Sleeping By the Lake

I'm closing up my summer retreat and heading down for the winter. Luckily, it's projected to be a mild one here in the high valley. I hope there's no big blizzard. The last one flooded my bedroom and the one before broke the frame of my van. I'd enjoy not being distracted by disaster right now so I trust they are right. I'm on an anti-hysteria regimen as well in efforts to improve my performance and production level.

There's a lake down there and as always, I put my bed by the window so I can breathe fresh air in the night after an evening of philosophical chat on the porch. Now is the time to savor this tonic, staying in the groove.

Melodies and Maladies

Many many moons ago, as I was contemplating my meager performance wardrobe, I looked at a skirt and said to myself, "I can make that." Little did I know I was about to embark on one of the craziest, most exasperating journeys of my previously sweet life. And once bitten by the sewing bug there is no known cure. No amount of health care legislation can help me now.

So my recent absence can be readily explained. I've had a recurrence of symptoms and I'm ripping, stitching, and steaming my way to relief. My problems are my own, which is also a relief.

All frustrations aside, the art of clothing construction is fantastically creative, sensually exhilarating, and emotionally therapeutic. Here is a local artist who knows.

I'm experimenting again in the chem lab I call my life. It's so odd that we human creatures have this added task. The endless creation of changing skins.