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I talked to my mom on the drive in this morning, as I often do. She says, "Look, I'm really sorry, I don't know where my brain's been." My Dad isn't leaving for vacation til next week. HE can watch Clue. That way, I'll bat my lashes and beg Larry to take her NEXT weekend.
Then, an email from Miscelena that no, she and the bink'n'Beth show will not be on the road this weekend, leaving me a comparative oasis of time to finish her corset. Relatedly, while working on the silk for it last night, I slid into drooling lust with the colour, which, under my halogens at home, comes out this cross between cocoa and gold. I'm not usually into browns, but this is particularly elegant and lovely. Here under the fluorescents, however, and in sunlight, it's green. I think I may have to go with gold for the ribbons.
I hope this means I'll have time to finish Foxglove's birthday present, which is already almost a week late. Sigh.
And oh, I may even get some sleep. I swear, sleep's becoming a holy grail. I had a nightmare yesterday morning that woke me in sheer terror: I was in a car, and I seemed to be driving, but I was in the passenger seat, and I don't remember seeing a steering wheel. I was going very fast. I turned to hug my dog, who was in the back seat, and when I looked back, a huge truck was backing into the road in front of me, across my lane. I was instantly struck stupid and terrified, and I thought, "Well, this is it." I felt the car pick up speed. And I blinked, or turned, or something, the car jerked, and the truck pulled in again-- somehow, we missed it. I suppose I must've been in the wrong seat-- I slid awkwardly over and grasped the wheel, and just as I got control, woke. In heart-pounding dread and fear.
A few days before, I was in a house-- possibly the one in which I grew up-- and it was pouring rain outside. And inside. I was running around trying to catch all the terrible leaks, but I couldn't seem to stop the damage and the flooding. Yet I remember the sky was blue.
I seem fated to wake every morning between 5.30 and 6.30, somehow. I wish I could just sleep.
Then, an email from Miscelena that no, she and the bink'n'Beth show will not be on the road this weekend, leaving me a comparative oasis of time to finish her corset. Relatedly, while working on the silk for it last night, I slid into drooling lust with the colour, which, under my halogens at home, comes out this cross between cocoa and gold. I'm not usually into browns, but this is particularly elegant and lovely. Here under the fluorescents, however, and in sunlight, it's green. I think I may have to go with gold for the ribbons.
I hope this means I'll have time to finish Foxglove's birthday present, which is already almost a week late. Sigh.
And oh, I may even get some sleep. I swear, sleep's becoming a holy grail. I had a nightmare yesterday morning that woke me in sheer terror: I was in a car, and I seemed to be driving, but I was in the passenger seat, and I don't remember seeing a steering wheel. I was going very fast. I turned to hug my dog, who was in the back seat, and when I looked back, a huge truck was backing into the road in front of me, across my lane. I was instantly struck stupid and terrified, and I thought, "Well, this is it." I felt the car pick up speed. And I blinked, or turned, or something, the car jerked, and the truck pulled in again-- somehow, we missed it. I suppose I must've been in the wrong seat-- I slid awkwardly over and grasped the wheel, and just as I got control, woke. In heart-pounding dread and fear.
A few days before, I was in a house-- possibly the one in which I grew up-- and it was pouring rain outside. And inside. I was running around trying to catch all the terrible leaks, but I couldn't seem to stop the damage and the flooding. Yet I remember the sky was blue.
I seem fated to wake every morning between 5.30 and 6.30, somehow. I wish I could just sleep.