here we are... writing...

“Oh my… there is so much in Typist’s mind right now!” Thalia watched diamonds in shades from violet to red dance. Kites appeared and disappeared from view at whim… the tiniest little puff of a breeze and poof! Gone. The ones that stayed framed in center though… they demanded attention.

Look at me! Write about me!… demanding little diamonds.

“Ummm… ,” the Muse of Many Questions squeaked, “… aren’t WE in Typist’s mind?”

Urania sighed, “Yes, of course we are. We ride the backs of thoroughbreds and lasso her thoughts and ideas, shaping them into something worthy of sharing… no small feat. How’d we get this job anyhow?”

“We applied, Silly. Don’t you remember? We thought it’d be a nice challenge after centuries of lounging and eating bonbons.” Thalia ran her hands along her slimming waist and twirled her poodle skirt. Kites fluttered.

“You have some catching up to do,” Calliope raised her brows. “Poodle skirts are out.”

“Speaking of catching up… Let’s do that… let’s share a few of those demanding diamonds with our readers so that we can make some space. It’s really crowded in here.” Urania stretched her legs and kicked a lime green kite out of view. “How about… each of us shares one thing… Calliope you go first.”

“Who put you in charge? And why do I have to go first?”

Thalia offered a re-frame, “Calliope, You GET… get, get, get… to go first.” Words matter, she thought to herself.

“You’re right… thanks. I have a question… when is she going to stop multi-tasking? Can’t she see how much energy she wastes when she responds to every ding, bell, email, text, and WhatsApp message?” Calliope took a bow.

Urania and Thalia nodded in agreement.

“I’d like to share our experience from last Saturday… we visited Zachariah’s Acres… a space where disabled kids can fish, garden, tend bees… and trees. While Typist’s better half ran 13 miles, Typist met the man who created the place… and several other really fascinating people. Zelda came all the way from Maryland to run the half-marathon and Maria, who was visiting from El Paso, held a pom-pom and a cowbell to cheer her son-in-law.” Thalia waved an invisible pom-pom.

“Thirteen miles… sheer nonsense.” Calliope collapsed into a chair. “But… to each his own. I am a learner, not a judge.”

“My turn,” said Urania. “The rat. Ratatouille. Typist can’t stop thinking about the rat who pursued his passion for chefery… yes, I made that word up… was that Grace? As referenced in John 4:14? Was chefery the rat’s water… from God? And because he drank of it, he prepared a meal that shifted the harshest of critics?”

“Ahhh… ,” the Muses sighed and stretched. “Much better.”

Hey All! It is the most wonderful time of year in my garden.

Rough draft of Meandering Muses is complete and patiently waiting for me to review it. I’m a little afraid… sometimes the Muses confuse me. 😬 I surely do not want them to confuse you. 😂

I participated in a Virtual Book Tour on Sunday with my friends Chris, Peter, and Diana. It’s available here. Being seen still feels uncomfortable to me. I prefer hiding behind the keyboard and the Muses.

Hope you all are well. I can see the Muses are anxious to keep reporting on kite sightings. I expect you’ll be seeing more of us in your inboxes again. My (Their) Grace? What’s yours?

G