While my book-sales take a Springtime nosedive, and I spend more time in the garden or working around the farm to worry about my failing writerly profile, or even how ill-disciplined I am toward my writing (to give myself a pat on the back: I did write from 11-12.15PM and reduced myself to tears as I wrote), I came inside this evening to find a link sent to me by my daughter for the most delicious and witty blog called Faux Fuschia.
I had crept into the laundry and divested myself of sheep-poo encrusted clothes, scrubbed my mud-filled nails, brushed out my seed filled hair and hauled myself to my wardrobe to climb into trackie bottoms and a polar fleece top. Flung tiny new potatoes on the stove to boil, made (gorgeous) mayonnaise and pulled Creole smoked salmon out of the fridge to eat tonight with white wine alongside. It’s all my aching hands, body and mind could manage.
And then I opened the computer and clicked on the link and stared at this divine woman’s slick home which was overflowing with colour, at her perfectly manicured nails, her beautifully applied lipstick and miraculously tied Pucci scarves – and thought how far removed from her I was at that moment.
That said; I vicariously enjoyed her perfection knowing I’m too tired to find my own. I also love that the Universe Talks to Her. To be frank it talks to me too, but it obviously says the same things in a different way.
BUT … I loved reading this blog tonight. It absolutely hit the spot because I needed the escape and sometimes things like picturesque blogs and Pinterest are the best medicine.
And tomorrow, if the Universe Talks To Me in the right way, maybe I shall pull out the gorgeous Gucci scarf my children gave me last birthday and try and tie it at least a little bit perfectly and maybe I shall even paint my toenails…