I look out this window each morning when I draw in the marks book or stitch. It helps.
Still using the same black ink pen….it seems to have an endless supply of ink in its barrel.
Not too many more pages and the Marks Book will be filled. Still thinking stitched pieces added to the next Marks book. They could be tied onto the blank pages. Maybe words/drawings…maybe not.
Speaking of stitching, all seven of my night critters are finished with the bat this past week.
Now what in the world do I do with them?!
This week I had my annual physical…more of an emotional breakdown than physical. I told the doctor not to be nice…nice just opens up a flood. But it was good. I am healthy, just stressed at times with having to deal with daily life and Lee. I was assigned the responsibility of at least checking out possible places for him to go next. And it helps talking to those working at assisted care homes for memory problems. Next week I will try to tour at least one.
I want our kids to be able to visit him here when their Covid shots are complete. We live in an area of no small amount of ignorance combined with arrogance so mask wearing seems optional for many even though the virus is on the rise. What used to be a fondly called Clays Corner here in Brasstown is more of a QAnon Corner now with their Trump signs still proudly on display. It is creepy to say the least whenever I drive by.
Yesterday I received a note from a total stranger out west who reads my blog. She just wanted to say she finds my patience and strength amazing. Thank you. I don’t feel very strong this week but it is coming.
I also think I need to pare down my belongings. So much of what I have could be better put to use with those still more active in the arts. First I toss out the completely useless, then have my kids take what they want and give what’s left away or have it dumped into recycling or just the dump.
Why do we think we can just keep on the way we used to?
I will likely sell my home and find a simpler place to live. But that is further down the line. And this house is extremely far from being “showable” as nowadays the realtors want it looking like a blank slate when they show it. Thank god I have an offer to climb the ladder and clean the shelves of treasures of travel and craft items. What was I thinking?! But it was the focal point of a western North Carolina living magazine a few years back.
Good grief! And just think of what my closets must look like. I need to get busy.
I did start another short story that I have no idea where it is going but the first five hundred words were fun to write. Here is the opening paragraph of The Blue Collector.
Sara is quite sure it started on her eighth birthday. One of the candles on her cake was blue, bright blue. She made her wish, blew the candles out and quickly pocketed the blue one. Later she would wash off the frosting, trim the burnt wick and place it in the secret drawer of her music box. This was a very good color this blue. It wasn’t the baby boy blue, all powdery looking, and darker than a clear day’s sky blue, but not a blue like the sea. It was somehow brighter. It dazzled. This blue was a blue to watch for.