I don't know what you're talking about. I don't see anything.

I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t see anything.

Have you noticed something odd about me lately?

Good. Wait. Bad. Aw. Heck. Me, too.

1. I haven’t posted much lately (which the busiest among you may be thanking me for), but it is strange for me to be so silent over here at my blog. Golly, it’s called Lorna’s Voice and not much piping up has been going on around here.

2. I haven’t been visiting your blogs and leaving my witty, insightful, encouraging, supportive, weisenheiming “likes” and comments. What’s up with that?

Being prone to self-reflection because I am so wise and I have many mirrors, I have given my recent blog-aversion plenty of thought. Here are my theories:

1. I’m past my blogging prime.

Gimme another double espresso cut with French Vanilla Ensure and I'm good to blog for another 2 hours.

Gimme another double espresso cut with French Vanilla Ensure and I’m good to blog for another 2 hours.

I’ve reached that time in a blogger’s natural life cycle when it’s simply time to step aside and let the younger generation take over.

They have the energy and the new ideas. They can keep up with the new-fangled innovations. They look forward instead of constantly being reminiscent of the “good old days” when WP didn’t have so many options or stats to bamboozle our feeble minds.

WP just sent me a 2 year anniversary notice. That’s like 40 years in blog years (1 blog year = 20 human years) or 5.7 dog years (1 dog year = 7 human years). Check the math if you want, young whipper-snappers, I used my smart-phone calculator and, as the name suggests, they are never wrong.

Uh, too old? Get the old farty-pants outta here. Have you looked at me lately? The only thing I’m too old for is to get the student discount at the movies, Buster. There’s enough room in the blogity-blogverse for everyone. So, Young Rangers (and by “young” I mean “anyone 10 years younger than me,” which includes a crap-basket full of people), don’t be counting me out yet just because I went silent.

2. I’ve run out of ideas for posts and I’m just too ashamed to admit it to you.

I bet you can't wait to hear my spoof on this one...

I bet you can’t wait to hear my spoof on this one…

Ha! The idea is laughable. Absurd!

I’m not too ashamed to admit anything! Have you read this blog? Have you read my book (and if not, why the heck not?)??

You are aware that I’m obsessed over my dog’s pooping patterns, farted in church, and that I once got stuck in a dress, right? Too ashamed, yeah right.

And just for the record, I have tons  piles  lists  a list   a few really great ideas just waiting to be released to you. I just have to meter them out. I don’t want you to get in trouble at work or home from all that snickering at the computer–people will wonder about you.

3. I’m practicing the Buddhist path of renunciation.

In case you needed as example of renunciation. This, of course is impermanent, as all things in life are. So don't get all huffy.

An example of renunciation. This, of course, is impermanent, as are all things in life. So don’t get all huffy.

I am. I’ve already let go of many material and immaterial things in my life. The immaterial things were easier.

Cancel that.

I should have said the tangible and intangible. The tangible things were easier. Like the “Broken House” and the stuff inside of it. Feelings and my sense of self–not so easy to let go of. Especially as they relate to, say, success and failure.

By no conscious intention, I renounced my computer a week ago. That means I renounced my connection to email and blogging. I really didn’t intend to. I just did. I also stopped working on my new book. Instead I took long walks in nature and did a lot of quilting–not at the same time. That would’ve been awful. I also did a lot of thinking about all this computer letting go stuff.

Then I had to let go of all the thinking about all the letting go.

Buddhism is simple, except when you make it complicated.

4. Working on my new novel is messing with my zany voice.

I open my mouth and nothing comes out...well, except this suppressed urge to go lingerie shopping (and not for my wife).

I open my mouth and nothing comes out…well, except this suppressed urge to go lingerie shopping (before I meet the guys for some brews at the old watering hole, wink, wink).

I may be blonde and dizzy, but I’m not dumb. I know why you come to my blog. You come to get a smile.

But my new novel is anything but about smiles. Sure, there are a few light moments in it, but it’s a very serious book. So I am living with somber plots and decidedly unfunny characters in my head. To move forward with this project, I can’t shoo them out at will and turn on “Zany Lorna” to write the kind of silly blog post you’ve come to expect.

So I’ve developed a serious case of what I’m calling “writer’s laryngitis.” It’s not a block. My wacky ideas and voice are still there, but I’m suppressing them so that a weighty, steadfast voice can emerge from me.

My brain seems incapable of multitasking. It only does one thing at a time.

That’s not true. It does more than one thing. It keeps my dizziness under control enough so I can function as “normal” as “normal” gets plus I can do one other task pretty well: blog OR write OR quilt OR drive OR watch TV OR read. There are few “ands” in my life.

So I must choose.

Buddhism has taught me the Middle Way: balance, always a trick for this dizzy gal.

I must write this book for my mother, who will be 80 this year. I’m dedicating this book to her and I want her to live to read the dedication (and book) in print. I wish I could whip out a book in a year, but I’m a slow writer. It takes me the better part of a day to write a blog post.

Please don’t take my absence personally. I care about all of you and will visit you when I need a break from my writing. I will even post periodically. But just like a person with laryngitis of the throat, Lorna’s Voice needs to take it easy for a while.

A ha! That's my problem. I need a speedier steed. But, didn't I hear that "slow and steady" can also win a race? I hope so.

A ha! That’s my problem. I need a speedier steed. But, didn’t I hear that “slow and steady” can also win a race? I hope so.