Why do I try to ambush myself out of my writing and illustrating mental blocks by signing up for real projects with real deadlines? Why why why do I do this? I am sick of being paralyzed, but also need to remember that the last time I tried to publish a real public article on a deadline, my freaking out shocked my body into premature labor and then three months of bedrest. Plus I haven't been able to illustrate anything in over two years. Now I have both a book review and an art project (illustrated poem about preschool conflict resolution for Iron Gate) due by mid-week. People are depending on me. I ... can ... do ... this ...
I have been unable to sign up for the BlogHer ad network because the password and ID I created, and which those good folks confirmed, don't like me and won't let me in. All I need to know is the number to which I should fax the applications. Anyone?
On 9/13 I went down to the county Board of Supervisors' monthly meeting for what I thought was the resolution and approval of our extended (i.e., since February) property easement relocation process and plan. Nope, this was merely the Planning dept.'s approval--we still don't have the Board's approval, and will need to supply more and better documentation to prove that what we're doing won't cleave the earth in two and summon forth hordes of voracious bureaucrat-devouring demons from the darkest pits of hell. This should take a couple of months. I was disappointed, but figured that at this point in our family's income status, a delay is not necessarily a bad thing. What really pissed me off, though, was the county building security guards' confiscating and refusing to hold or return my beloved Leatherman. Bastards.
Anyhow. I am at the library and have fewer than three child-free hours in which to Make Progress. Eep. To work.
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