I sense a new theme emerging on this blog.
I am on fire. Don't bother to call the rural fire protection district office. I've paid my yearly fire tag, but I'm not in need of putting out. Nor am I hot-flashing. Or any kind of flashing. I am flying through some pieces to ready them for contest submissions. Because it's almost the end of the month, you know. And deadlines loom on the horizon.
Sparks are virtually flying from my fingertips. Some days you got it, some days you don't. I hope I'm not in some manic phase like Abby's mother Maggie on ER. I don't want to wander into the workplace and embarrass my child by acting all flirty in my too-short, too-young dress. And I certainly don't want to run off to Oklahoma and shack up with a trucker until he leaves me in a motel with the bill while I am spiraling down into depression, so that Abby and Carter have to come find me, causing a rift between Abby and hot, hot Luka, who didn't really mean to kill that man on their first date, it just tends to happen when you pound somebody's skull into the pavement.
Where was I? Oh, yes. I've got a plethora of pieces going out on Monday. Lucky for me that I have six years of daily blog posts to in my submission stable. Posts which only need a bit of trimming, padding, direction, tailoring, updating, polishing, and de-blogifying. I keep that old blog around like an ant keeps an aphid, storing that sweet nectar until I need it. No use reinventing the wheel. I already do that twice a day.
So far, there's one down, and seven to go. I need to get busier.