Can’t Even Think of a Title
I am just busting out of a prolonged (nearly four weeks) writing block on my novel, which I have to present to my group next week, so blogging may get short shrift for a while. It is HARD not to spend time blogging, because it goes so much faster than work on the novel.
My 19-month-old son Drake is up to fascinating stuff. Earlier in the week he climbed to the slide in the jungle gym by walking up the steps holding onto the rail, rather than by crawling. At home, he stood up while going down our front steps holding the rail, rather than waiting for my help.
Drake has a little dance of excitement, in which he stays in one place and hops his feet up and down and laughs. It is very like a Snoopy dance.
And during our readings of Edward Gorey’s The Epiplectic Bicycle, my husband G. Grod and I read the story, and Drake is able to say the word bubbles, like “Ho!” and “Whee!” Last week my husband G. Grod and I did a tag team reading of Bread and Jam for Frances, in which G. read the story and I sang the songs (for all of which I’ve made up tunes.) The three of us enjoyed that reading very much.