Writer's block...or maybe it's fleas....

In any case, there are several subjects I've been mulling over in my mind and my outward life has been busy enough to fill several journal entries, yet when I sit down to write these days, a sense of depletion settles over me and no words flow through my fingers onto the keys.

It's an unusual situation, because I am perpetually verbal about everything. I've been teased and criticized for it all my life. Yet when I fall silent because I want to ruminate or just rest, my nearest and dearest ask, "What's wrong?" They question, "Do you feel all right? Is there anything I can get you? Do you want...?

It would be too ungracious to take the questions unkindly as interfering or nosy, so I rouse myself to conversation for a bit, then lapse back into contemplation when life deigns to leave me alone. There are so few quiet, unassuming minutes right now and life seems too eager to fill them up with stuff: bills, doctors' appointments, work, errands, and on and on.

Jasmine is a pleasure for company. She never does more than greet me tail waving in the air, nose snuffling my hand or elbow and then settling down at my side to share whatever the universe has in store for us now. She knows how to be a companion without being company that needs to be entertained, amused, or informed.

Good dog.