It’s been an unproductive week, full of six week grading and doctors appointments. I have a slew of half bound books on my bench and there is the most tantalizing windblown branch buried too deeply in the snow outside to retrieve right now.
I went up to the studio today, but ended up puttering aimlessly, am just overloaded and cannot settle. Worn to a raveling and no more twist Simpkin.
So it was fortunate that my post delivered an amazing gift, “A Blighted Life: A True Story” by Rosina Bulwer Lytton. This is a modern reprint of the original text, I am so thrilled to have it, and yet, simultaneously guilty, for in all my busyness and money making I have left my poor mad women much neglected, never forgotten, but definitely pushed aside for more profitable enterprises. There is so much work building up inside of me, already a dozen new ideas are surfacing as I read. Maybe this is the impetus I need to get going again. So many thanks, dear sender, what a treasure.