Writing is my passion, my release, my salve. If I could find a way for it to pay the bills, I would. However, if that were the case there would be no such use for the term “starving artist.” Actually, I have never fancied myself to be artistic. I can’t sing, paint, draw or manage to create anything crafty beyond the 2nd grade level. I guess I’ve discounted writing as art, my brain housing only one definition of artistic and writing wasn’t in the small print. It is time for that definition to change.

When I was little and unbound by my definitions, I used to be very creative. I would make collages, I would build houses filled with happy people out of construction paper and old shoeboxes. I would marvel at my handiwork. I would spend hours hunched over a desk, no use for a clock, creating. As I grew, I looked around and saw that others were better than me at drawing, creating tangible art. I assumed that meant I wasn’t artistic or destined to be creative. I put down my markers, my colorful paper. I spent the next twenty years, hidden away in other peoples creative visions – books. I was friends with librarians, I would read 50 books a year. I learned to love words and how they can be spun together like wool to make a story that covers you, if only for a moment.

I would hide my visions away in notebooks meant for my eyes only. I called them journals and I wrote to no audience in particular. Fiction wasn’t for me, the story was always the same. Telling life as I see it, looking for the turquoise blue in my hands full of  life’s sea glass, that came natural. Still, until I started this blog, it was only for me and I often judged the quality of the words before they spilled onto the paper.

Yet, when I think about what has always driven me, what has always inspired me and filled my soul, the answer falls like silver coins from a slot machine and fills the floor around me: write. There is art in words. I am an artist.

Well, I would write more but I can’t seem to unclasp one or both children from my ankle long enough to have a significant thought, let alone put it in writing. Being at home all day with the children is definitely a mental and physical challenge that leaves me longing for adult interaction and some time for myself. Seriously, I can’t even go to the bathroom without a child witnessing the act.

In other news, we have been frequenting the beach quite a bit. It has been really fun. I don’t particularly like all of the sand in my car and on my floor but I suppose it is worth it. On most days we take the BOB stroller and go for a run on Scenic all the way to the Carmel River State Park sign and back (about 3 miles) and then we stop and play in the waves for a while. Isaac loves this particular outing – I think he shares my awe of the ocean and he seems to be absolutely joyful there. Also, the Carmel beach is famous for all of the dogs on the beach, which Isaac adores. He runs and chases the dogs and he has even made a friend with a labradoodle named Gracie. She seems to be there everytime we are and she is really cute. Joshua is okay with her as long as I am holding him – I think her size is intimidating to my little Peanut.

Thankfully the beach wears the kiddos out and they take good naps upon return, which means I have had some time to read. I think that reading is my favorite thing, I love to get lost in a character and become a part of another world for a while. However, lately I keep thinking about writing a book so as I read I try to figure out if I like the author’s style or if I could write something similar. I have taken a few shots at fiction – none that I have posted here for fear of rejection – I just don’t think I am cut out for fiction. My imagination isn’t thick enough. I honestly think that a fiction writer’s brain must have another layer of curiousity that mine just does not posses. That plus the fact that my life is crazy enough to be fiction makes me think that I should stick to writing about that, or maybe my family history.

Kevin has been working like crazy since we’ve been here. On most days he leaves around 7:15 in the morning and doesn’t get home until after 6pm. Tonight he won’t be home until 9pm or so because he has a City Council meeting. On these days, I struggle to come up with enough activities to keep the kids entertained all day and evening before bedtime. I know that Kevin is transitioning to a new job and working hard because he wants to do well, so I guess this is just the way things are for now. I think if I had some friends here to do stuff with it might be a little easier to make it through some of these long days. I met some people a few weekends ago but all of us have little kids and lives are busy so we haven’t hung out. I know that friends and social outings will come with time, I am just not one for patience.

Isaac starts summer camp next week at St. Dunstans pre-school. He will be going half days for two weeks and then he takes a break from St. Dunstans for a month before actual pre-school starts at the end of August. During the break he and Joshua will be going to a home day care in Salinas since I will be working by then. I am worried about Isaac not liking the home day care since he likes a lot of interaction. However, there is not much else I can do since St. Dunstans has a break for most of August. The school situation is so different here. I loved the school the boys were at in Turlock, it was open all but about 15 days a year and the teachers were awesome. Here, there is a lot more varience in schedules that will be a little challenging for a working mom.

Speaking of working, I start on the 28th, a mere two weeks away. I can’t belive that this time has gone so fast. On my last day of work in Turlock my new job here seemed a little less than real. Yet, as with anything in life the time flew by and now another transition is upon me. I have to say that I have some trepidation about the new job. I was warned ahead of time about office politics and issues between the women in the office. I can’t stand that kind of crap and sometimes in my attempt to stay out of it, I come off as being “above it.” Which I think can make my cause worse when it comes to fitting in. However, I personally believe that women can be their own worst enemies when it comes to promotion in the workplace because of drama. Men don’t get involved in the drama and women just look petty when they do. Anyway, enough on that. I will let you know if the rumors are true about the office politics, maybe I will be pleasantly surprised when I get there. Besides, I am not sure that any workplace could be worse as far as office politics, as the one I spent the last seven years. So, it would take a lot to surprise or offend me.

Well, there is a baby crying which is my cue to go…The next post will have some pictures of my friend Rebecca’s visit. Our kids had way too much fun together and I got some great shots.