Friday, January 21, 2011


Our dog has an overnight guest. We're watching my sister's dog for a couple days.

Emma is a tolerant hostess. But her territory has been compromised and she's a bit put out.

She is not allowed on the furniture. But Tucker balks at the idea of laying in Emma's bed (how it must smell to him!) and his face reads displaced and I feel sorry for him so I let him up on the couch. Emma looks at him and then at me. If she could speak she'd surely pout -- not fair.


I'm the floor, halfway through my 20 sit-ups (Another resolution! That I'm keeping!) Girl-three laughs and runs over in her slightly awkward, slightly fast way. She sits on my stomach. This certainly makes things harder. Her grin is mischievous, a flag staking her claim.

Mama, can you hold me? Girl-two is a snuggler. I sit up and she settles in. Girl-three has no words for this but she's determined to maintain her space. Her insistence speaks -- not fair.


It's 10pm. You know it's always 10pm. I add one little sentence to my novel -- the scene is creeping along. But it moves. It's like molasses but it moves.

I click the program's X and right away start gentling my muse. She rails against my touch and boils everything to the surface without using the words -- not fair. 

Hush, I tell her. You have to share.