I want one. A few whole days all to my lonesome dove and I will sit and my muscles will stretch and I will sleep and sleep and soak until I am rubber and then fall for a massage therapist for a few hours before more sleeping and soaking.Other than that, well, if there is one thing I know about me it's that I am a fickly and flighty little bird. I am moving my creative adult self into a studio. I promise to make it worth the effort of extra work.
I am chilled. I just ate figs; they taste vaguely of *spice*
I hope that I am not too disappointingly dull these days. By now the social energy of summer ought to have abated. It has not. The upswing continues to tick. It is full harvest here. If my ears hear the word grape or sugar count one more time...well it will be normal and this evening.
The shortened days lilt between painting, writing, riding, finding out how much Chaya I can pack into one day. Sometimes it is too much, or not enough, or none.
Tell me a secret.
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