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Sisters of the Moon

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I went to my first Christmas party of the year last night and stayed far too late; I didn't roll out of bed until after ten this morning but at the very least I do feel very well rested, at any rate, if groggy. I stuck to Sauvignon Blanc last night, which I really like--I use to loathe white wine, but have developed an appreciation for both Chardonnay and Sauvignon Blanc. I rather like wine, but rarely drink it at home.

Perhaps a glass every evening will help me sleep?

Yesterday was, on the whole, a good day. I spent most of the day washing the bed linen and organizing my kitchen (not as much as I should have done, of course; I never do that as much as I should. I really need to clean out the drawers and cabinets; a project for my vacation that never happened), and I worked on editing one of my short stories. I came across an anthology call for submissions that is absolutely perfect for this story, and I needed to go over it again. It's been rejected a minimum of three times--for two conference anthologies and from Ellery Queen; but I kind of figured it didn't strike the right tone for the conference anthologies and Ellery Queen was a long shot. But when I opened the document yesterday, I immediately saw what was wrong with it and why it had been rejected so regularly, and I also knew how to fix it, so I started working on it. I hope to get that finished today and sent off and out of the way; there are couple of other calls I'd like to submit to as well; and the stories need to be worked on a bit, and I also need to get going on the new novel as well. I also got editorial notes I need to mull over today, and I need to make the Costco run that I should have made yesterday but put off.

But it's also raining; thunderstorms off and on all afternoon. Costco in the rain? Hmmmmm.

I do rather like how gray it is outside, though.

And lord, what a mess this kitchen/office area is this morning.

I do feel more motivated today than I did yesterday--whatever that may mean for the day; I would like to finish reading my book today, and I'd like to get some good work done.

Why is it so hard for me to remember that I enjoy writing? I actually do, you know, and I suppose as with anything I just get very frustrated and annoyed when it's not going well or with myself when I get lazy.

Okay, need to focus and get things done.

Here's a French farmer.

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