Not Dead, Just Hibernating

I'm running a little behind. And the photographs are in exactly the wrong order; sorry about that. They are mostly self-explanatory, at least.
From bottom:
1) Mandarinli ('Mandy') in the Weihnachtsbaum
2) Mandy in the tree, attacking a chocolate mouse
3) Peppercorn, trying to blend in, failing to blend in
4) Offspring, making annual Snow Goon
5) View from office window
6) Peppercorn, fishing.

Now! This is a writing blog, right?
So.
I have stopped submitting anything temporarily. I am a strange sort of mental lummox, and can't seem to remember that the important thing is the writing bit and not the getting published bit, so I am not submitting before summer, just writing. Writing writing writing. At the moment I am only writing crap, but at least I am writing. I can't seem to remember how, can't seem to open that vein at the moment, and can't tell if I'm trying too hard or not trying hard enough. This leads to desperately boring activities such as writing a list of the items on my desk. I don't dare write about any of the characters in any of my half finished stories, because they are all against me anyway and won't cooperate.
My mind even goes blank when faced with EE's engaging cartoonery. Of course, it's always possible that Evil has installed a mind-suck virus to dupe the minions he lures onto that page- I wouldn't put it past him, but I'm blaming the whole thing on

WINTER

which I hate.
The mere fact that setting all my manuscripts on fire would produce heat is an almost unbearable temptation.