In a Stupid Stupor of Thought

I’ve been keeping a mental list of all the delightful little tidbits that I’d like to write about, but unfortuantely they have all been pushed aside to make way for Ye Olde Fashioned Dreaded Colde Viruse. 

(“Now with extra vowels!”)

Most of my time has been spent making excellent use of Kleenex and water.  Nasal decongestants are placebos, right?  Because they never do anything for me.

The good news is that I was able to survive an outing yesterday to watch the “Mini Magic Flute” as part of the Utah Symphony’s Lollipops concert series.  My mother-in-law treated my whole family; it was wonderful.

The actors sang the most famous arias and choruses from the opera with translated English texts, and played the parts very, very broadly.  Mozart by way of Gilbert & Sullivan.  My favorite moment was simply seeing Eleanor’s eyes as we settled ourselves down in the concert hall.  Her eyes nearly popped off her little head as she gasped at the high-celinged chandeliers and goldleaf balconies. 

Aftewards, there was a “petting zoo” in the lobby where volunteers allowed children to touch and play instruments (violins, trumpets, clairinets, everything.)  Great program.  Heaps of antibacterial spray was sacrificed to the cause of art.

The only other thing that’s happening in my life is the continued plugging away at my book.  Draft #2 is coming along; the book recently passed its one year anniversary.  I’m scheduled to participate in a conference for writers and illustrators come June, so I have to have a chapter ready for submission by then.  I’m rather nervous about it and want to spend as much time breathing in and out of a paper bag as I do writing. 

As it is, 90% of my writing time is spent with me tugging on my hair and staring at the computer screen, and 10% actually typing out words to read. 

So the progress is slow.  Pass my that paper bag.