String & Stories

We rose and shone with vigor and purpose today, rather earlier than I’d have liked.  We dropped $50 on gas and went to the Black Sheep Gathering, where I strolled around with my darlin’ as she ooed and ahed over various fleeces, fibers, yarns, and a variety of obscure ornate devices that one may use to change these things from their natural state to that of, say, a one piece body suit or felted hedgehog.  Then she and a like-minded crony sat down to practice their arts and I took me to a coffee shop.

So I could practice my art.

There was a dearth of blood sugar in there someplace, where I tried to be fussy and self-abusive, but a snack and micro-nap on the lawn fixed that, and here I am, pretending to be productive but instead nattering on to the aether.

There could have been nobbing about with my cronies today, but the time window was too small and the time table too undefined. Better to have less weekend, but less stress, too.

So. Time to crack the whip over me.

Crossposted from Epinepherine & Sophistry

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