the little house that could

i'm not exactly sure how much my return was awaited by anyone else, but for me, it is a happy occasion. As I mentioned earlier I've been very busy visiting with company, all of whom I love very much and would not trade for diamonds, except for that one just awful relation who knows exactly who they are who I might trade for a lump of coal ... but... otherwise... uhuuum ... yeah.

anyway, it is not a secret among my close friends that I possess the introverted and introspective tendencies of "Hermit," card number 9 in the major arcana of the Tarot and also the day of my birth, my birth number in numerology, and also the number of steps from my refrigerator to the couch while balancing one carton of Hagen Daz vanilla ice cream and a bowl in one hand, and a bottle of Hershey's chocolate syrup and a spoon in another... okay ...big steps, mind you. Isn't that interesting, though? Who knew?

as such, you have probably surmised where I am going with this or you, dear reader, could care less ... either way, there is a purpose to this obvious musical-chair style explanation of things (I can just see you eyeing that chair as you time the length of my babbling)... and what I am saying is; I much prefer long, wordless, morning jaunts with my dogs in the woods than hours of talking and visiting with my loved ones. Sad as that may seem to some, I am really quite happy in my silences, exuberantly so, in fact. Be that as it may ... I do love to write and perhaps that is my way of transforming wordlessness into talking hours on end like a teenager, without really talking hours on end at all ... if you know what I mean.

which brings me to today... a gorgeous misty morning which has been spent roaming with dogs for the most part. I've also enjoyed a double-tall latte at Starbucks already, hand-wrestled with two very energetic and playful parrots, called a friend, done three loads of laundry, made a bank run and stared expectantly at a pile of dirty dishes on the counter. I also moved furniture ... the wing-back chair that stuck out too far in the living room, moved there to accommodate extra people, has returned to it's rightful place in the computer room, the bed that filled up the computer room has been humped back upstairs past the parrot condo to it's rightful place in the loft. I've also chugged down three extra strength Tylenol.

in my office, which looks a little worse for wear in the two weeks that I've neglected it, I've prepared jewelry for shipping, answered customer service emails, paid bills, attempted to organize receipts and ended up lumping them all in a file entitled (Receipts and Stuff).... and finally, plopped down at my desk to knock out a blog post, fingers pumping away at 90 wpm while parrots sit on my hands and try to pop keys off the keyboard. Finally, the mind quiets, the fingers stop and my eyes droop. I start to scribble on an envelope and then it's lunchtime. Quite alot for one morning.

I think it's probably a good thing I don't have a boss. He or she would certainly love to pay me (don't you think) to be slumped over my desk, staring off into space, dabbling here and there with no sense of direction or discipline ... but golly what a creative employee! "Just look at her doodles!" I can just hear them say. "Isn't she brilliant?" Why yes. She certainly is! Everyone says so.

oh, well, I say, locking up the studio and heading back up to the house for a salad. The sun's blazing away. Construction still goes on two lots over. Dogs tagging along at my feet. Out on the deck, Vera begs for McVitties Irish Biscuits, the cat sleeps just inches away in the red chair. I swing open the back door and peer into my kitchen... the little house that could hums in silent reverie. Isn't life just grand? I think so.

With love, ~L
.