Once again, the relentless wheel of time has moved on while I dithered and muddled my way through it unaware of its passage.
This does not a responsible blogger make.
(Lordy. Your sentences. They ofttimes upset my stomach make.)
Nice try Yoda.
Part of one's funk can be firmly laid at the door of a lingering winter guest who needs to pack his bags and head north. Post haste.
Here's the view from my front door just now...
March 6. Really? Someone put the following on FB the other day... it pretty much sums up our feelings around here....
But the happy news is that last week I bought a load of wood and had it delivered near my back door. I stacked it all into my little backdoor woodshed, so I am feeling SO happy not to be schlepping wood under these circumstances.
And there are other benefits of being snowed in..... again.
I got out my watercolors.
C. sent me a pin recently ... because she knows I love journals.
Is that beautiful or what? Wow.
I decided to paint it, since I don't own it. Though looking at that gorgeous thing makes me want to take up leather work.
(Oh please. No more crafts. My nerves won't take it.)
You are SUCH a snowflake.
Wait.
Poor choice of words...
Crybaby.
Anyway, here's my rendition:
I also have a little project going on next to my reading chair. I wanted to be able to paint without all the fuss and formality of the work table and the relative discomfort of sitting in a less that optimal chair. So I made a little palette in a mint tin and put one of my water brushes by my cozy chair and gave myself permission to play.
Let it snow. It can freaking snow until it reaches the rafters. I have enough paint to last for a year.
Oh yeah, you want to hear a funny? A few days ago, before the latest snowfall, I worked up a planting bed in the garden, affixed a bit of fencing and planted sweet pea seeds.
Yeah.
I.
Did.
That.
And you know what? I bet they come up anyway.
(Your optimism is rather disturbing.)
Your negativity is pathological.
You need to go out and get some fresh air.
Put on your wee little boots and your wee little muffler and get your wee little fanny out of the house.
I have things to do.
The Earth is tilting its way toward Spring. This cannot last forever. I will see sunflowers again. And be intoxicated with Sweet Pea fragrance once more. I will taste a homegrown tomato still warm from the sun.
(Have you ever heard of something called The Ice Age? ... Just curious.)
Wee boots. Wee muffler. Wee arse outdoors.
(It's still snowing!)
Now mister.
(Tyrant.)
Author of your fate.
().
Precisely.
March 6. Really? Someone put the following on FB the other day... it pretty much sums up our feelings around here....
But the happy news is that last week I bought a load of wood and had it delivered near my back door. I stacked it all into my little backdoor woodshed, so I am feeling SO happy not to be schlepping wood under these circumstances.
And there are other benefits of being snowed in..... again.
I got out my watercolors.
C. sent me a pin recently ... because she knows I love journals.
Is that beautiful or what? Wow.
I decided to paint it, since I don't own it. Though looking at that gorgeous thing makes me want to take up leather work.
(Oh please. No more crafts. My nerves won't take it.)
You are SUCH a snowflake.
Wait.
Poor choice of words...
Crybaby.
Anyway, here's my rendition:
I also have a little project going on next to my reading chair. I wanted to be able to paint without all the fuss and formality of the work table and the relative discomfort of sitting in a less that optimal chair. So I made a little palette in a mint tin and put one of my water brushes by my cozy chair and gave myself permission to play.
Let it snow. It can freaking snow until it reaches the rafters. I have enough paint to last for a year.
Oh yeah, you want to hear a funny? A few days ago, before the latest snowfall, I worked up a planting bed in the garden, affixed a bit of fencing and planted sweet pea seeds.
Yeah.
I.
Did.
That.
And you know what? I bet they come up anyway.
(Your optimism is rather disturbing.)
Your negativity is pathological.
You need to go out and get some fresh air.
Put on your wee little boots and your wee little muffler and get your wee little fanny out of the house.
I have things to do.
The Earth is tilting its way toward Spring. This cannot last forever. I will see sunflowers again. And be intoxicated with Sweet Pea fragrance once more. I will taste a homegrown tomato still warm from the sun.
(Have you ever heard of something called The Ice Age? ... Just curious.)
Wee boots. Wee muffler. Wee arse outdoors.
(It's still snowing!)
Now mister.
(Tyrant.)
Author of your fate.
().
Precisely.