I haven't painted a stroke since before Thanksgiving. I have not finished a painting since. There are four canvases in various stages of completion(?) in the studio.

Meanwhile, the studio door remains shut, with only a 63 degree F electric radiator to entertain the muses.

I have been busy now and then on graphic design projects, but most of the past couple months all I have done is watch TV, (HGTV, mostly) and think.

Thinking is my problem. I think too much at times, and this winter has been a thinker's season.

I am in the process of some great creative metamorphosis, and that is the problem. When that happens nothing much gets done.

I have made a few dishes in the kitchen that either were stupendous or awful. I have tried to clean the house but usually I get stalled by something or other and quit. The bathroom has been attempted four times, and all I get done is cleaning the sink and the floor.

My laundry piles are atrocious. My floors get vacuumed about once ever two weeks. I did wash a few interior windows.

My reading list hasn't diminished. My car is still dirty and covered with road salt. My backlog ofpaper work grows daily. I haven't written a line or a poem for months.

I hope when Spring arrives she will grant me the boon of having already done my "Spring Fever."

On the good side, I have not been ill. I have a constant nose drip, and with me that is usually a sign of a winter without a cold or flu. My system seems to be strong enough to avoid the plagues that are going around.

I did do a lot of painting last year, so maybe the muse is giving me a vacation. The thinking goes on.

My father always told me the first step to anything is realizing that you are not taking that first step yet.

So, I must take a step. Thanks again, Dad.