There’s something counter connective between the part of my brain that crunches numbers and the part that does words.  And, since crunching and re-crunching numbers at hyperspeed is my new “occupation,” I’ve been really struggling to unplug from that and get some writing done. 

I’m not whining.  I’m just saying.   

Now, when I don’t get any writing done….and by writing I mean something beyond dry entries into my journal about the weather or my aching whatever…or To Do lists…or Wal-mart lists – though, if I do say so myself – mine are pretty impressive sometimes, and make for a funny little slice-of-life Americana reading…   

Let me start that again… 

When I don’t get any writing done, my brain gets constipated.  Stopped up with words.  Like now…so when I do try to write…crap comes out in fits and starts…with a lot of pushing and grunting. 

Oy.  What a metaphor. 

See what I mean?? 

I read one time about Robert Dana, the Poet Laureate of Iowa…he came to the Quad Cities and I really wanted to go hear him speak at Augustana College, but I couldn’t find one other person who wanted to do that with me…typical…so I wimped out…and settled for reading the interview in the paper.  Anyway.  He said that he thought that the years of traveling around and being the Iowa Poet Laureate weren’t doing his writing any good.  He said that he was pretty sure that he needed to be a little bored to write well. 

I wonder how his poetry would fare if he were shakin’ it up in the second half? 

Boredom is something that scares the heck out of most people…me included…but I think we need it sometimes to pull ourselves back together.  A little focused boredom…as opposed to unfocused…like when you’re watching tv or something like that…which is mostly boredom with commercials breaks.  But, no writing gets done that way, either.  Or anything else creative, now that I think of it.    

I’m not bored.

Most of my time these days is spent calling and emailing mortgage lenders and trying to negotiate down that 1/8th of a percent that such and so has less.  And going slack-jawed and catatonic in front of the ticker showing the ups and downs of the long-term bond market on CNBC (which is supposed to be an indicator of what mortgage rates will do) like Tom watching…well…just about anything you can name that is sports-related and on television.   Not pretty.   

I’m WAY ready to be done with the high anxiety, sign-away-your-life-on-the-dotted-line part of shakin’ it up. 

OK.  Here’s the Good News. 

The kids are coming home for Easter.  I’m especially grateful for them to come since it will probably be our last holiday in this house…our last time together as a family in this house. Home is moving and this is a perfect goodbye, since Easter is my favorite. 

All about love and sacrifice and hope restored.   

Just when you think Evil has succeeded, The One comes back and kicks Evil’s butt and saves us all from Evil AND our Selves.  Redemption and resurrection.  Mercy and grace.  Stuff we all keep needing, no matter how good or bad we think we are.    

Not to mention colored eggs and chocolate and maybe a new outfit.