Saturday

This morning I was considering what to eat for breakfast and I remembered Julie talking about sweet potato pancakes and I decided that was what I needed to make. So, long story short, because this in not really the point of this post, Rob and I finally ate them at around 1:00. True I was not considering breakfast until around 10:00, but still, that's a good three hours later. They were very good though.

After this and sweeping off the back porch I decided that I had accomplished enough for today and decided that I needed something to do that wouldn't take too much strain (physical or mental). Then the brilliant idea hit me: I'll read peoples blogs for the past however long it's been since I looked at them. Sometimes when you guys start talking about something that's already known because it's been written on blogs I feel a bit left out, but having hours worth of reading on back blogs can be quite useful.

So, what was my point? I don't know, I think writing this post may be causing too much mental strain. It's just one of those days.

Restricted Access

So, I put my blog on restricted access because when I wrote my first really short little post and then didn't look at my blog for a while, some random person commented on it. And I was all "Who are you?! Don't comment on my blog! I don't know you!" So anyway, I got all securityified. Obviously, it's been a while and I have only just now invited some people besides Rob, just because I didn't get around to it. Anyway, if there's anyone in the Monday night group or whatnot who says, "I can't read Anna's blog, she didn't send me an invitation," tell them it's not personal, I've just been haphazard about it, so they just need to send me an e-mail.

Barren Words

So, people I know write in their blogs a lot. They might not consider it a lot, but I do. I have had a lot of trouble with wanting to write things down in the past... maybe 4 years. I used to journal all the time, especially in high school and the beginning of college. But now, I try to say express something in words and they just seem inadequate and barren. It can be different when you are talking to someone, although I generally don't speak as much as other people either. But when I do, expression, voice and the recognition and response of the other person let me know at least that perhaps what I'm saying is understood, if not expressed well. With a blog, it's like I'm writing into the void and it's strange.

I generally do the same things all the time. I massage people, I walk, I read, I paint, I swim, and it's all very lovely and nice, but I it doesn't leave me with much to particularly tell. Maybe I just don't try very hard.

I like swimming. When I first plunge into the water I am suddenly surrounded by the stillness that it provides and I am struck by the vast difference of it compared to the noise of the air. On a sunny day the light sparkles through the water and it's one of my favorite things. Then I surface and pull myself through 30 laps. Sometimes it's easier and I can still enjoy the water, and sometimes it's hard and all it's all I can do to will myself to keep going. The initial enjoyment always keeps me coming back for more.

So, that wasn't so hard. Maybe next time I'll muse about walking and trees and wind and things.