daily bliss: NaBloPoMo

lilacs, rolling farmland, and cerulean seas in Kewaunee


Bon Jour, mes amies!

I'm unraveling the sleepiness this morning with a mug of crappy cafe au lait (old coffee beans = off flavors), a lightly toasted *homemade* cinnamon bagel (still gloating:), and a glass of orange juice. I'm shaking off the tiredness brought on by too many tiny bubbles with friends last night, and my return home at 7:30 a.m. this morning, not wanting to drive the 10 blocks home floating on aforementioned ebullience of 12:30 a.m. A good night's sleep in a comfy bed in the guest room, and delighted hugs from their nearly four year old son M this morning made for a perfect ending to a fun evening.

Despite the haziness, I'm thinking of inspiration this morning, having just checked in with Revisionista and Marelisa. I'm thinking of the freshness and possibility of a new month, just waiting to be filled with...something(s). What will be *my* recipe for June? How shall I "suck the marrow" out of life this month? Stay tuned for those answers...

My friend G inspired me to take up the challenge of NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month) a spin-off of NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month), which I've attempted (and failed) before. Somehow, NaBloPoMo seems much more realistic and do-able: one blog post for each day of the month. I've nearly accomplished this posting rate when I began the daily bliss feature earlier this year. The added rigor of *declaring* my intention to blog daily during June provides just the creative structure I need.

And for now, it's time to make the most of this morning. I'm thinking of Thoreau, who writes, "The morning, which is the most memorable season of the day, is the awakening hour. Then there is the least somnolence in us; and for an hour, at least, some part of us awakes which slumbers all the rest of the day and night" (Walden). (clearly good ol' Henry never had too much sparkling wine:) And yet, his words inspire me to make this morning matter. It's time to dig my hands into the dirt and plant flowers. To drink in the cool morning air and shake the somnolence away. And then, to strive for that awakeness that allows us to "make [our] lives, even in [their] details, worthy of the contemplation of [our] most elevated and critical hour" (Thoreau, Walden).