My first Yankee game in the New Stadium

The grass is groomed into broad stripes, diagonals if the sun hits it right. The lights are so good that an 8:00 p.m. game still looks like noon. At left is my son, Charles, my husband behind me (that' sme with the shadow all over my face. Then comes Karen, Charles' wife, my daughter, Heather, her husband, Jesse, my grandson, Jacen, and all the way down, my granddaughter, Rebecca.

Do you think A-rod was hit in the head on purpose?

Writing Blahs and What do Do About Them

I hate to admit that I was in a writing blah today, but was I ever! None of my thoughts seemed important enough to write about. Every time I got an idea, I'd talk myself out of it. "It's dumb." "You'll never find a market for it." "I have nothing to write about that's better than the last piece I got published." Oh, I couldn't swat these thoughts away, no matter how hard I tried.
Here's what I did instead:
1. I was working on a poem. Instead of reading more poetry, I read a play: The Children's Hour, by Lillian Hellman.
2. I told myself that I didn't have to write anything great, just write something. I could always look at it another day and see if it had anything to it. Just get something down.
What do you do to saddle your muse?