The Starving Artist: Chapter 46: Home, Home Once Again

I was in dire need of a break. A few days I could spend thinking of nothing. Oh, sweet nothing. So, I spent this week at my mother in law’s boyfriend’s cottage. Not exactly my home turf. And I suffered from a disadvantage. I didn’t know the rules. The schedules. The plan. And it was hard to guesstimate the lay of the land. I spent most of this time tripping, slipping and snapping in every sense of the word. I learned about the humming bird’s grumblings. I witnessed bees bumbling. I slid and slipped down muddy slopes. And was munched upon by many an eager mosquito. I am a small town girl living in the big city, transplanted to the deep north. And being that alone can encourage your mind to play tricks on you.

While away, I was busy convincing myself that I had forgotten how to do what I do. That I’d been beaten and p’ownd by my big mouth. I began freakin’ at the thought of forgetting how to pontificate. Expel and explain. What if I’d forgotten how to blog? What if I was suffering from a shell-shock writer’s block? Who am I? Do I matter? You know, all those big questions. I second guessed myself, I was ill-at-ease and I dragged my heels. I hfrumfphed through the boat rides and hikes. I couldn’t stop starring at the uneven path before me, struggling to master it, or at least figure it out. But there were moment when I finally looked up. Or stopped to listen to the grumble of the hummingbirds; and would realize, I loved every second of it. For the record though: I hate being beaten at my own game, which happens to be UNO. UNO! (Autocorrect has me capitalizing the whole word and who am I to disagree?) and I have to follow the rules after I get caught cheating.

So, Ladies and gentlemen, it is with great pleasure that I announce, I am on an upswing. I had to be a few screws short before screwing my head back on straight. I had to grumble and battle and sigh before I felt better. And after spending a solid month working the Burly circuit; networking and chin wagging, I was tired. My body was worn out. The sound in my left ear muffled. Then there was the stretched and sore jaw muscle I had relied on for oh-so-much whooing. I was a broken showgirl, and for some reason, I needed a break and to be reminded that Sudbury is freezing. And that there are places north of Sudbury, that are even colder. But it was when I began breathing in the city air again, that I found comfort in a deserted city park with a clear view of the CN Tower and the hummingbird whiz of the Gardiner expressway. I was home. I needed to hula hoop in the sun running on just Glory Doughnuts and hope. Hope that’d we’d found a new place to live, with our stinky dog. And when I sat down at the computer screen again…my mind was calm and my path clear, and the blog was written and we began again.

The Starving Artist: Chapter 46: Home, Home Once Again

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