Hey, this is a PG-13 blog, so don't even let your mind go there. Wednesday-Thursday-Friday. That's what it stands for.
So, yeah, it's Wednesday on the old Death Writer blog and I have neither a writer nor a professional to talk with today. I am totally to blame as I didn't actively pursue anyone to interview until, well, today. And that would be Tuesday. I've been living. My son has been learning to swim. He's 8 and when we lived on that mountain in Colorado, we didn't exactly have swimming pools behind every house. So, he's learning how to be a little fishy a little later than most kids. But, what he lacks in experience, he makes up for with exuberance. He is slowly discovering how to move about in water. Yes, it freaks him out, but like his mom, he jumps in anyway. Sometimes with a gentle nudge from the instructor.
I've also been reading the Bible, a lovely Children's edition from the 60's, for my other writing project on religion. And let me tell you, it takes a loooooooooong time to read the Bible. You probably already know this if you're a Christian, but like my son, I'm arriving to the party a little late. Anyway, I'm like a graduate of the Evelyn Woods speed reading course and I still haven't gotten very far into it. I'm writing down passages and scratching my head and wondering where Cain's wife came from and all sorts of other stuff that makes no sense. Maybe if I'd read this earlier in my life, I'd get it. I've got four different Bibles, but I like the Children's one the best. I'm also starting a Bible study group on Sunday and I did the whole week's lesson in one day. When it asks, so how do you feel about Jesus now (I'm paraphrasing) I'm like, the same as I did yesterday. Ah, faith. Where art thou?
I've also been reading The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath. This could be contributing to my lackadaisical attitude this week. I'm kind of sucked in and repelled at the same time. I always knew that she'd committed suicide at the age of thirty and I'm thinking this book is somewhat autobiographical of her life, despite it being fiction. I could be wrong. I often am. It's kind of making me sad, but I would feel like a giant jerk if I didn't finish it.
So, yeah, it's Wednesday on the old Death Writer blog and I have neither a writer nor a professional to talk with today. I am totally to blame as I didn't actively pursue anyone to interview until, well, today. And that would be Tuesday. I've been living. My son has been learning to swim. He's 8 and when we lived on that mountain in Colorado, we didn't exactly have swimming pools behind every house. So, he's learning how to be a little fishy a little later than most kids. But, what he lacks in experience, he makes up for with exuberance. He is slowly discovering how to move about in water. Yes, it freaks him out, but like his mom, he jumps in anyway. Sometimes with a gentle nudge from the instructor.
I've also been reading the Bible, a lovely Children's edition from the 60's, for my other writing project on religion. And let me tell you, it takes a loooooooooong time to read the Bible. You probably already know this if you're a Christian, but like my son, I'm arriving to the party a little late. Anyway, I'm like a graduate of the Evelyn Woods speed reading course and I still haven't gotten very far into it. I'm writing down passages and scratching my head and wondering where Cain's wife came from and all sorts of other stuff that makes no sense. Maybe if I'd read this earlier in my life, I'd get it. I've got four different Bibles, but I like the Children's one the best. I'm also starting a Bible study group on Sunday and I did the whole week's lesson in one day. When it asks, so how do you feel about Jesus now (I'm paraphrasing) I'm like, the same as I did yesterday. Ah, faith. Where art thou?
I've also been reading The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath. This could be contributing to my lackadaisical attitude this week. I'm kind of sucked in and repelled at the same time. I always knew that she'd committed suicide at the age of thirty and I'm thinking this book is somewhat autobiographical of her life, despite it being fiction. I could be wrong. I often am. It's kind of making me sad, but I would feel like a giant jerk if I didn't finish it.
Here's Sylvia and her husband in happier days
So, I'm sorry I didn't provide you with a witty, wonderful writer or an angel of a professional today. Next week, I promise.
So, what are you reading? And if you don't read, can you swim? I certainly hope so. Because life would be pretty darn boring without books and large bodies of water. So, did you take lessons or did your older brother throw you in the deep end and you kind of winged it? An inquiring mind wants to know.