Pings and Pebbles

pingPity poor MomBrain. The little thought pebbles rolling around in her head are starting to echo and ping off the inside of her skull. Even the Dog is startled, less by the pinging and more by the fact that we’re starting to speak the same language. For example:

The Dog thinks about: food, walk, food, walk, food, walk, food.

MomBrain thinks about: food, walk, food, walk, food, walk, food.

Dr. Science (the Scientist Formerly Known as Big Guy) thinks about: baseball, brains, Chuck, damn politicians, Nick Hornby, coffee, Ben Webster, calamities that might swallow the earth.

Clearly it’s time to refill my skull; to reinvent (if not reclaim) my life. So. With resolution and beating heart, MomBrain tried to register for a writing workshop at the ridiculously awesome Richard Hugo House. Except every other writer in My Fair City beat me to it. So I am on the waiting list, which means HA HA HA CHORTLE maybe next time. So I will look elsewhere to prep for NaNoWriMo and at the same time STOP THE PINGING PLEASE OH PLEASE ANYTHING TO STOP THE PINGING.

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