Winter is Coming, So Are Bath Fizzies

So here I was, thinking I'd lost my mojo. Truly. For the past few weeks, actually since the last post here, I've been struggling to find inspiration. Inspiration to write, inspiration to create, just plain old inspiration to get out of bed! I couldn't figure it out. I wasn't sleeping that great, was troubled with nightly headaches and general body aches, but nothing really seemed amiss, I thought, oh, the weather's changing, I must be getting old and rickety. I even blew off Halloween, my favorite night of the year. So not me. I thought it was a sinus infection creeping in, yet again, so I was irrigating and steaming and resorting to otc pain medications only in the direst of moments, but the quiet little affliction continued to linger, however unformed. I was even resorting to Benadryl at night just so I could sleep and not feel the headache that moved around inside my head. I was contemplating a trip to the doctor, something I haven't done in over a decade. Instead, I quit all the otc meds, the Benadryl and the acetaminophen, stopped contact irrigating and only steamed a few times instead of all day, increased the medicinal spices in my diet, like ginger and horseradish and turmeric and onion, swallowed tablespoonsful of apple cider vinegar, drank gallons of fresh-made green tea, and today I'm back to normal. Okay, my normal. And I'm here. Talking about the odyssey of the snozz. Again. One day I will have to go to a physician and get this sinus thing figured out. In a way that won't permanently damage my sense of smell. Although this time the sinus issue never fully formed, it was strong enough to sap my energy, play fast and loose with my sleepy time, and cause me to feel that my creative life was doomed. I know. I'm being dramatic. One thing that I have noticed over the years is that sometimes the sinus issues liven up when I'm under stress, and this entire past year, since August of 2014, has been a roller coaster ride of stress, some financial, some personal. I think this last bout was caused by the wrapping up of a huge financial burden -- the final payment came, a moment of stress and joy, and stress won. The crash was hard -- all those months of worry and now it's done. I think I was having a bit of an existential crisis -- what am I to do now that the purpose for working my arse off this past year has disappeared? Point inward, the voice said (voice, singular, not voices) and apply all that energy to fulfilling the dream. The thurifercorium. And more books.

I have some writing to do this weekend for a non-book project, so I'm probably not going to wear myself out on the final chapters of the book. I will, however, be experimenting for one of the final chapters of the book. And for the record, I missed my book deadline. Imagine that! A new deadline has been set and I have every intention of making it, with time to spare. I just need to pay better attention to my body and notice more quickly when things begin to go awry so they can be remedied before they cause me to become catatonic.

And, as usually happens when I'm burdened with a broken olfactory organ, I'm getting student submissions for evaluation almost daily. By tomorrow I should be able to get them worked out. Today I'm playing catch up. With everything.

Loads of new stuff are coming to the apothecary -- during the lull in creativity, I had been gathering the goods for when I was feeling better. The studio table is loaded down with raw materials raring to be turned into something exquisite. Patchouli bath fizzies, anyone?