It seems I'm still getting used to the hubbub of working full-time on top of being a mother mammal, a wife mammal, healthy mammal, and creative mammal. The calendar on my wall is still on the month of January. The time I spend perusing the interweb for digital ephemera, dilly-dallying on facebook, and posting new and intriguing thoughts onto this blog of mine dwindles every day. There are little socks strewn all over my studio. Dust creeps under my toes as I sit here at my desk and type these words. Letters go unwritten. My hair needs trimming. Legs need shaving. I finally just changed the lightbulb to a light that burned out on my desk a month ago. My closet looks as if a giant vomited clothing into a pile. There are patches of dried spit-up all over the floor in my studio. The cats desperately need my attention and won't stop kneading my lopsided bosom. Good news is I've written three new songs for miss Beckett, I have a good chunk of writing done for my upcoming "Process Mundane" workshop at the Open Engagement conference in May, I'm preparing a sensory booth performance for a little show at Half Dozen gallery in April, I have a little time to spend with my dear friends this weekend, MTH and I sold three collaborative paintings, daffodils are popping, I'm sipping on a delicious homemade Vietnamese coffee, and clean sheets are in the dryer.
It's the little things...