A Letter to Darlene

Dear Darlene,

You know, forgetting to call someone back when you are exceptionally busy is a fairly common occurrence. While uncharacteristic of you, it didn't occur to me to take it personally. Had I been in a place of emotional crisis when I called, that might have been the case. You will be happy to know, however, that I am not in a place of crisis - other than experiencing strong feelings of remorse over my VISA balance, and my inability to pay more than half of that balance. And I am also feeling some remorse over having spent $50 on some great deals at Old Navy today. There is some irony regarding today’s spending, as the only reason we were at the mall at all was to walk and get some exercise. When we started walking at 9:15am this morning I cockily thought to myself, "Hey, I don't have to spend my hard-earned money on a fitness club membership in order to get exercise! All I have to do is Walk the Mall! Think of all I'll save."

Anyhow, that wasn't why I was calling yesterday. In fact, none of the above had even happened yet. The reason I was calling was simply to tell you that I have a book for you that I picked up in the library freebie bin. “Dr. Zhivago.” Do you have it?

There's another book I picked up too - one I both have and have already read (“Silas Marner” by George Eliot) but I am reluctant to part with that one because of the nice woodcut illustrations throughout. I considered giving you my other copy of “Silas Marner”, but it is, unfortunately, connected in one volume to two other George Eliot novels which I haven't read yet. Perhaps since you didn't call me back yesterday, I should quit wavering and just keep the new copy for myself.

I have not been writing at all lately, despite having a wealth of material stirring around in my brain. I wonder if it is a rare thing for a writer to have too much they want to say. I don't know where to start. I could write about my adventures in amateur philately, adventures in going through the personal-growth book "Inside Out", or adventures in Bruce being in Mississippi. With my mom here, I am unable to quite relax. I cannot help but be somewhat unnerved by the idea of her cleaning out my refrigerator while I lounge and work my way through my latest library book. Even writing this feels like a bit of a luxury. And yes, as I write this, she is still working on removing mystery crusts and goos from my fridge's interior .

Yesterday I was going to write, but my mother threatened to disinherit me if I didn't work on grooming Seamus. That took a couple hours and still isn't done. Prior to that I'd actually sat down to write, but the phone kept ringing. I kept answering it. Mistake. Then, I had an amazing epiphany about something very specific that I was absolutely burning to write about as soon as I returned home from picking the kids up from school. Unfortunately, I had promised to take Jack and Sabrina to the toy store, so away we went, and now, for the life of me, I cannot remember what that epiphany was.

Well, as this is the only writing I've done this week, I think I'll blog a copy of this. I hope you don't mind. Then I think I'll go read.

Linda

"No man can be called friendless when he has God and the companionship of good books."
-- Elizabeth Barret Browning (1806-61)