Monday, November 2, 2009

Barely Taking a Breath

The problem with almost anything desirable and the good thing about anything less so is that after it's over, it's almost as if it never was. And a day of travel will harsh any mellow for sure (not that mine was especially odious; at least no more so than usual).

On the other hand, there's this:
I love it: I get to shop for a friend who can never make it to SOAR (she teaches. They may well frown upon a week's absence during the school year) so the theory is that I will get acquisitiveness out of my system by the simple act of buying fibre, though so far the effect has minimal to none.

I think I've been shopping for her for close to ten years now.

I'm pretty sure it's proof positive that I was there. True to form, I took no photos whatsoever, even though I should have.
To be fair, some of that mess is stuff from classes and gifts, and in the history of these things, it's actually pretty restrained.


Apart from the shopping - and most of what I love about SOAR is definitely apart from the shopping - I had a wonderful time as always. It's a sad indictment of my life that most of those dearest to me live somewhere else for the other fifty-one weeks of the year. Of course it does make that one week so very precious.

And then I had to be at work again today. Already.

I felt slow and thick.

The first of two home shows is this coming Sunday, which means that every free moment until then will be spent beading.
I managed two pairs of earrings this evening.
I'm kinda liking these rivolis with fringe beads and drops; I think I'll make some more, and possibly do a necklace with them too.

Luckily I'm at the bead store tomorrow evening, ostensibly teaching a class, though it may well work out to be a supplies acquisition expedition.


Spindlers2 said...

What she said......I'm sure you know which bit.

Laurie said...

I missed being there. I missed you always ensconced in the sofa, on the Nth reknit of whatever was in your lap at the time. I missed drinking out of the fire hose.

kim said...

I missed you, dear. And Amy and John and the rest of the St. Louis contingent.

And I know exactly what you mean about the other 51 weeks a year. Seems so odd not to have been there - kind of like I'm missing my left foot.