How Now Brown Cow?

Bored by social networking?  Tired of blogging? Yup.  That's me.  Don't know why.  I realized a few weeks ago that I hadn't tweeted for ages, and my Facebook comments were sorely lacking, and now my blog has remained, well, unposted.  WTF?

A certain ennui has crept into life.  Is it spring?  Is it sending queries to agents and never hearing back?  I mean, like, NEVER.  Is it losing a good friend and the loving, lovely cat?        

O.K.  I've been busy.  Cooking.  Garden.  Not so much writing.  Haven't enjoyed writing since I sent my short story in.   Really liked doing that.   The novel proceeds, but hardly apace.

Now I am hosting a rotten head cold.  Haven't had one of them in YEARS.   Never get sick.   And in spite of not gained any weight and working out, etc., I had to buy shorts a size larger yesterday.  Talk about a bummer.   So April and May have been Bah-Humbug months.  What's it all about, Alphy?

Thisbe, the remaining cat, seems to be grieving, and needs lots of extra attention.  Treats, petting, going outdoors to the deck or the porch for a nip of fresh air.  Catnip.  Many pinches of catnip.  I wish someone would see to my needs like that.

The pecan pie bars were to die for.  The salmon cheese cake--dynamite.  The retro easy-as-pie to make artichoke dip was a real winner.  We still have two pieces (frozen) of the raspberry cake, another winner.

I am too tired and coldy to grocery shop or write.  Far too blah to buy the rest of the veggies and flowers to plant.  Always one of my most favorite tasks.  Bah!  Humbug.

The book, The Scent of the Missing about Puzzle, the SAR  (Search and Rescue) dog was wonderful.  I read a few pages of Proust last night, enjoying it until I fell asleep.

But nothing quite gets me out of this funk.   Let's hope it's The Cruellest Month and its successor.  Maybe a more-or-less uncelebrated birthday.  Maybe this damn cold.

Drowning in self-pity.  Phooey.