Writer's corner.....30 seconds after I stood up.
This has been a busy Christmas season for the little French lady and me. She takes a two week vacation during this time of year. We do things that will entertain both of us during the holidays.
I have been doing a little bit of geocaching in the previous months. At first, I didn't think she was interested. I was wrong. She had been sneaking a peak at my preparations for my adventure. One day she decided to follow.
Hmmm! I will bring her into the woods, walk her through mud, make her slither on the ground like a slug, I will make sure it is hell for her.
Well....That's not exactly what happened. We arrived near the geocache location and entered "the jungle" I had chosen. I had my little GPS in hand.
My wife said "Where are we going? How far is it? Let me see that GPS." That was the last time I touched the GPS that day.
I was looking under termite infested tree trunks, climbing trees, moving rocks that weigh more than I do, kneeling in drainage ditches, poking at animal scatology, rolling in ant hills and walking through a leaking cesspool. It was hell for me.
My wife loved it. She purchased her own GPS the next day. I am the official crawler of the team. My wife will touch no geocache that requires that her knees touch the ground.
During this vacation we have discovered 36 caches within 4 miles of our house. It kept us busy. There was not much time for writing a blog.
When we weren't geocaching we were playing Qwirkle. This is a simple game for anyone but to be good at it takes concentration. If your mind wanders, you're beat.
My wife beat me 10 times in a row. My mind tends to wan....what was I talking about?
I think I have DAD (deficit attention disorder). I may be dyslexic also. As I like to say, "Dyslexic untie" , our battle cry. This has also blocked me from writing my blog.
The biggest obstacle to writing my blog is losing my creative writing nook. That would be my Milan Puff chair w/Ottoman. I am not quite sure which day I lost it, but it's gone.
Wilson and I had a tacit agreement that the chair would be exclusively mine but he could use the ottoman at any time.
He respected this agreement for many months. Then, one morning he breached the contract. I removed him from my chair and put him on the ottoman. He kept going back to the chair. Before going to bed, I would put the ottoman on the chair. This prevented him from using the chair while we were sleeping.
One morning I came downstairs for breakfast. I looked in the chair. He was scrunched up in the chair behind the ottoman. He had the look of defiance, the attitude of Houdini after a miraculous escape. His demeanor said it all, like "nice try, Bucko!!!"
I had seen that cattitude many times.
well, I guess I am going to have to share.
If I get to the chair first and I am blogging on my laptop, he gets on the side of the chair, pushes his head under the laptop and lifts and he keeps lifting until I dispose of the laptop.
If he sees me walking toward the chair, he will run to chair and hop in it and glare at me.
If I stand up to look out the window, which only takes 5 seconds, when I turn to sit down again, he is in my spot in the chair.
I think it's Wilson's favorite game.
One day I whined to my wife, "He is ruining my creative flow. He has taken over my chair, he has ruined my life. I am done as a writer, a blogger. I am sure Hemingway didn't have to put up with this problem."
My wife started laughing.
" Now your comparing yourself to Hemingway? If you're Hemingway, I'm Bill Gates.
Do You mean Ralph Hemingway? Incidentally, Ernest was a big fan of cats and he probably did have this problem. Stop your whining. Fight for your chair. Work it out among yourselves."
After much bickering, threats and cajoling we came to some sort of agreement.
As I write this from the kitchen table Wilson sits in my? chair. I am blocked from my writer's nook.
Writer's block indeed!!!!