I was laying on the hammock asking myself why I couldn't do anything anymore. A lot has to do with the bigger picture. The problem with the bigger picture is that it's perfect. The misty areas in this picture of the imagination are filled with wonderful mystery. The lines are straight. All is one in a warm harmonious geometry.
My house's "mystery areas" are filled with cobwebs, cracks, dust, upside-down roaches, hints of mice, lost toys, evidence of a quick job by a drunk carpenter.
The supplies for the new are spit out of machines or raped from the land.
Anyhow, I got a spark on the hammock... something had to be done. Got up and went to the Lowes and got some snap-together fake Butternut Pergo. It's lookin' good so far.
4 comments:
What I have found, when facing a mountain and wanting to run from it, is that when I just dig in and start tearing that mountain down, one scoop-full at a time, all of the sudden what appeared to be a mountain was just a little mole hill. Love, Mom
I'm about halfway there :)
your a good writer! you would think only mamas a good writer too, very descriptive! you should write a story I would love to read it!!! just keep on keepen on!love u!:)
luv u more
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