Gretch is out with her mom tonight ,so I am lazing around trying to recover from many hours playing football, basketball, volleyball, and walking through the burbs with the kids today. I think as the boys grow they will help keep me in shape, if only for the fact that I have to keep up with them. I can't, for the life of me, throw a football with a spiral and I am obsessed with this!!!
The boys and I are also obsessed with the Tour De France. Go Lance!
Anyway, I was going through one of my favorite biographies in my library, Name All the Animals, by Alison Smith. I was trying to figure out
just how much one writes about certain experiences. I mean, well, authors have to deal with sex in there novels, but to what extent. It can't be boring, but, on the other hand I am going for tasteful.
I know my writings are lacking in flavor and of course dialogue. I will leave that for NaNoWrimo in November. This stream of bad writing is basically for myself. Experimental at best.
I'm so tired, I can't even think anymore. To much weekend, to many damn fireworks in this subdivision until very late at night. Ugh!