A poem, you say, can't be that hard. What's taking so long?
Two things.
One, I can't write poetry, so it's like trudging through mud up to my waist to get the rhythm and rhyme correct.
Secondly, life keeps getting in the way.
Take today, for instance...Writing poetry was number one on my to-do list. I always make a list. There is something about looking at it that spurs me on.
So, there I am standing ... staring at my list ... making up rhymes in my head when my brother calls. He has just written his opening chapter to his latest novel for the gazillionth time and wants me to read it and call him right back. (See previous blog on BROTHERS EAT DIRT).
Being the dutiful sister, I head to the computer when the phone rings -- again. It's my neighbor in medical distress and wants me to drive her to the hospital.
Being the dutiful neighbor, I head downstairs and off we go. Suddenly panic hits me...we are at the start of our season and the best way to get seen in the emergency room is by ambulance. Oh, no, I can't disguise my car as an ambulance.
We get to the hospital and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait. God it was sucky. But after I told the nurse I thought my neighbor was close to a stroke (a little wee fib) they put her in a hallway bed.
Oops, gotta go. I'd finish this, but I just got a call from the hospital -- my neighbor is ready to come home.
BTW: My blogging class was awesome. See what I learned.
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