I was planning to hurl myself into a new project. But instead I photographed a doodle from my notebook and played with it for an hour on Photoshop. Wine poured.
It’s my story. You can see my reminder: NO SWOOSHING. That’s not like “No Trespassing.” It’s a reminder of who I am. I once got stuck on a zipline in the Costa Rican rainforest, and this “dangling woman” image became a metaphor for all my endeavors. I don’t decide on something brilliant, then swoosh to the finish. I put one hand in front of the other and haul myself to the end.
I always expect that finishing one project successfully will swoosh me into the next one. But no.
First, there is all the adulting I put off “till Monday”: paying bills, making business calls, figuring out some damn error message on a household device. You know.
Then, there are those pomegranate skins in the freezer I’ve been saving for months. In the way now. Need to make some dye. (BTW, the results will not be pomegranate color.)
And there is snow on the ground, so — ice dyeing!
A great pile of my fabric arrived from Spoonflower. It requires washing and pressing. Then, decisions, decisions about what fabric to use for which project (even though I thought I had it figured out before I ordered).
Oh, someone contacted me about her links to the Barrett family. Maybe I should…
See? Three o’clock rolls around. My tools are idle. Tomorrow is another day.
P.S. “Zooming” is not the same as “swooshing.” Zooming is about being deep, deep into a project, when the real world falls away and nothing matters but finishing. Swooshing is… well, I can’t swoosh.