Saggy middles, middle age, middle america... Whatever... middle is just a goofy word. That's where I seem to get stuck. Losing my thought mid-sentence.
It can be hard to get past the middle of a project. Especially one that requires patience, or seems to stretch out endlessly, like the stole that I'm crocheting entitled "Irish Mist Stole". With such a romantic title I envisioned hours of crocheting contentment. A virtual Irish Mist making fantasy. I'm about halfway to the finish line and it's nice, but not exactly shamrocks and leprechauns, not that I'd want the leprechauns.
For me, the middle can be a place where failures or abandoned projects flash before me, like mocking leprechauns reminding me of a trail of mistakes made in the past. That's when I need to remember a word spoken to me twenty years ago-"Don't look back at the past and all it's flack." That's all I can remember, but I think it's wisdom.