Petulant

That's how I felt today. It means peevishly impatient or irritable, and that was me today in a nutshell. Isn't "peevishly" an excellent word too? I am certain that my manuscript has diluted itself into the land of blah over the last couple of months. It was much zippier and more interesting when I wrote it; I'm sure of it.

I got my nails filled and the broken one fixed today and painted a lovely golden red. Sassy. Now if I can only translate that sassiness into words that I inject into my story...

January 22--Vasterbotten, Sweden. Lucy stood at the edge of the clearing looking down at the lake so far below. The water was the deep blue of the best sapphires and wore the barest ripples that reminded Lucy of the satin of ball gowns and royal robes. The whisper of the wind in the pines swept over her head although it was still on her dark gray granite perch. She loved the sharp fragrance of spruce and pine that tumbled around her, swirling down from the tall straight trees and gliding down to mix with the cold freshness of the lake water that flowed from the foot of the groaning glacier six miles up at the end of the narrow lake.

Hey, at least it's writing.
--Barbara