rhythm. It's borderline absurd how happy I am in that kind of a moment. Chores. For goodness sake, I was doing chores. But when I take the time to notice the beauty in the ability to do those chores, I feel this energy around. Ridiculous happy energy.
And then this really strange other thing starts to happen. I go back to my writing. Back to my pictures. Because those are what do it for me. They are what make me stay on this path to trying to be a good human. I fail miserably so often but when it's right, like a night with apple chips baking in my oven, it's so right.
Work tasks and other commitment tasks can not get in the way of my writing and my pictures. They need to become woven into them instead. I can't be letting go of some of those important stitches in my happiness quilt.
Why do I write? Why do I take the time to sit in this chair and tap my keyboard trying to string words together to make my inside thoughts somehow come to the outside?
I do believe I might have just answered myself.
When life gets in the way and the tasks are more than fit in a day, this is the first thing which gets pushed to the bottom of the list. My writing and my pictures. And then this strange other thing starts to happen and it's called, I start to not be as shout from the roof happy. Not a surmountable change of course; I'm still a rather happy person but it's not that ridiculous kind where I find delight in everything, from grocery shopping to laundry washing to this...
To standing in my kitchen with the Norah Jones station on Pandora providing the soundtrack to the scene of hardboiling eggs and making homemade apple chips with green tea being the cocktail of choice while laundry is swish swishing in rhythm. It's borderline absurd how happy I am in that kind of a moment. Chores. For goodness sake, I was doing chores. But when I take the time to notice the beauty in the ability to do those chores, I feel this energy around. Ridiculous happy energy.
And then this really strange other thing starts to happen. I go back to my writing. Back to my pictures. Because those are what do it for me. They are what make me stay on this path to trying to be a good human. I fail miserably so often but when it's right, like a night with apple chips baking in my oven, it's so right.
Work tasks and other commitment tasks can not get in the way of my writing and my pictures. They need to become woven into them instead. I can't be letting go of some of those important stitches in my happiness quilt.
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