Never Tell Me You’re Bored

Raising four boys, born less than six years apart, left very little time for boredom. At least for me. Every so often, one of my young sons would come to me with that pitiful whine, “Mommy, I’m bored.” I quickly constructed a response… “Good, because I need someone to sweep out the garage.” That cured their boredom! You’ve never seen kids run the other way so fast.

Bored? Are you kidding me? Who has time to be bored? As you know from my last blog entry, I have many obsessions. My biggest complaint in life (yes, I know this makes me one lucky lady) is that I don’t have enough hours in a day to tackle all the books/activities/obsessions in my life. I’ve realized that everyone of us on this planet has the same number of minutes each day, and miraculously, some people seem to get so damn much accomplished (Martha Stewart, I’m talking ’bout you), and others…well not so much. We ALL have time for what’s important to us, e.g. facebook, watching sitcoms, or writing a prize winning novel.

But now I have a new obsession: French cooking.

My husband took me to Paris for my 48th birthday (where I took the lousy photo of this beautiful Modigliani painting). We had a fabulous time, and ate the most delicious food. I’m not much of a cook, but I am newly inspired to give Soupe à l’Oignon Gratinée (French onion soup) a shot, and Ragout de Champignons (mushroom ragout), and Croque-Monsieur sandwiches, and Confit avec Pruneaux et Pommes (Duck confit with prunes and apples). I think you get the picture. How am I going to squeeze this in with writing my novel Left on Blue? Ah, there’s the rub.

Time management. That’s the answer.

And motivation!

Look at this guy, for example. Is he the greatest real-life character you’ve ever seen? I have no idea who he is, or what his life is like, or what he’s listening to, or what’s in his backpack. Does he speak French or English or maybe German? He was at a cafe where my husband and I stopped for lunch after touring the Louvre. This guy makes me want to write and write and write.

And, so, dear friends, I’m back to my novel. Looks like I’m going to have to sleep less (that’s Martha Stewart’s solution) to squeeze everything in. I hope my neighbors understand when I start caramelizing onions in the middle of the night.

I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.

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