On the Ball Again

Here I am, sitting on my offspring's yoga ball. Since my cat is still being weird, I have draped a blanket over it. She has already tried to jump up on it twice. I wonder if there's a market for yoga ball condoms, or if it's only MY cat that's into molestation.

Apparently there are patch kits for yoga balls. It was also pointed out to me that the ball came with patches originally. So even if others do not have cats like mine, I guess there are circumstances that lead to patch use. I'm just not going to speculate on what they are.

~

I was going to write more of Ann and her parents today, but the number 30 scared me. I thought I'd write a little on how this project affected me. After all; Roux is waiting just around the corner.

One thing that slowly came to my attention was my purse notebook. I have a small leather bound book that I carry in my purse. The pages on the left are blank for sketching, and the pages on the right are lined. I usually scribble in it a little every day. On slow weeks I'll get into it three or four times. It's a life saver during meetings. I look attentive, but my brain is on auto record for projects and pictures leak out onto the pages. I have a supreme indifference to chronology. I'll write where there's space. I'll draw in any corner. The pages are not necessarily sequential. I suppose it's overflow room when my brain gets too full.

This thirty days I wrote in it twice, and sketched not at all. I guess I've been so busy that there hasn't been much to overflow. This blog has taken all the flooding, and left my notebook high and dry. I feel a little strange about it. I've enjoyed this blog enormously. I miss my notebook. Looking at things in my notebook after not seeing them for a month is fun and exciting. I want to sketch and paint. Writing in this blog has forced me to treat this art more professionally, instead of being a spoiled hobbyist.

I think that after Roux's challenge I'll have to come to a compromise. Or perhaps I'll willfully change her challenge to 30 days spread every other day. Then my notebook will have the space to slip through my fingers.

Another thing I've noticed is the element of motivation. I started it because it sounded fun to do it with everyone. It was fun. I still like to visit everyone's posts. But as more and more people dropped out, I had to find different reasons to keep going. I couldn't tell myself that so&so had posted and I had to keep up. It's very easy to not post. Work drains me. I love it to death and I am good at it, so I give it more of myself than I would if I'm bored. My family life has been interesting. Emotionally and mentally, I no longer have to/want to do things the same way. It's exhausting to be in a groove for so long and then redefine the parameters of your existence.

I'm not sure why I kept posting. I wanted to give up after my posting days got sporadic too, but I didn't. Stubborn? I can hear my family snickering at the inadequacy of that word. But it only applies to small portions of my ethics. Happiness? Doesn't cover enough. Sorry, I wasn't happy most of the time. I was downright cranky many days I forced myself to post.

I guess I just decided I would. Anything else is just a reason; not even an excuse. I just would.

I'm looking forward to Roux's thirty. I am also looking forward to my weekend, to throwing more moving boxes out, and that I've finally uncovered my watercolors. But to Marrow's 30, this is it. Ciao.