Sunny is always my salvation. I can be in the deepest, darkest funk and a sunny day will drag me up toward happy faster than you can say "Jack Robinson." When I first started paying attention to my tendency toward SAD I realized that even if I was sewing in the windowless basement I knew when the sun came out because I could feel my spirits lift. I know, it sounds ridiculous, but I swear it's true. There's a reason there's a "daylight" lamp next to the couch, the kitchen table, and my desk. They're cheap sanity. I cleaned out the top drawer of my dresser and, holy crap, did I have lots of stuff crammed in there. Reams of old greeting cards, old glasses, old watches, old wallets (no money, at least no American money to speak of, drat it), slips of paper with cryptic notes (Anne's odd pens) and old phone numbers on them, a radio that came over on the Ark and its camera friend, assorted split rings and beads for making stitch markers, Moose Poop incense, knee, ankle and wrist supports, a Harley-Davidson bandanna, and other detritus too insignificant to mention. Most of it's in the bin, some is in other places more suitable for its use, and some is going downstairs to live. I like this cleaning up thing. I find stuff and then have a tiny tidy space when I'm done. Just imagine, later in the year I'll have more tidy than messy!
Look what came! Look what just came! The red Dansko shoes I ordered on Tuesday came already. They're lovely and comfy and I'm wearing them right now. Red shoes, red shoes, I love red shoes. *pause for happy dancing*
January 26--Turkey, Tile. It was too frustrating to write or draw on the floor. Meemaw gave us paper and pencils and crayons but she wouldn't let us use a table. She was afraid we'd get marks on the tables, and we probably would have, but it was impossible to write or draw on the floor. The floor was covered with the most glorious white tiles with red, blue, and green floral decorations on them. They were beautiful. We all loved them, but they had bumps on them. The decorations weren't just paint or a decal pressed on the tile, it was dimensional. That made every pencil or crayon careen like a drunk as the implement lurched in our fingers.
Poor kid. I'm off to knit on my sweater front. I'm determined to get the last 10 rows of Fair Isle done today or tomorrow. Determined I tell you.