Sunday Morning

You might be asking yourself, "Hasn't she taken this picture before?"

Yes she has. And everywhere she looks she's thinking, "Haven't I already taken a picture of that?"

But she's glad to be home. Where everything looks familiar. Where she's already taken a picture of it.

And yes, she enjoyed her week away from home. Endless hours on the beach. Four generations of family. Friendly adjacent campers. Three meals a day al fresco. Sleeping with her kids.

Perhaps the strangest highlight of her vacation: there were no fruits or vegetables to can at camp.

But now that she's home the green beans and peppers are ready to take a long, hot bath in salt, vinegar, and garlic.

She's got a lot of windows open. Around the house and on the laptop. Canning recipes. Movie showtimes (has anybody seen Captain America?). Emails to answer. Photos to upload (would anybody mind seeing more vacation pics?).

The question on her mind this morning, besides whether or not to ride her bike to the store to buy pickling salt, is: Why does writing matter? Patricia's homeschool convention workshop has got her thinking. Wondering. How can she find more time to write? What does she want to write about? Can she change lives with her words?

She'll have plenty of time to consider all of these things and more while toiling over a boiling pot of water this morning. And maybe she'll even escape her thoughts and her hot kitchen later this afternoon. Sit in an air conditioned movie theater. Be entertained by somebody else's writing. Where she'll probably wonder if just maybe someday the book of her dreams might be adapted to the big screen.

If a girl is going to dream, she might as well dream big. And if a girl is going to can, she better get off the computer and get started before it gets too hot.