teeth on edge

the poet must be continually watching the moods of his mind, as the astronomer watches the aspects of the heavens
           Henry David Thoreau

Having nearly gone over the edge in recent days, I decided that reading Thoreau was just the antidote I needed.  The chapter "Simply Seeing" (A Writer's Journal) resonated. I paused, really looked at my immediate surroundings...and noticed Alien Yarnman who has been sitting in a corner of my desk for a couple of years. Funny how we stop seeing things after awhile. Well, I do, which tells me that I really need to work on mindfulness. However, he does reflect my current mood -- which is one of teeth-on-edge-I'll-never-get-out-of-here-without-forgetting-my-clothes-and-hands-and-shoes. Oh, and I feel fat (although recent physical and mental activity has resulted in losing 2#s!).

So I dawdle, putter, try to put things in order and perspective, move yarn balls around, in and out of the sun -- for no reason except that they look pretty and there's lots of sun pouring into 50 windows in this glass house...

and accept that I will not be able to finish editing/rewriting in one week, the oral history that I've sporadically worked on for over a year. duh!

I will have to bring it with me or send it on ahead -- and there's no chance that it will get lost in the mail (like Hemingway's early stories) because: 1) it's only going to CA (not Paris, more's the pity) and 2) I'll have the entire ms. on a flash drive in my bag. Technology strikes again. The pressure to finish it increases every day since the man whose story it is turned 97 recently and he said he would like to see it. But first, now, I have to go to the recycle center.

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White horse has not had her baby yet. Still on Foal-Watch-Alert.

Art is as long as ever, but life is more interrupted and less available for a man's  woman's proper pursuits.
     Thoreau