I've been sitting in front of my screen these days, waiting for that spark of inspiration, for an attack of witty genius.
It's a long wait.
That's why I haven't posted for a week. Did you miss me?
In the intervening weeks, I've trolled various forums, driven to Vermont, been to NYC to look at bridesmaid dresses, and unwilingly watched my "good-doober" horse break out in more insidious, fast growing lumps. He's lumpy. His steps are much slower these days, but his ears perk and he basks in the sun, with an expression that can only be interpreted as contentment. He groans happily when he rolls, blanket-less, in the sun-softened snow. It's not time yet, but it's coming.
My sadness is countered by all the progress for the wedding. The invitation proofs await approval, I met my sister in NYC to look at bridesmaid dresses, and tomorrow, Mr. W. and I head back to the city to pick out his outfit and wedding rings.
Wednesday I drove to Vermont with one of my NY friends. We had lunch at the Pub (yes, I had a Belhaven at noon!), meeting one of my VT friends there, bridging the gap between my past and my future. The farm is still standing. Phew. And I brought back my chocolate fountain. I have priorities.
Hmm...And I wonder why I am not losing weight?
I have found some motivation to work on the BFNE, more editing than writing. It's not that I am stuck. No, never that. Or that I had a blow to my fragile ego in the form of a particularly honest, and correct, critique of a poem I submitted on a writing forum. I am still tweaking it.
In general, mid-February, for me, tends to feel like the longest month. There are the teasingly warm days, melting snow, and stronger sun, beckoning me to ride, until I realize that the roads are still a treacherous combination of mud and ice, The fields have deep drifts of crunchy white. And there is my propensity to love thin-skinned, energetic Thoroughbreds, who have spent the dark, cold winter months in a fantasy of semi-feral freedom. All that energy, just waiting to be unleashed...
Tucker isn't like that, but he does seem to need a good gallop, based on his turnout antics. Bottom line, it would take a braver soul than I to throw a leg over his back without some lunging first.
Until a blast of intelligent blather spews from my fingertips, I will content myself with editing, dreams of warm weather, the promise of riding, and making wedding plans. It is, what it is. And maybe it won't seem like such a long wait.