alter-ego blara (and other such ramblings).

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After an incredibly intense afternoon of playing with the Christmas tree stand in the backyard, Blara, Cara’s alter-ego, happens to catch up with her… 

Cara, where have you been the past couple of days? 

“Oh, you know, just chillin’ out maxin’, relaxin’ all cool, just shootin’ some b-ball outside of the school.  You know, the usual.”

But seriously, you haven’t written anything for TWO whole days!  I mean, there are connections to be made and content worth publishing – people to meet and places to go and things to do!  Get on it, girl! 

“It’s a mystery, it really is – but when your kid is holed up with the flu, and suddenly, miraculously feels better (and doesn’t sleep 5/6 of the day), and this bright yellow ball in the sky comes out to play, for the LOVE I just can’t sit down with eyes glued to the laptop.”

Yeah, but you call yourself a writer – doesn’t a writer write?  

“A writer writes and a writer reads.  A writer thinks and a writer breathes.  And sometimes, a writer just lets herself be, giving those many thoughts swirling around in her head time and space and room to ruminate.”

Ruminate: good word.  Preach it!  

“You’re welcome.  I’m working on my verbs.  Any other pending questions you want answered for the studio audience?”

Not at all.  You solved the mystery at hand, and we, your faithful followers, are ever-so-grateful.  

“All righty, then.  Be kind, and don’t forget to rewind!”

Love love,

Cara, Cancan, Blara and the Christmas tree stand that still sits in the backyard. In March.

What about you?  I mean, really, would you have wasted your time publishing 292 words just to remind your readers that you haven’t fallen off the face of the earth?  Hugs and kisses, indeed.

5 thoughts on “alter-ego blara (and other such ramblings).

  1. Not a single one of those 292 words was wasted, Cara. I’ve posted a couple things this week that I think could have gone unwritten, but I put them up anyway and let them fly. Oh well.

    Glad you got to enjoy the kiddo in the sunshine!

    1. Phew. I say we post away, my friend. Nothing is wasted, and we are our own worst critics. And who are we writing for anyway? PS: I am still musing over your Driscoll (ahem…) parable!

      Cara Meredith

      be, mama. be.

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