I am procrastinating. I am supposed to be editing my complete blog collection, revising it down into book-able format which will then be printed and saved, in case I should ever want it in hard copy. Since someday I hope to write a memoir of the crazy favela days, it would be nice to have all those memory jogs in one convenient place. But it's a long, slow process and so I keep putting it off.
I am also supposed to be finalizing my edits for a poetry book. Did I mention that I write poetry? That sometimes it makes me a little money, in contests and whatnot? That my supportive husband strong-armed me (in the best sense-he's very good at motivating!) into putting together a collection and self-publishing it? No? Oh. Well, now you know. The working title of the 50 page manuscript is "The Lonely Tourist's Guide to Urban War Zones," with cover artwork by Mr. Bugigangas! It should be ready in April, if all goes well.
But for right now, it's probably 80 degrees or more in the house and the sun is beating down. Not having anywhere comfortable, air-conditioned and harassment-free in which to do my writing outside the house, I think I'll grab my notebook, lock myself in the spare bedroom and flip the AC to "high."