{What is all the calamity about?}

{Farm Life} ....... {Art} ...... {Learning} ...... {Motherhood} ......{The Story of Us}

"For the love of Pete....


The words echoed through the receiver. During the last hour I had heard this question maybe a hundred times. It was Miriam, assaulting me with this, her current lament. I stared at the phone. "Ugh, I can't," came my pathetic whine, "nobody's reading anyway, why bother?"

Miriam isn't one to beat around the bush, "You have to actually
write something in order for people to read it."

I sighed loudly into my phone, "I don't have anything to write about." To which Miriam regaled me with a plethora of bloggy good ideas.

"Ugh!" I sighed again.

The day before had found me staring at the computer screen for 3 hours. Not a single sentence came to me. The words evaded my grasp. They swirled and swirled, jumbled and blurry, about my head.

"Why don't you write about getting your orange belt for Tae Kwon Do?" she asked. Innocent enough, I could do that. Right?

"But, I don't have my picture program on the computer yet. I want to add pictures. Don't you think it would be better with pictures?" I whined hopefully into the cell.

"Hmm," she said, not willing to give up so easily. "Hey!.....Did your dog die?"

"Whaaaatt!!" pitching my voice high, "Seriously. What are you talking about?"

Speaking slowly, she replies "Is. Your. Dog. Alive?"

"Weeeell, I think so. Lemme check. Umm, yeah, I think I see him. Why??" I asked almost not wanting an answer.

"Oh, no reason. Will you.. JUST! BLOG!!" she hollered at me.

OK, so it was becoming painfully obvious that my lack of blogging was causing undue stress in my faithful friends' life. I still had no clue what to write.

Out of ideas and probably just bored with me, Miriam bid me farewell and told me again to blog, "something, anything". I sighed an agreement that yes, I would blog. I snapped the phone shut and flopped down in front of the computer.

Heaving a sigh, I closed my eyes.

My thoughts started jumping; words fighting for freedom. Who would go first? What story would garner the right to adorn the pages of Katie's Calamities?

And still nothing.

What do you think, dear reader, should I wax poetic? Wane pathetic? Bemoan incessantly? Spew haphazardly? Flit capriciously? Or, pontificate eloquently?


  1. She's ALIVE!!! Thank God, Girl... I was worried that the computer virus had attacked it's user! =| Now that IS a scary thought! It's great to have you at the BLOG wheel again... many thanks to Miriam xxoo!! {ps: I check on ya everyday... put it in drive Baby - let's rock n roll!}


  2. my dear friend (Whom I've not called back only because, unless you want a call at 7 in the morning- my time, or midnight... I haven't had a chance.) I check your blog EVERY DAY! sometimes my reader fails, and so there are a select number of important ones that i physically check EVERY DAY...
    So, I'm glad you blogged already.
    How are you?

  3. i wanna know why Miriam wants to know if you dog died...

  4. Well, it's about dang time. You could always write about getting an award from me? Hello? Don't you go making me wanna take it back! LOL

    Whatever you decide, just leave out the waxing, waning and bemoaning... :)

  5. Hello Girls! It is so good to be back!

    Thanks for checking in on me..everyday.

    I think she was just trying to snap me out of my funk.

    Call me!

    I am going over to gather up my awards right now!! :D

  6. I so totally understand (as you well know). I'm sitting here right now wondering if anyone is interested in my traffic violation woes.

    Glad to read you again. I was thinking "Man, she really is having computer problems. I need to send Nacho over right away to fix it!"

  7. Um, am I really that pushy? It was for your own good! I mean, your readers' own good. Or the greater good.

    Thanks for blogging. Phew.

  8. lets see- passed rigors of advance belt testing for Tae Kwon Do, survived demise of space aged washing machine AND eighteen trips you can;t afford into town to have it fixed, playdates for the kids at Gram's and your husband has been hijacked and replaced by someone who dresses like a tree and washes his clothes with dirt scented detergent.

    Yah- there just nothing to blog about


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