Warmth

Whenever we wear,
Whistling with winter winds,
Warm woolen wishes.


Icy winds this morning, all the day. Another problem attempted, failed, a walk through the cold, fixed. Women from work stopped by as we all finished at the same time. Moby, as usual, unexpectedly social, came out to greet, even headflopped to be stroked. Followed us from room to room, showing them his house. Good to have people here, room to have them in our home. Our stories out in our things. Tomorrow, our little open house, with cake.

D wants posters up in the Music Room, we discussed - as we do. He thought about Kirby art, I suggested Usagi Yojimbo, we talked about movie posters - but which movie? Then art, something we genuinely like, avoiding pretension. He though about John Singer Sargent, a feature of our sojourn in Boston - the Gardener Museum in particular, when I was inspired by El Jaleo - one of his favorites there. Finding it in poster/print form is not as easy as hoped, but we have a few leads.

Next week, very slow at work. Time to clean and sort, fix and, oh I so hope, to write. To write about more than repairs and projects.