I've been fairly productive today. I watched Sylvia Browne On Montel, drank three cups of coffee, watched my daughter go giddy over the sight of her early Christmas/Yule present, (Guitar Hero 3) took a shower, and made a peanut butter silk pie with a thick, shiny chocolate ganache topping. Whew! I still need to vacuum and I might have to make a batch of brownies just in case her friends pop over to play GH3 this weekend. Hey, I try to be super mom. :) Unfortunately, my writing has fallen by the wayside. I'm so mad at myself for that, but there just doesn't seem to be enough time in the day for "me time." I think sometimes that I keep myself busy with the "mundania" side of life because writing romantic fantasy seems frivolous and self-indulgent. I mean, it's not producing an income, it's not feeding anybody and it doesn't make the house any cleaner. I know this is not a good mind-set for a writer to have, but I'm betting it's an issue that many women writers with families have. So, how do I move past it? Hmm... I think some inspiration may be in order. Happy Thanksgiving. Dessert here I come!