Thursday, November 15, 2012

Long days at the glass factory.

I come home feeling beat up yet happily worn out from laughing, my hands too sore to type.

Every day between now and Christmas is booked. We ship for the Atlanta wholesale gift show on December 20th, so I've rescinded the order to cancel Christmas day. Thanksgiving? I intend to show my gratitude as a guest, delighted that I'm not hosting this year.

Meanwhile, there are clams to be dug this weekend at Pacific Beach, and chowder to be simmered. Bread dough set to rising. And miles to go before I sleep.

And miles to go before I sleep.


  1. I like the sound of 'clam digging'. I would enjoy that.

  2. The only other sound's the sweep/of downy wind and snowy flake --

    And I, too, adore the sound of clam digging. And the thought of chowder makes my mouth water --

  3. I think of Susan's posting of Louise Erdrich's poem when I contemplate the list, the miles to go. Whether it is my stamina or focus that has altered I am not sure. I just know I let sleep come much sooner than I once did. And yes to the clams and chowder. xo