a lot of nothing

I'm in one of those rare moods where I want to be creative. And not the kind of creativity that I use every day in keeping LB happy and entertained. The kind of creativity I used to have, where it would bleed out of me, or be yanked out of me by Disurbed, Stabbing Westward or Finger Eleven. But there's a little bambino climbing up the back of my chair, so it all gets quashed again. I'm not bitter about this--I'd never choose anything else over LB. But sometimes I miss how I was. Often.

She just dragged one of her little books over to one of our big bookshelves and is standing, holding her book and the bookshelf. I hope she loves books the way I do.

Time to play. No time for art.