Just poured a beyoootyful can of D.P. into a frosty, icy glass and am prepared to ponder.
1) Prince Charles is going to marry Camilla Whatever Whatever. When he becomes King, she will not become Queen (this in a nod to public opinion). Instead, she will be the Princess Consort. Why does this title amuse me?
2) Why do I derive such enjoyment from eating a small bowl of Peaches & Cream oatmeal at midnight?
3) Why can't everyone think this way?
4) Is writing a "sacred art?" Why do some people call it that? Nothing brings on writer's block faster than believing I'm engaging in a "sacred art." Why must I light candles before I write? Why must I wave sage? If you must bathe in lavendar water and then dance naked in front of a roaring fire before sitting down to write, something is wildly amiss. Y'all are crazy.
5) Can I write a story to order? I've been asked to submit to an anthology, but it's one with a specific theme for which I have no corresponding story. Yet. (This is the part where you tell me to light some candles, wave some sage, and get nekkid.)
6) I am having lunch with family at the exalted PPQ on Clement tomorrow. I'm so sorry you won't be joining us, but perhaps I will take pictures for you. And here's the pondering part: how much roasted crab and garlic noodles can I eat before happily falling off my chair?
**takes a final sip from the frosty, icy glass**