So, here I sit the morning after, in my gourded black knit dress. My hair, piled upon my head, in a tight bun. My thighs are exposed for the heat of the day gathering outside the blinds. The skirt's gathered up around my my legs & waist. I've the perfect dress on for the night & morning I've just lived through! Having discovered this star fish net-y thing in my backpack, on the way to brunch, it was the right weight and frame to my lines for breakfast. I love the look and am thrilled at the reflection which passes me in the hall as I make my way to the kitchen, tactile cuiing all the way, reminding myself this is what I've been doing. Polishing. I'm comfortable in my skin, & I'm headed there to write.

To write! Having felt the call of the keyboard to my soul. See, If, I can imagine blogging as a form of writing and therefor somehow not only therapeutic for the remapping in my fingers and so, rehabilitating. All the while being supportive to this brilliant thing I'm a part of the Little Red Studio. That seems it all lends support to the theory I'm running with, to keep moving and breathing and practicing.

Write a little each day, move each day walking or yoga or rehab exercises, paint / write / sing each day. Nourish the soul, tend your garden and be with one another. Share lovingness! It staves off at least the loneliness, and lack of reflection, by discerning eyes, and makes joy vibrations!. And this pleases me, the picture I imagine of me writing at the window. Celebrating Stephanie, my pink princess, and playing with Kelly, her jen doll, last night and this morning. So it went, show, party, boys and girls, and spending the night, to get up and go to brunch on this glorious Seattle morning! And now here I sit. Inside, away from the sun. Alone to contemplate the day.

Kept company by that growing numb patch above my eye, it gives me pause. It's broadening borders seem to tickle finger like, vexxing me for the numbness I feel. I am at a loss to express the sense of impending doom, I experience. (boo)

So, it has been 10 years, and I am still walking and self directed. Just this morning, I had a close friend tell me the hi esteem that he holds for me in, for continuing to do so, in spite of my illnesses plethora of awareness opportunities (all that crap I don't care to dwell on, at present)

Last night there was a show, at the studio. It was my first performance in, wow, I guess i'll have to look it up, except I'm not hugely keen on keeping real track of it, but needless to say at least since the surgery. I had fun and trusted, did some older work, did some newer, and did a collaborative cello, bondage aerial piece. It felt good! The images of Sophia swinging through the air and smiling, along with my words and knowing all that went into the writing of the piece, was truly thrilling to be a part of presenting.


This morning I'm wiped out but still moving lending support to the theory it was the anemia had me slowing to a stop in the water, thus sending me to the sugery. Hmmm? I wonder what is on the horizon.

Summertime? I'm trying to sing a lot more these days!

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