This post is written as part of an experiment between Chris Elizabeth Griffith and myself to prove that you CAN blog about anything! You can see Chris' post here. I have already admitted defeat, as her post made me laugh so much! Chris, I just needed that laugh today! I thank you so much for that. Please tell Gretchen I appreciate her contribution as well.
But I do believe you can post about ANYTHING. There is no need for a phrase like "Writer's Block". Please help us prove this point by joining in our silly game and posting to our No Writer's Block Allowed Group.

This picture on my desk keeps me sane.
These are my daughters, Tall One and Little One, at the very best age.
At this age, they wanted to know EVERYTHING. They were delighted to open a present and find it contained socks. Wow, SOCKS! Everything in the world was a learning experience.
At this age, I was the most important thing in their world. There was no peer pressure. There was nothing they HAD to have and nothing that EVERYONE else was allowed to do that they weren't.
At this age, watching them sleep touched my heart like nothing else. Hugs were given easily. Their small hands slipped into mine while walking.
At this age, ice cream was a cause for dancing. They were boundless energy tempered by quick naps in the car seat.
At this age, there were little rituals that are gone now. We read stories before bedtime. I rocked them to sleep in my arms. Little One wanted to listen to classical music before bed. Tall One, not happy with Mommy's choices, would call out to her father for help. "Dokken, Daddy! Dokken!" (No, I am not kidding. I've told you she's different!)
At this age they were chubby cheeks and round bellies. They were cuddly, affectionate and giggly. They wore me OUT. And I adored them above all else.
I created these pictures with Microsoft Publisher and framed them for Christmas gifts for the Grandparents last year. I liked them so much that I recently printed another copy for myself.
A glance at this picture during a stressful day can make me smile. I love my daughters dearly now, but I miss the little girls they used to be.
Awe! Hang on Sarah. They grow up and look like this: