Fun Fact: There Is No Entry for "Doodle" in My Thesaurus

Sometimes the crazies who run Covenant let me typeset books (I'm lookin' at you, Sam).  Apparently, ever since they let me at it, InDesign has been acting up.  Its favorite thing to do lately has been attaching paragraphs to each other and spacing everything out weird.  Mostly this is really obnoxious, as it means a lot of extra time and energy for me and the proofreaders, but today I found this:

Ah haaa!  The typeset was whining at me. And/or that character cannot understand why anyone would give up alcohol.

It's the little things.

It's the little things.

I wrote a really long journal entry on New Year's Eve and I had every intention of posting it, but I'm not sure that I'm quite ready to share it yet.  I'm trying to be patient, to let the words present themselves to me, to stumble upon the right way to adequately describe some really complex emotions that I've dug up.  I still can't quite say what I mean. 

In the mean time, I've been doodling with words again.  Practice makes perfect, eh?  Well, practice makes more familiar, anyway.

Here's a word doodle for your enjoyment:

Mrs. Sowerberry's bun was always a little askew.  She would hold it with her left hand and pin it in place with her right, and her arms were so short that she had to tilt her head down to reach.  The heavy hair would inevitably drag her head to one side, so her bun always sat just left of center.  Mrs. Sowerberry was a tiny, tidy, nasty woman.  

This perpetual imperfection--her lopsided hairdo--irked Mrs. Sowerberry.  It was the one thing she could not sweep, dust, polish, or scrub away.  She hated it, and hating that small part of herself so intensely and for so long took its toll.  One can only scowl at one's self in the mirror so many mornings before one believes there is nothing at all to smile at.