It’s really a paradox that I cook when I’m in energy-overload because I don’t really have an appetite. So the whole thing works out to be a tease to a degree.
However, once the house starts smelling like roasting garlic and sizzling olive oil – life immediately simplifies.
I’m busier at the moment than I’ve been during the cult’s web voyage of words that started back in September. Drat you job, packing/finding house, arranging other sillies-ness!
Once again my anthology has… ummm… grown? I’m not sure if that’s what it’s called when I start writing poems in all sorts of unorganized places faster than my trying-to-take-shape book can handle… but it will work for now.
Supposedly in about three weeks we’ll have moved. Timeframes spin me out, especially ones that involve very short periods where I have zero input… or so it seems.
At least there’s bound to come some decent poetry from it…