If you're running in the snow and you trip over Porter, you'll fall down and your jeans will get wet. It was an excellent, awesome night to be playing out in the snow. It wasn't bone-chilling cold, there wasn't any wind, and the snow was like movie snow--big, sparkly flakes. Made me want to run. Porter ran with me. Porter cut in front of me trying to get the squeaky ball I carried. I tripped. I fell into the snow. Today my perfume is Eau de IcyHot. (I save the expensive Biofreeze for work and more formal occasions.) The scent is most noticeable around my knees area but Durwood doesn't care, my laptop doesn't care, my sewing machines don't care, my knitting doesn't care, therefore I don't give a crap either. Today I'm going to sequester myself in my studio in the basement and do laundry while I play with fabric (and give my knees a rest). I've got a flannel and linen lap comforter nearly done, so I'll finish that, then I want to plan the monster lunch bag I'm making for a craft swap I signed up for on Craftser.org. I signed up because it's a short-term, single-item swap. All I have to do is make one "monster pouch" and send it off to my partner by March 20. Totally doable. I'll be posting in-progress photos on my crafting blog so stop on over and see how the monstering progresses in the next 2 weeks. (Stop over there anyway because I have fun making things and like to share them.) I just called and sang to my nephew, CA, who is having his 18th birthday today. How did that little curly blond cherub get to be that old when I haven't changed one whit since he was born? (This photo is from a few years ago when we all went to his house for Thanksgiving. He's much taller now.)
March 3--Edouard Baldus,Avignon, Pont St. Benezet. Bill skirted the muddy part of the riverbank where the cluster of small boats were tied. He saw the welter of footprints in the mud and thought how cool and squishy it must have felt on the bare feet that made them. The fish smell was strong on the light breeze and fish scales sparkled like tiny mirrors in the bottom of the biggest boat. A mother duck trailing a dozen or more ducklings swam by, the duck looking serene and the ducklings bobbing along like feathered ping pong balls. The little flotilla made for the cover of a stand of cattails. Shading his eyes to watch them Bill saw them veer away and he wondered if maybe a cat was prowling there but then he saw something like a log bump along coming downstream. As it grazed the outermost skiff the log rolled and Bill was horrified to see that it wasn't a log at all. It was a man. Bill stumbled and slipped in the mud, falling in his haste to get away. He ran toward the village smearing all the footprints on the path.
Now I'm going to put fresh sheets on the bed and then go down to play with fabric, both as laundry and raw materials. Use your day for good.
*the approximate number of days I have been alive. I'm figuring an average of one "life lesson" per day.