Process

Did you ever notice that children can see or hear something, not react at all, almost as if they'd never seen or heard, then start discussing that something three months later? Clearly, they are processing, making sense of what they heard or saw, and it is only months later that they can articulate their reaction.
 
I have found that this is not a phenomenon only for children.  As I sit down to write a post every day, I often think that a topic will be obvious.  It will come from a conversation or an observation or a significant event from the day.  Yet, as I sit down, sometimes those things overwhelm me.  Just because you've had a revelation doesn't mean you've had a chance to process it, particularly to process it enough to write several hundred witty words about it.  So, like a child, you focus on other things, as if the revelation had never occurred.
 
The result of my need to process could have been a post today about buses or running or band concerts or the cold. But since I've covered most of those areas before, and, by golly, I'm not using this blog to talk about the weather, what you're getting is a glimpse both into my process and into my processing.  These days, as I straddle the worlds of work and motherhood and transportation coordination, a tremendous amount of information comes in daily.  While at some point, the conversations I've had these last few days may provide hugely insightful blog content, they're still in the processor. And when I least expect it, I'll just start discussing them. (Hopefully not like a young child bringing up a dead relative while standing in a grocery store checkout line). 
 
So, in the words of those very wise (or just wise-sounding) deep-voiced soap opera announcers, stay tuned, and probably not just till tomorrow, to see where my process--and my processing--will take me.