Sitting down to the laptop computer this evening after doing battle with the desktop and its frequent blue screen of almost death. I contemplated posting a piece for this week’s New Poetry Wednesday. This contemplation gave way to the ‘oh holy crap! I am behind in Camp NaNoWriMo. I need to write!’. Three poetry pieces later, I find myself here in a contemplative mood but no closer to deciding on piece for Wednesday.
I went into Camp NaNoWriMo with the intent of writing on a few themes but now, these themes elude me much like the perfect way to rid me of my garden of weeds. I am behind in word count but not lacking for progress. I’ve completed several pieces for Smoke & Spirit as well as The Cupcake Verses. I finally put down a piece for A Hundred Flames this evening. When I am not writing, which is way too often, I have been testing the recipes for The Cupcake Verses. Yes, it is a cookbook. It is still a bit undecided on its intentions but it is in the works and no, it isn’t about cupcakes per se.
I have also been attempting housework/decluttering. There have been some setbacks. Discovering this morning that the household cooling system does indeed have a small leak was not how I wanted to start a week that will soon jump back into the 90 degree temperatures. Hoping the roof is okay, and has not sustained long term damage. I, being afraid of heights, have no intention of obtaining a 12 foot ladder and going up to the roof to fully inspect the issue. Planning on having someone – aka a family member – come over this weekend with their ladder and lack of fear to inspect for me. Hoping for an easy and inexpensive fix.
There are times where I wish I lived in a place that has HOA to do yardwork/maintenance for me. Today, between the leak and the taming of the weed garden, was one of those times. I ‘poisoned’ weeds today. Three gallons of white vinegar later and I hope I got most of them. Vinegar works but lacks precision which makes eradication of all the weeds difficult. I still smell the vinegar everywhere. I loathe the smell yet it is superior to the horrid odor of commercial weed killers.
Starting edits on The Breath of Summer this week. Read through it last week and it seems fairly clean so hoping for minimal work to get it published.
And now the questions I contemplate…
What happens when the muse hides from you? When the words hide from you?