I’m not a morning person. I generally stay up past midnight and stay in bed past 9:00. This morning, Jack* woke me around 8:00 to ask if he could wear the pants he wore yesterday. Five minutes later, he woke me again to button his fancy dress shirt (“The only long-sleeve shirt in my closet!” — not true, but I wasn’t getting out of bed to prove him wrong). I wanted to stay in bed and enjoy more sleep, but five minutes later, I was on my feet, realizing that I wouldn’t be drifting off again anytime soon.
I spend most mornings praying and reading/writing/what-have-you, until my second cup of coffee has been drained. Today, I decided to copy out a poem (“Dowager” by John Montague) for the next page of my altered Book of Poetry. I foolishly chose to write the verse in pen and ink. After finally locating the supplies, I tried nib after nib, messing up nearly every word with blobs of ink or, conversely, being left with no evidence that my pen had been put to paper. Therefore, I got out one of my new Papermate Flair pens (LOVE THESE!) and finished the job. I then purposely added drops of ink and smudges to the paper to make it look intentionally messy (hey, sometimes you’ve just got to make lemonade).
But here’s the best, most satisfying part of my morning so far: I gathered up my two wooden pens, along with every single cheap, crappy, shoddy nib and chucked them all into the trashcan. (Breathe the free air!)
Someday, I will do my research, reach into my pocket for the cash and buy quality calligraphy supplies, but — as Aragorn once said — “it is not this day.” On this day, I need to breathe, start fresh and have some fun with the kids.
Oh, and here’s a peek at yesterday’s progress on the Book of Poetry.
*Later, when some of us were awake (but not Stella), Jack worked hard at being as loud as he possibly could be.