My muse mulls. She does not have instantaneous jolts of divine inspiration. No light-bulb, aha moments. She ruminates. She sighs a lot and scratches her head. She pauses for insufferable periods of time between keystrokes. She deletes and rewrites. She sulks and sweats, pouts, rants and sometimes cries. And, occasionally she comes up with something that ain't half bad and once in a blue moon something that ventures on pride fills her soul. Then with tenacity and humility she begins to mull again.