Since returning from my little vacation in Seattle, I've been very busy but have accomplished almost nothing. At least nothing of substance.
A crafting project that had made a total mess of its own in the studio is, however, now completed. My inventory of this particular item had been almost entirely depleted, so I had to replenish stock before the show season starts. And a good thing, too, because the day I finished restocking, I received a nice wholesale order. With that out of the way, I can focus on adding to my jewelry stock, which was also depleted after last season. I can't really complain!
I've received confirmation of my acceptance into two more art shows for this season, bringing the total right now to three. Last season I did eight (I think) and that really was too much for me to do by myself. I'm limiting this year to six definite (if I'm accepted into the other three) plus two more possibles, only because three of the definites will require much less set-up labor than last year. And if the two possibles don't work out, it's no big deal.
But then there is the really important stuff.
My intentions to read and to write got shoved aside. . . mostly. I haven't even had time to sort out what books to read for Halloween Bingo, though there are a few fairly obvious ones in my collection. My promise to myself is not to go looking for books to add to the existing library for Bingo, but to read only items already on hand.
Now if only the freebie offerings wouldn't show up in my email every morning!
I do manage to get in at least half an hour of focused reading each evening, by which I mean no distractions, no interruptions. I'm trying to finish David Corn and Michael Isikoff's Russian Roulette before my last digital library renewal runs out.
The writing, however, has been almost completely sidelined. My sole accomplishment in that area has been to collect, sort out, and transcribe most of the hand-written notes that have been scattered about the house. The dozen or so pages of text for Forgotten Magic, alas, have not turned up; the only conclusion is that somehow I threw them away in my cleaning zeal just before vacation. Almost all the rest has been taken care of, and my plan is to finish the rest of it before this week is over.
Part of the reason for not writing lies in the lack of reading. I write more when I read more. So I'm hoping that situation will change as I sort through more of the chaos that seems to have accumulated over the summer.
Another huge project staring me in the face - and directly related to the chaos - is the clutter. The junk. The stuff that's been hoarded over the years (decades?) under the malicious twin rubrics of "Don't throw that away; I might need it someday" and "Wait, set that aside; I think I can make something out of it." At present, it's still too hot to spend very much time in the workshop, where the bulk of the "stuff" is stored, but daytime temperatures are hovering around 100 now rather than 110, and nights occasionally dip all the way down into the (upper) 70s, which means summer is winding down. I'm at least able now to make some plans on what to do with the "stuff" -- and that means throwing some of it away.
As mentioned above, I've cleaned up most of the assorted writing bits and scraps, and the crafting project that migrated from the studio to the house in its final stages has been dealt with. Summer is the time when I fold lots and lots and lots of paper squares for my origami jewelry boxes, so that stuff is in little stacks everywhere. Now I'm starting to assemble them and move them back to the studio, thus cleaning up various little messes here and there. Slowly, slowly, slowly, order will be returned. Maybe.
But as I sit here waiting for a load of laundry to finish in the dryer, I can't help thinking how lovely it would be to crawl back in bed, prop a couple fat pillows behind me, and just read the day away.