For a week I lost the writing bug. I wanted to but was unable to come up with anything positive or productive. Reason: our calf had died a week ago and there were other things I was mulling over. The broody brain shortcuts any inspirational feed. Zodiac had somehow developed a calfy kids disease (as our vet put it). Long story short: our muppy made his journey to the eternal grass lands on Tuesday and we had to say goodbye to him. He was only 5 weeks old. The vet said we did all we could with the knowledge we had, but reality still sucks, pardon the phrase.
I miss the wee beastie and get too philosophical for my own good. I know he had a good time with us and we learned a lot by looking after him. Bottle feeding at 6.30 am and 6.15 pm. It was weird now not having to warm up his milk and that his enclosure his empty. I miss him because he was a curious and extremely gentle fuzz ball. We buried him in the pet plot under the stars. I can feel he’s gone home and that he’s ok, but burying is not my idea of a hobby.
So there you go: I write when I feel better. When I write a lot I’m happy. They go hand in hand like candy floss sticking to your hands. The writers’ block bug has set off in the wild again, grunting and muttering, leaving me in peace.
Truth is, I like coming up with some clever stuff now and again but let’s face it, I’m not a genius. I know this. I definitely have my moments, but I’m not nearly as smart as I like to be. I feel my 130 IQ should have a repolish. I can feel enormously blond at times which makes me feel embarrassed. At least I’m living and enjoying most of what I do so I’ll have to take the doh! streak in my stride. Have you ever had that?
I appreciate feedback: how have you found my lettery concoctions so far and what topics do you think would be good to write about? What do you think are the strong suits of this blog and what am I better off leaving alone? Thanks for that. I like getting gritty feedback, it keeps me on my toes.