Thoughtfully, and quite obviously in a pursuit to persuade, last Christmas my mama gave me another charm for my Pandora bracelet.  I laughed aloud when I laid eyes on a silver clock that comically resembles the clock character from the Disney masterpiece Beauty and the Beast, which is, coincidently, her favorite flick and my 2^nd grade stocking stuffer.  It sat shiny and ominously in my jewelry box.  I knew without cue that this lovely gift was a small sterling reminder that I should be a more punctual young woman.  Today, nearly one year later and despite that cute clock on my right wrist bone, I still underestimate 15 minutes and am genuinely apologetic when I am tardy to your event – god bless that mama for trying though. 

Time and I have rarely played nice.  There’s either been too much of it or not enough; it’s the $1.99 app that underwhelms or the free advice you should deny even if you’re paid.  Either way, we’re never in the same zone.  As of late, my creativity has been challenged by time – my inescapable fault – and fear.  Talk about a conquering humdinger.  It’s been one year since I emotionally and vocally committed to launching my SMILFy blog – and beyond buying the domain and some unfinished, unpublished blogs, I am yet to show anything for it.  Truthfully, I believe in this blog.  I consider it a creative outlet for myself and a resource for other women like me; I even have faith in its brand power and fully intend on cultivating this concept (consider this a warning to those who may try to highjack this business opportunity).  All I have to do is take the first step, post the first blog.  But this step has transformed from visions of rainbow arches to thorny detours – there’s just always been an outside force that’s stronger than time to slow me down. 

I fear that launching this expressive blog/potential business may further anger my unpleasant counterpart, thereby flooding my life, as well as my new family’s life, with even more chaos and compromise.  Or worse yet, I fear I will proclaim this endeavor, but never be able to deliver because I wasn’t meant to be a SMILFy after all.  All the while, through all the contemplation, worrywart tendencies, and a collection of content inspiration, the SMILFy blog remains blank and the time on my wrist rests unchanged.