Until I fling my manuscript, laptop, pens & pencils, and a few pairs of socks into a bag so I can run away from home for a week up to The Clearing for a writing workshop. See, you all think that The Clearing is this earnest, almost religious, retreat-like folk school where people go to pursue the arts and learn things in a non-competitive setting. What it really is is a hide-out for frazzled middle-aged women who need to run away to a place where the phones are turned off, there's no TV or internet, someone else cooks and cleans up, and all they have to do is take quiet walks in the woods, sit in a classroom with a beautiful view of the Bay and talk about writing with a passel of other women writers. Ahhh. I'll be packing a bit of knitting for the evenings but what I won't be packing is any kind of work--house or otherwise. Nine days, people, nine days. (nobody can see it but inside I'm doing the running-around-happy-dance that LC does)
Today I caught the sun just peeking over the trees in the park in the next block. I hoped for a colorful sunrise but this morning there weren't any clouds to catch the reds, only a pale yellow smear on the horizon, so I waited for the sun to just barely rise above the treetops and I snapped it.
I got Sudoku Almond #7 done last night after supper and then I cast on a Big Fat Hat using super bulky yarn and US 17 needles (they're fence posts when I'm not knitting with them--not really, but they kind of feel like it). I like a big yarn, big needle project as a "palate cleanser" when I'm on a long project like the Sudoku afghan. It gives me a quick shot of accomplishment, a feeling that I've finished something.
September 17--Rick Poley, Yellowstone NP. The long line of shaggy brown bison walked down the center of the road. It was late September and a few snowflakes drifted down to sparkle in their fur before melting. The line of bison was trailed by a line of SUVs and motor homes. No one swung out to pass because the oncoming traffic slowed onto the edge of the shoulder to give the bison the right of way and there was no room for passing. Blake and Marsha were in the first vehicle behind the bison. Marsha had her camera out and kept up a running commentary as they crept along. "I wish they'd turn so I could get a side or a head shot. I don't really think our family and friends want to see endless pictures of buffalo butts." Blake hummed and shrugged which could mean agreement. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to try to creep by them so I can take pictures,: Blake hummed again, this time with a firm shake of his head.
I wouldn't mind seeing a few buffalo butts today but I suspect there won't be any on the Mason Street bridge or anywhere else in the 4.4 miles between here and the dive shop. Time for showering and other work-related personal tidying up. But I'll eat my banana first because no one in their right mind eats a banana after they've brushed their teeth; you'd just have to brush them again to get the banana off. That's sticky stuff. Toodles.