Okay. Maybe the title of this blogpost isn't the most appealing you've ever heard. But it's what came to mind and I really need to discuss this.
This is what I call Writing Diarrhea. I am not writing poop nor am I writing about poop. The words are simply flowing out of me like, well...diarrhea. Without the pain and discomfort, of course. (I don't need to get really tacky and discuss aromas here, now, do I? Didn't think so.)
What I really, really, wish is that a money tree would sprout in my back yard with all the wonderful ponderosa pines and make the necessity for working vanish from my life. Poof! Independently Wealthy. Wouldn't that be nice?
I am going with this flow and enjoying it. Unfortunately, not much other than absolute necessities are getting accomplished at home. Good thing my husband is into grilling this time of year. And that we have a covered porch so he can do it in the goddamn rain, which is another thing that's been flowing like diarrhea around here.
Share your stories about Writing Diarrhea. (Or even how you're envious of it.)
P.S. The picture has nothing to do with the topic. It's just me and my oldest daughter...and Eska.