I woke up again at 2:30 this morning. I tried half-heartedly to go back to sleep, but so much was left undone yesterday that I decided to get up and start the day. I love being up early in a sleeping house. I love the time for mental puttering. I struggle mightily to be present for Asa when he’s up and about. I want to be engaged with him — not necessarily playing with him (because, God help me, I don’t like playing with Legos) — but not trying to immerse myself in something else entirely either. I feel pretty guilty wordsmithing a blog post when he’s awake and looking for my attention.
In any event, it was easy to ditch the sleep this morning for the four hours of free time. I know I need the sleep. But, as a card-carrying introvert, I need the recharge time. So I’m sitting here at the dining room table now with a cup of coffee, a couple of half-made lists, a few different books and some web pages open in front of me — darn happy.
I read the article Dakota Jones wrote on iRunFar about the environmental impact of ultrarunning — and all the commentary. I read Jill Homer’s response and looked around her blog a bit. And the whole thing left me thinking about writing. And good writing. (That’s right, this Leave No Trace Master Educator and National Outdoor Leadership School instructor was left thinking about writing, not carbon footprints. I blame the 3 year-old.) And then I came across How To Write A Sentence: And How To Read One by Stanley Fish. And I ordered it. (Early birthday present, Eliot.) (Another one.) There’s an excerpt here. It’s lovely. Strange what draws us in or provokes us most at different points in our lives — the environment, Legos… syntax. Turn! Turn! Turn!