Hitting the Books

Well, I was going to post a review of Paths of Exile, Carla Nayland’s new novel, this week, and work on a quilt, and even possibly, maybe, hopefully, write some.

Instead I’ve spent the last 5 days painting a mural in my daughter’s bedroom (at my folks’ place in West Virginia). My parents named each of their rooms for one of the places we’ve lived. The Punkin’s room is the Northwest room. The big mountain you can barely see up at the top of the picture is supposed to be Mount Rainier, in Washington state.

I’m rather proud of how it’s turning out, considering this is my first mural ever. This isn’t the finished product–the dogwood’s already been painted over since it just didn’t fit in with the rest of the picture.

Needless to say, I’ve not gotten much else done this week. The Punkin especially is quite sick of “Mama painting.” I’m really hoping to have it done tomorrow (though I’ve been hoping that for the past 4 days)

I do promise to have that review up by the end of the month. Maybe even next week, Lord willing and the crik don’t rise.

When last we left our intrepid blogger, she was taking a brief sabbatical from the Internet in order to focus on her writing. That worked for a while–started turning the finished historical novel into a fantasy instead.

Then the Punkin got sick. Then the blogger got sick. Then the Punkin got sick again.

And then–oh, the horror, the horror–she got sucked into her sewing machine. Deeply mired, up to her eyebrows, and enjoying every minute of it. She started designing quilts, quilts, and more quilts. Received a wonderful, very addicting design program as a gift. Spends until 2 A.M. making pretty quilts instead of getting her poor, trapped characters out of her head. Bad, bad writer.

Now she’s gone and started up yet another website to try to sell some of her quilt designs. Don’t even mention the other poor languishing website. Someday…

June was recital month. Much stressing and rehearsing (the ballet was okay, the Irish kept slipping out of her wee over-stuffed head, and the Punkin refused to do her dance…until the first time she went out on the stage. Little diva.), cleaning and entertaining (since this was also the Punkin’s first recital, both sets of grandparents came into town). But it all turned out okay; the blogger is still relatively sane and healthy.

And two baby quilts had to be finished by July 1st.

No, no partridge in a pear tree.

Phew. I got tired just recounting all that.

But the point of this post is, I’m back. Hopefully. Certainly going to try my darnedest. Have a couple of book reviews coming up, and a few other odds and ends rolling around in the few empty spaces left in my head.

TTFN!