Well, actually, that mystery has been solved early: I have a dish date w/ Grace. Many dirty dishes; no dishwasher or even a sink w/ running hot water. And I have to run to the local craft shop to buy something I already own, but can't find, an ink pen and ink. It's maddening to know that I'd recognize the box if it weren't moved to install electricity and duct work. To KNOW they're down there smirking at me, evasive, elusive. Well, now I'll have two of each. This is where Middle School pisses me off today. Tom has to write a letter as a black man in the Civil War and the letter has to be authentic. I'm considering including a few bullet holes at this point. Parchment-type paper and ink . . . At least the sloppy handwriting will be authentic.

I've been sketching First Impressions of the Minor Arcana using the Rider-Waite as my spring board. (Really, it is the First Tarot known to 20th and 21st Century folk ~ it's been around so long, it is a part of our collective unconscious.) Some are lame, others are indepth, yet others elude me. It's a process I wish I could focus on more. It doesn't help being cold, but then monks have written Illuminations in colder settings at ungodly hours. The interruptions of daily life hinder me, but there are ways around that. It irks me that on a day where I have NO ONE here ~ no electricians, no excavators, no capenter-type people, no children, no Dirk ~ I need to drive somewhere to do dishes and buy parchment. I'd like nothing more than to listen to Rhapsody radio all day and fuzz out on Creativity.

It would also help if I get off the computer and stop bitching.

But that's not the real reason I'm writing. I'm knitting some lace socks and keeping chickens alive and playing in my studio. Pics and blurbs here:

http://www.mentalmohair.blogspot.com