So far it has been a so-so week. Barely. I had a great vacation, but now I can't seem to get it together. There is a pile of work to be done but I don't have a lot of motivation in that department. I need to be the master of needle and thread today (two wicked old Italian "cards" with strung beads showing floral patterns and three painted turkey feathers -- yeah, I know, painted turkey feathers) and the pile of unpaid bills on my desk is taunting me. Loudly. I am allowing it to feel like a very heavy burden. Plus there is a shitstorm brewing with several downtown merchants about the Festival of the Arts and I sense I may be coming out of retirement from that committee. Bleh. After a week of walking thousands upon thousands of miles, I don't feel much like running. Instead I am working my way through John Sandford's Lucas Davenport books (finished the first one on the plane home and am on the fourth one now -- I know, I've only been home for 4 days). My wardrobe would much rather I run than slob on the couch reading. The worst thing of all is I can't think of anything to paint. I am all washed up. I need a big old boost in the confidence department.
However, I do have one great thing going for me. I love my dog. She is such a happy camper, and she makes me smile. Everybody should have a poodle-face, although none would be as good as mine. None could POSSIBLY be as good as mine.