Spring is a Diva

This March, like every other March I suppose, I’m skeptical that Spring will make good on its promise to arrive. In fact, Spring seems to be turning into a bit of a diva, like a teenager who will only make an appearance when they're fashionably late. Spring has taunted us with flashes of green grass and Robin Red Breasts. But just when we’re putting the boots away… “Just kidding!” Spring pelts us with snow like a pie in the face before dashing off again.

Ah, Spring. You little tease.

If you are blessed to live in the southern part of Wisconsin or in another state altogether, (you lucky, lucky, bird) you won’t fully understand this blog. You might tell me to buck up. Quit my whining. But I can tell by the snow-encrusted driveways and sidewalks I pass along my hometown streets that I’m not alone in my grumblings. We’ve just plain given up on shoveling. You can come to my house for a visit but from here on out, it’s at your own risk. Maybe bring some salt.

To add insult to injury, my daughter’s favorite past time of late is making ice. Lots of it.  My refrigerator is lined with various sizes of cups of ice. As if there’s not enough outside. Of course just last week as she and her brother were home for “Spring Break”, (hilarious) she turned to me, adamantly and said, “You said we could get ice cream at Belts on Spring break.”

“No,” I corrected her. “I said we could go to Belts when it’s Spring, once the snow melts.”

She looked out the window in despair. I promised her we’d go in June. Or July at the very latest, but that we’d just have to wait. This made her angry. I told her I was sorry and asked her if she wanted to make more ice.

I’m not so good at this waiting thing either.

And yet waiting seems to make up such a big chunk of life. Seems like I’m always waiting for something, for the toast to pop or the light to change. And those are the small things. I've waited for big things too like waiting to finish high school, waiting to finish college, waiting to get married, to get pregnant, waiting to have the baby, for the baby to be potty trained…. You get the picture. It never ends.

There have been times when I’m simply in the moment, not trying to peek around the corner. I’m not waiting when I’m...

Screaming on a rollercoaster

holding a sleeping baby

utterly engrossed in a good book/movie

laughing hysterically

eating something overwhelmingly good

deep in conversation

I know Spring will come. It came last year, and the year before that and the year before that. So I’m not hopelessly waiting, I’m waiting with hope.

With my flip-flops on.

Never say never. I never do.

I did it. I bit the bullet. I’ve created a blog- something I’ve intentionally resisted for a while now. Like facebook. Like Texting. Like marrying a pastor. Like adopting. Like owning a dog. Like eating raw fish. All things I’ve now done and all things that have turned out to be good. Surprisingly good. Some, even extraordinary.

So why my resistance to having a blog?

Partly because Blogging lends itself to self- absorption. It’s all me, me, me. Yep. I said it. Now that I’ve offended half of you, please realize that I’m blogging these words. So. I guess that means I’m self-centered. I’ve had a sneaking suspicion of this for some time now. 

Secondly, as a writer, I’m apprehensive of putting anything in print that I haven’t wrestled with, rewritten, edited, and sweated over. And I just can’t- or won’t- commit to that kind of commitment with a blog. (then again this may end up being another example of never say never.)

So here’s how I’ve reconciled these reservations:

Self Absorbed? Yes, blogs can be. But they also have the potential of being expressive, engaging, helpful, uplifting, and sometimes even cathartic. (sometimes even for the reader.) As far as writing and posting something that might not be up to par in terms of its publish-ability, (case in point... I don’t even think that’s a word!) that may be a good thing. It might be liberating to free the ideas that float in and out of mind without worrying about word count and query letters.

On to the blog name. It stems from a personal fantasy in which Harper Lee and I are clicking chopsticks together over our Spicy California and Geisha rolls. We're sharing the same dish of soy sauce because we’re that close. In case you don’t know, but I’m sure you do, Harper Lee wrote this little novel called “To Kill a Mockingbird”. Have you read it? If you haven’t, go read it. If you haven’t read it since high school, go read it. If you read it and don’t like it, read it again. If you still don’t like it, you have my pity.

So in light of the free-spiritedness of the twenty-first century blog, my postings will be random. They will be sporadic. They may include book recommendations, or thoughts on writing in general, or possibilities for sushi rolls, or three in the morning insomnia induced ramblings or, if I’m brave enough, political musings. I just don’t know yet.

This is all new to me. Like texting was four weeks ago. Which, by the way, I can’t live without. I mean, how else in the world could I ask my hubby to pick up a Chicago roll on the way home?

Let the rambling begin.