I wrote an entire blog, a long one, only to be interrupted so many times that Blogger gave up on me and logged me out. I lost the whole thing.

Now I'm aggravated, or "aggervated," as my son would say. "You aggervate me," he often mutters with a scowl.

The blog had been about how this fall has been so strange; I've felt like I'm living each day in a blur, yet I'm not rushing. Is it possible to live a slow-motion blur with tons of activity? It sounds like a big contradiction, but that's how it feels at the end of the day. I'm speeding through a series of activities in a slow-motion blur. I blink, and the end of the day is here. I drop into the abyss of forgotten-dream-sleep, only to yank myself awake and live another day just like it, in that Twilight Zone blur. When I actually inventory my activities, I find that there weren't too many. Why did I feel so rushed and stressed?

Part of the problem may be a legitimate external addition to our lives--a puppy! The husky didn't work out, as he never warmed up to our youngest child, the one who is often aggervated. The group that fostered him found a great fit, a family with only one, older girl. The dog was thrilled, the family was thrilled, and we were thrilled for the husky. The only problem is that we were left dog-less.

Our experience with his fur demonstrated that we were tolerant of the husky coat (our allergies were tolerant, that is). So we ended up finding a little mixed breed pup whose mom was a purebred Golden Retriever (arguably one of the best family dogs) and whose dad was an unknown drifter with what appears to be some husky traits. Our pup has some husky markings, and some of the litter had blue eyes. It's a guess, but a pretty good one, I think. Our allergies seem fine with his coat, so we've got a keeper.

He's got a great personality, but he is a puppy. Thus, we have puppy stuff going on, like the dreaded housetraining. I have to admit, it's a challenge at times. But we're learning, he's learning, and I think we're getting there. This chaos can't be the sole explanation for this blurry existence, however.

I think I discovered my problem even as I was writing the lost blog. I think the problem is that there is a disconnect--my outer life and inner life aren't in sync. I believe it is a problem of reflection, or lack thereof. I haven't taken the time to reflect on any of my days, on any conversations (except one with the mayor, which I'll tell you about in another blog), activities, thoughts, or problems. I haven't written in a journal for some time; I haven't sat alone.

As I've landed on this possible explanation, I sigh. Why do I have to be reminded of the same things over and over?

I think I need to re-read Ken Gire's book The Reflective Life: http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/tg/detail/-/1564767264/qid=1127759024/sr=8-1/ref=pd_bbs_1/104-7695320-7510324?v=glance&s=books&n=507846

In the meantime, I have to feel my way through my blurry day, cleaning up the occasional puppy puddle, folding the unending laundry, picking up two kids, dropping off a third, stopping by the store, and so on, until I carve out a pocket of time to reflect.