house ... shelter

I'm thinking about writing ... .  Probably less because I actually have a desire to write a book and more because my husband thinks I should ... try ... to.  I think he has glanced at this blog and decided that I have a "passion" for writing.  The only story I can think of to write is one I don't want to tell.  H says that's probably the one I need to write.  This is exactly why I didn't become a performance major in college ... I don't like the way it feels to expose myself.  I don't like the idea of opening the doors to my soul to ... well, pretty much anyone.  Each of us is like a house with many rooms ... I prefer to keep visitors in the very front of the house ... the entertaining rooms.

There is actually quite a bit of work left to do in the house and in the yards.  I could easily spend entire days doing basic house management stuff and the extra things that really need to be done.  Weeds grow in the cracks of the sidewalk ... .
I also am being asked to paint murals in the children's section at my church ... that would be a huge commitment ... probably half a day for several months ... seriously.  This morning I received a third request on that.  All three have expressed entirely different ideas about what it should look like, how extensive it should be ... I'm thinking we have a surplus of chiefs.  I have told each person that I will be delighted to help, but I don't want to start off drawing on the walls until there is a consensus on what best meets the needs of the church.

I do want to stretch towards writing, but I am afraid.  I am afraid of a lot of different things around it.  Apparently I am more of a fraidy-cat then I imagined myself to be.

I need a couple of days to get over the summer.
I need a little breathing room.
I'm trying to think about some stuff, and that takes time.  Ha ... I haven't even figured out a methodology for thinking about my little thinking thing yet!