The heat is coming in thick, heavy waves. This morning�s wave arrived early, so that by the time I�d finished watering the planters on the front porch, there was already a steady stream of sweat between my shoulder blads.

AJ is going on a pretend fishing trip with his summer camp today, catching colorful pretend fish with poles baited with magnets. They will catch them and throw them back.

I�ve been feeling like I�ve been catching the same fish and throwing them back for a couple of weeks now, standing here on the same treadmill, looking at the same scenery and wondering where, if anywhere, my effort has got me. Sometimes I am struck by the miraculous of the every day: the flowers that open every morning, the boy who sings from his bed, �It�s a beautiful day,� no matter what the weather. And sometimes I feel more like a �turtle on a wheel,� to quote AJ�s mishearing of a Fountains of Wayne song. I�ve definitely been more of a turtle lately, in more ways than one.

In the yoga studio last night, there was talk of breathing in peace and exhaling all of the toxic things we tell ourselves. "If it is negative, let it go." But all the while, my inner child was shrieking, "But what if the negative things are true? What good does it do to let go of the truth and inhale lies?"

I bailed out on the open mike this weekend. The rehearsal time was ever shrinking and I�m not in the mood to improvise in front of strangers. We�ll try again some other time when everyone�s feeling calmer. I�d also feel better if my husband were more involved � it is his friend, after all. But we will go and cheer and have a night out.

I need to snap out of my writers blocky malaise. Perhaps it�s my impending birthday which will initiate the end of a decade. It was ten years ago that I spent the summer with RS in Brooklyn, drinking a lot of coffee and embarking on the project that I am now trying to complete. It�s feeling like it�s never going to be done. Perhaps that�s why, when listening to the fabulous Seeger Sessions CD that RS sent me a couple of days ago that I started to cry while listening to �Eyes on the Prize.� This needs to be over and I need to end it. That empty conclusions page needs to be filled. Eyes on the prize, baby. Eyes on the prize.

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