~:: Now, where was I? ::~

I have come to the conclusion that space and time are not only relative, but also fake.  Illusory.  At best, ephemeral. This must be so—or else what happened to the last week and a half?  No, really, I want to know.  Fallen into the deep maw of deadline, perhaps?  Consumed by flurry?  Evenings eaten by unfinished Easter Eggs?  Grand birthdays and the decision to make a present instead of buying one?  And there’s that ever nagging central question of human-ness: who the heck am I really after all these years?

First major thing: G and I went to visit our friends, Tracy and Laura Hickman – two of the most kind, generous, useful people I know.  It was about writing.  Books. Which I used to do.  And keep feeling like I might do again (like, should we have one more child?). Tracy is amazing – a new media maven.  And we had a long talk which I will write more about at another time, because I want your take on some things, but I’m not ready, yet, to frame my questions.

Then there were the Easter Eggs, and Scooter’s Big Birthday.

Then the Quilt Show, which is the elephant in my head for at least a month before the gig, and the elephant in my lap for four days afterwards.  Not that it isn’t fun.  But I spend about seven hours in plié, and the next several days wincing and walking oddly.  But that, too, is fodder for another piece.

And then my birthday is tomorrow, which I have somehow parleyed into yet another deadline in my head (???).  I find, after this long, wet, chill winding down of winter, that my mind is only ready to be in the middle of April.  Even the lilacs, usually in full bloom by now, are only now tentatively budding.  But today, it was suddenly 80 degrees inside the barn – and that is hard to process, indeed.

Here are pictures, which I am now fairly certain some of you enjoy, of the last strange several days.

A WEEK and a DAY AGO:

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Yes.  Woke up to this.  Are you KIDDING?

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This was nine o’clock in the morning.

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This was around noon.

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See the shadows on the lawn?  Maybe it was more like eleven.

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This was five o’clock.  And it was rotten the next day, too – we drove to the city to watch Chaz, who was sick as a dog, take part in the Japanese Fest, about which I will also post later.  Assuming I live long enough to catch up.

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These are the Easter eggs, placed carefully in a bed of anniversary roses-and-baby’s-breath and the few narcissi we had left in the yard.  I saved them from the weight of the snow.  I finally finished Dawn’s.  And mailed it.  So SLOW.

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Oh – and remember these wonderful super absorbent squishy little spheres?  This is what size they returned to after long evaporation.  Just so you know.

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Then Scooter’s Birthday.  He is incredibly old, and this is my gift to him.

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Which cannot be opened until his handsome dad is ready to document.

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We are all deeply interested in this moment: Scoots is old enough now to “get” the whole present thing, and makes short work of the unwrapping.

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Ta-DA!!

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Wait – is there anything else?

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No.  Just enough.  Some love.  Who could ask for more?

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Okay.  Add old pup and new pup.  That’s more.

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This is the guy.  I’m not fast, but I’m determined.  He was supposed to be a personal version of our little black and red Toby.  But as it turns out, he is a dark blue and red Toby.  So many things come clear in actual sunlight.

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This is my favorite picture of all.

So that’s kind of a partial report of why I had dropped off the grid.  It doesn’t look like much, these small things.  But all put together, it was a pretty overwhelming week.

to be continued –

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