Motherhussy

The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog. The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy log. The quick brown fox jogged over the loopy frog. The quick brown box shipped itself some grog. The quick, tasty lox removed itself from God. The blah, blah, blah, blahed over the lazy fox. Whoever said that Southern California doesn't get seasons wasn't walking with me last night. As I was taking the boys home from trick-or-treating I walked past a house that was littered in piles of dried leaves. I kicked them around, forgetting for a moment that I was in California, remembering fall in Utah. The smell of dried leaves was the scent of innocence. A time when the word "busy" or "stress" were only words on fiber commercials that came on in between morning cartoons. The leaves were small pieces of artwork, designed by temperature changes and shorter days. Speaking of, doesn't the day when fall falls back seem to last forever? I felt so rested and refreshed the next morning, but that only lasted a day. It took me only 24 hours to feel busy and stressed again. Normal. I don't like normal. I haven't wanted to write lately because I sit with my face staring at a computer screen all day. Why stare at a screen all day, then come home and stare at a screen even longer? Yes, I know, it's all for the sake of creativity. Well, my creativity is in my brain right now. Stewing, marinating, fermenting. I'm sure eventually something artistic will manifest itself. No guarantees though. The quick brown fox needs to take a shower.