Sized and sleeved, but I keep wishing for a way to do something to bump up the contrast.
I do it often enough to make me wonder. Focus on shapes, line, and movement, but lose sight (or is it a sacrifice?) of color and contrast.
Sized and sleeved, but I keep wishing for a way to do something to bump up the contrast.
I do it often enough to make me wonder. Focus on shapes, line, and movement, but lose sight (or is it a sacrifice?) of color and contrast.
Not quite yet, but soon. A fountain pen turned on me. Ice Rink blue was everywhere.
A lightweight folding workable is coming. I ran all the dye shakers through the dishwasher before I went away.
In good time...a good time. Like these from Summers gone by.
There's much to do. . starting with re establishing lines of communication.
Coming out of shutdown is uncharted territory.
Yesterday there was a big step.
A week inside with rain every day has been a test. There are math practices and the latest CD of the Harry Potter saga. I've also introduced him to the Star Trek movie series. The first two were slow as dirt and haven't held up. We learned the expression "curtain chewing" as it applies to the art of acting.
Sometime in the past few days, the mailbox garden gardenia has exploded into bloom. In tribute? In memoriam? No, just nature doing its very best to persist.
Self-care, cleaning, cooking, reading, writing, even organizing all the tax shit has been helpful. Finding a new primary care provider remains a quest. Having UHC feels like having an std.
Years ago, I bought a beautiful cotton shirt on eBay. It was such a deal, such good quality, that I returned to the same seller and bought two more. White, navy, and Caribbean blue.
They have been hanging in my closet for years, barely worn because the long sleeves rolled up to be secured by a clever tab and button that was uncomfortably bulky.
Last night I lopped off a third of the sleeves, hemmed the raw edges with a nun's precision, then ran a row of stitches under each button placket to thwart gaping. A whole new wardrobe. Time well spent.
Another day stretches out as I move from one view to the next, window to window, watching for Camilla. If I call her (Milla, milla) outside, I start to cry. This has happened on my watch.
Salem joined me in the front yard yesterday. A perfect day, breezy, high 70s in the shade. A new bug repellent is working well, and a good book to take me away from the moment. Crook Manifesto by Colson Whitehead.
I did the math, and Salem is about fifteen and Bailey, ten. They still spar as they have always done, but they miss Camilla who is only three. Bailey's playmate, Salem's idiot child.
Salem insists on being on the high deck even when it's too damn hot. She can see the whole backyard from there. Bailey patrols when he is not sleeping, more than usual. Me too. I have to go to the vet today to get the monthly flea pills, and I know I will cry some more when I tell them that I will only need two doses instead of three.
This is the last photo I have of all three. It rained all weekend, and Camilla was bored and sick of being inside. Here she's making a pile of pies just before the weather broke, and she ducked out the cat door for some fresh air and freedom a week ago, Monday, around sunset.