This is post number 494 and I'm working on a couple of prize ideas for when I reach 500, and, because they're *ideas* at the moment, there's no way I can take a picture of them. Don't think anybody would want to see the inside of my brain!
So guess what? It's a mumble-day (again). Poor you.
- Can anyone tell me why it is that I feel honour-bound to trudge on that stupid treadmill every night? I hate the thing. I hate exercise. I hate spending time on something that isn't creative. And don't go trying to tell me that it's good for me. Sigh.
- Spent the day yesterday with #1 son which was nice. He took us to Kensington Market while he shopped for supper-makings (convenient that we have a car to carry all his loot!). We went to a marvelous spice shop where they sold all kinds of exotic coffees and teas, which all smelled soooo good. Then a cheese shop. Talk about sensory overload...the smell in there was over-the-top good AND they would let you have little slivers of any cheese you wanted to taste. I didn't want to leave. Then we went to a bread bakery. 'Nuff said!
- he cooked supper for us last night with all the nice fresh produce he had picked up. How did I ever get so lucky as to have a son that's a chef?
- Another of life's little mysteries I would like to have explained is why, when there's a whole day on the calendar with nothing written in and the plan is in mind to spend it all creating, the entire day manages to get putzed away with a grand total of maybe ten minutes of it in the studio? It's like when you come into a bit of money and that little black cloud that follows you around promptly sends his slimey little fingers down and snatches it away before you can do anything fun with it!
- and can anybody explain why it is that the dog's water dish by some miracle unknown to man always manages to empty itself the very second your butt sits itself down...generally when you're in the studio and finally getting two minutes to yourself?
- and further on the subject of dogs, can anybody explain why the male-type members of the household have selective eyesight and hearing when it comes to dogs wanting out? Why is it that I (in the basement) can hear the anguished trot of a dog going back & forth to the door upstairs when the one who is closest to the door doesn't?
- darn it, I haven't heard that dreaded treadmill blow up in the last few minutes, so I guess I'd better go trudge. I don't have to like it....