No words these past days.
The vortex continues its all-consuming grip-- my cat has been at the vet for a week, and I don't know if she'll come home. And now my son just informed me tonight he needs surgery. Cat: surgery. Son: surgery. Too much, is what I say.
My question: if I go to the Southern Hemisphere, where centrifugal force moves in a direction opposite to that here in the Northern Hemisphere, can I possibly slow things down enough to enable me to step away from this ever-compounding chaos?
It's certainly worth a try.
Meanwhile the world spins on.
Spring is ridiculously hesitant in Seattle this year, weeks behind the expected relief of flowers in bloom. Morning dawns with a winter chill, and the rain just seems to go on forever. I hunch into the wind on my walk to work, a leopard-print umbrella offering meager protection.
I love my job.
We are hustling orders out the door,
and reorders trickle in steadily.
I crack the whip whenever there's a pause in production.
This afternoon while we painted, we listened -- on YouTube -- to Wanda Sykes and George Carlin. How can one fail to find cheer and optimism in laughter?
The brain is easily distracted, and for that I am grateful.