Sunday Seven February

I awoke, alone and cold. Sort of. It wasn’t as dark as it should have been but it wasn’t light. It was 6:30. And I wanted to sleep in. Truth be told I tried to fall back to sleep using all the tricks I knew. Recalling the nights dreams, praying & the Prayer List. But none worked this day as the light grew.

I checked the numbers after rolling out. It was between 12 & 15 upstairs and I went downstairs with a small case of the shivers, it was 15 there as well.

I am thinking in a Native American way with regard to the hot morning beverage. I set the kettle to high boil while I crush some sumac berries. Not too many for this is a CONTROLLED experiment.

I don’t want to pass out or start hallucinating before the stupid bowl afterall. A small to medium pinch crushed in a small ceramic mortar & pestal a friend gave me a long time ago. The berries gave a little pop and I poured the hot water for a five (5) minute steep. No sweetening agent.

I collect wardrobe from the Homeless Collection & assemble a costume or outfit for a day of work. Painting, carving and cleaning.

CLEANING ? ARE YOU CRAZY, EXPECTING COMPANY OR HAVE THE SUMAC BERRIES KICKED IN ?

Oh I know. For the record, cleaning is a distant third and highly unlikely. I did in fact notice in the early morning light downstairs some dust on the major bookcase. Note to self.

Another task I need to start addressing is my memoirs.

Also, if I start writing descriptives & narratives for my show binder (think PORTFOLIO). I am making two (2) aviarian kills with one toss of the rock.

So I made it back upstairs with my cup of experimental tea and this machine (laptop) to do some writing as the sun comes up with the light & warmth working in a wonderful concert of sorts.

I have a set of ear buds & I was humming some Ike Reilly so & opened the music program & The Best of Ike … So Far.

The experience is much different sitting quietly with things in the ears. There is a much higher appreciation of the lyrics, the stories they tell, the rhythms, melodies and the beat. When Irish Eyes are Burning moves quickly and is a great story. The Last Demonstration of Kara Dean is a slow, over easy slider. Fish Plant Uprising has a defining political message in the first versus … Don’t trust the government.

One bud falls out. I hear the seagulls, waves & sounds coastal. Patty gave me an alarm clock/radio that has sounds as an option. Apparently a default setting is seaside and I haven’t bothered to change it. So I know every morning, when the gulls squawk & squeal, the waves crash & break, that it is between 8:00 and 9:00 am.

So that is where I am at as I take this opportunity, this time to warm up, a pre-game skate for the day ahead.

I have neither idea or clue of an image to post this day.

Perhaps I will hold off until later today when the latest faux Mondrian is finished. It is so exciting when the mask comes off.

Thanks for being there, tuning in, listening and making those pledges & contributions.