Wow. I'm a poet and didn't know it.
Seriously, I've been so busy that I can't see straight. Take that, add to it my being out of remission again, and you have all the makings for a difficult time. I received a letter from a new artist (well, she's not new - she's been waiting for months) to the shop, and she listed all the excuses (read: reasons) I've given her as to why her work hasn't been listed. She's absolutely right on every single point she listed. I've been horribly remiss in listing several people, and it's just from all the things which have conspired to keep me from doing my job and doing it right. If you're an artist who is still waiting for your work to be listed, please forgive me and hang in there. We're almost there. I'm not going to continue listing reasons; I'm just going to do it.
On the brighter side of life, my knitting group is going really, really well. It varies from week to week how many people show up, but the ladies whom I've met are absolutely wonderful. I really enjoy going. It's the first time I've enjoyed being with a group of women and enjoying myself, as well as looking forward to the next meeting. I have nothing but terrific things to say about all of them.
To Polli, who left an absolutely hysterical comment to my last post, you made me snort coffee out my nose. Thank you for a much-needed laugh.
It looks like our Emma is going to be a TV star! During our last meeting, the owner of the place where we take her for grooming came in (our meetings are held in the local coffee shop). I introduced myself, and he told me about his wanting to make a video featuring Emma, Bella (another Bully), and a few other funny dogs as an advertisement for his business. I guess Emma runs around and shoves her way through the mad pack (he has a playground for the dogs where he puts them for boarding and/or after they've been groomed and are waiting to be picked up) in order to greet and play with the other dogs. I thought she would be shy around strange dogs, but she isn't. He says she's funny as hell. That big, hard head of hers comes in handy for banging open doors and getting to where she wants to go, including here at home. She's glued herself to Hubster when she wants to sleep and to me when I'm walking around the house. She's also gotten bigger and broader - quite large for a female. We absolutely adore her. I think she misses the snow, but it's supposed to snow on Sunday. It's soft on her big, webbed-toed feet.
I've been hobbling around the house for a week now. My right foot and ankle are blown up to the size of a balloon; it's painful to even flex my ankle or touch my foot. My left knee has also gone out, which tells me that the disease has landed there and is eating away. I've been remiss in finding a pain doctor and have a short time in which to do it now. My meds run out in a month, and I don't want to go into withdrawal. I also don't want to drive for 10 hours to go to my old doctor. Sigh. I hate having to find a new doctor, and I also don't have the time to fuck around with this. But do it I must.
I got notification in the mail today that my SP13 pal's package has arrived! It's something special, something she made for me, and I can't wait to get it, see it, and find out who she is. She's been the best pal and an absolute doll, and I can't thank her enough for everything she's done for me. I'll be posting pictures of what she sent. We got to the post office after it closed and found the notice in our box, so Hubster will be there when they open to pick it up. Yay!
I'm boring tonight - no funny stories, nothing interesting going on - just buying things for the house (I got a huge pot rack and a gorgeous antique - Art Deco from the late 40's - sideboard), so I apologize for that. I have two pairs of socks on the needles and a cabled Gansey sweater which I try to work on at night. My Tarot readings went really well this past weekend, and I even had one woman stop to ask me for my URL. She thought I was interesting and wanted to learn about me. That's a first. Usually, people run away from me shrieking loudly. The owner of the shop where I read and his partner have invited us to dinner tomorrow night, so we're happily going (his partner is an amazing cook, and I'm bringing dessert). It should be a fun evening and a wonderful break from unpacking.
I thought I was taking forever to unpack and put the house together until I heard from a lady who took over seven years to do it. Now I feel absolutely speedy. If I felt better, I could do more, but I don't, so I can't. Hubster has that pesky job he has to work at during the day, which sort of puts a crimp in my getting him to help me. Here it is, 11:00 p.m., and I haven't even cooked dinner or cleaned the kitchen. He's working in my studio right now. Shit.
So it's off to make dinner and then work on the room some more. Tomorrow is baking/photographing/listing day, as are the weekend nights (and probably Sunday, if it really snows - downtown tends to literally close down when it snows). I love it.
Maybe tonight, I won't run face-first into the pots hanging from the ceiling.