While away last week, I managed to get some writing done. Being stuck in an airport was quite helpful. This week is another story.
On Monday, Phill suggested an evening hike, the type we used to do when we were childless or with just one child. He'd leave work early so that all of us (the two dogs had to go) could get in 3-7 miles of hiking in before the late summer sunset. We only got caught in the dark once in about forty hikes.
Hiking with children, ages 5 to 1, is always less than you want it to be, but we manage. We chose the Big Meadows area in Shenandoah National Park. We followed our five year old along game trails while our White Dragon slobbered after deer, who are relatively tame and rarely bound away. Because we started so late and enjoyed a longer drive home than necessary, I was too tired to write.
Tuesday evening, my reason for not writing was the attack of the toddler. For whatever mystery reason, he could not remain asleep unless he was touching me. I relented, probably because I was still worn thin by the conference. While I had managed to write for three quarters of an hour, the time was not enough to get all the thoughts out of my head.
Yesterday was also useless for writing time. Family, that all important family, had priority. Will I write tonight? Hopefully, if my butt can handle it.