More often than not, my best laid plans wrinkle into a heap and sit on the bottom of the hamper until an act of God grants me free time. This blog for instance; it was my intention to pick up again after the cherubs boarded the big yellow bus, but fate, the nasty little time-sucker, had other plans.
September began with the typical merry-go-round of school and sports, and in a blink, my car once again transformed from a sunblock scented road warrior to the sweat infested boy wagon. On the first day of classes, my oldest son walked in from football practice with a ream of policies and permission slips requiring my Jane Hancock.
Publicity: May we photograph your son/daughter during school events? Sure, maybe you can get him to smile. Signed.
Dress code: No bare midriffs, offensive t-shirts, ripped or torn clothing… I stopped reading after mesh. Signed.
Alcohol and Drug Use: Any student found in possession of illegal substances while on school property and/or school sponsored events are subject to expulsion. Expulsion is a bucket of puppies compared to what’s coming at home, pal. Signed.
Sexual Education: As part of the health curriculum, your son/daughter will be introduced to the following subjects: contraception, pregnancy, HIV AIDS, STDS. I introduced this in middle school, but go ahead, hammer the chlamydia nail home with my blessing. Signed.
With the kids back in routines, writing life kicked in. My fabulous beta readers piled on the editing work and freelance assignments poured in – including a riveting harvest festival expose’ and particularly gut wrenching piece on food poisoning. (I know you missed the puns.) I was back in the literary saddle and ready to re-enter the blogosphere on September 1st right on target!
And then, it started to rain in my living room.
Ah fate, you funny, funny gal. Good thing I don’t need a permission slip for mild substance abuse.