connected somehow

*While I was looking for something else* should be a book title...

 I came across a pale pencil outline in the sketchbook and I remembered what it was about and why I had started it. I was stalling going to sleep, but I broke out my little set of Inktense pencils and started layering on color that I couldn't even see correctly, the reading lamp was too dim, but the pencils were factory sharp. 

I was listening to the fabulous dialogue of Deadwood, and thinking about why salamanders in the Tarot are considered creatures of fire. Most likely by someone who had never held one in their hand. 

They were under every damp log where I grew up and they were cold and wet and never happy to be handled. 

I'm afraid to take a wet brush to this image. As much as I like blending these with water, somehow, this one will get screwed up and then I'll have to burn it. 

This book has been unraveling me in necessary ways. Each time I start reading, the trajectory of the story I'm working on is yanked hard in another correction. 

The biggest issue is I do not know the end of the story yet which makes getting from now to there impossible without a lot of aimless wandering. Lots of darlings to kill eventually. 

The Birthday Chair is back in place. Gave it a deep vacuuming, added some padding to the seat cushion, and added a lumbar cushion. If I keep holy with the thirty-minute timer, all should be well.

There's a full moon tonight. If there are no breezes, I'm going outside and light the firepit. 

I've added another handful of sets to the inventory, but there's a serious shortage of blues. I'll be having another dyefest in May.