It's in the 20s out there, the clouds are back, thick and gray, but it's not bitter cold, only regular cold, and it's supposed to snow 2"-4" on us sometime today. Guess who'll be snowblowing after work.
I can't seem to wake up today. I've been out of bed for about an hour and a half and I still feel like I could climb right back in and doze off. Good thing I make the bed when I get out of it, huh? I should probably wear red today just to keep myself awake.
I had a couple customers yesterday but I'd run out of "things to do" (except run the vacuum, ugh) so I surfed the web and goofed off. Didn't even knit much. Oh, I guess one of the people that came in wanted to do a refresher so I got that arranged, which meant I got to talk to DS for a minute or ten so that was good. But I had to talk with another customer about the wonderfulness that is Bonaire and the places Durwood and I stayed and dived the last time we were there. *sigh* That's hard, we want to go again but it doesn't seem like something we should or even can do. Bugger. DON'T smoke--or stop RIGHT NOW if you do. Please. COPD isn't fun--for anyone. But on the plus side, last night's sunset was sure pretty when I left work.
January 30--Paul Cezanne, Madame Cezanne in a Red Dress. She sat still, only her eyes moved, tracking the movement of his hand, the way his eyes flicked to her and then back to the canvas. He had put her in that old red dress with the high neck and long sleeves and had her slick down her hair. She felt restrained, almost suffocated when he asked her not to smile. She knew he had other models, all the artists did. Most of the models were young women, easy women. Her eyes were drawn to the chaise upholstered in dark green velvet shoved into a corner. There was a pile of scarves and shawls, silky pieces of fabric with fringes that would drape sensuously over the young flesh of the model girls. She had beautiful skin, pink and white and silky smooth. Why did he only want her covered as if he were ashamed? What was he trying to hide?
Okay, it's 8:15 and I need to shower and eat and flee to work again. I'd better get stirring. But I don' wanna. Waaaa. (just suck it up and go, Barbara, jeez)