Journalizing, is there such a word? Blog. Now this is a word. A record kept can be personal or not. It can be real or not. It can be lost. It can be kept. It can be read never or it can be read always. It is a worry, for sure.
What if someone pulls the plug. I guess it does not matter, really, because we will go back to basics and if my plug gets pulled so will everyone's plug be forever gone.
I live in a house in the mountains with a tiny town nearby, it is amusing if I tell you what goes on in my "real" life. But, alas, I can not, for if I did, you would wonder why I live here.
I have been waiting for 10 years for a visit from someone. I can not move until she comes. I have the same number as I did then, I also have a cell phone which follows me wherever I go.
I built my house, my honey and I, nail by nail. I love this land. This is what I do it's love the land. The deer eat my sunflowers. That is ok by me. They just had another baby. The mother bear sat in the middle of my gravel road until my husband stood up. The mother ran the other way and three baby cubs came out of the woods to quickly follow mama bear. I have about a million purple coneflowers in bloom, right now. The Sumac is turning red. Some yellow leaves are reminding me that fall is close at hand, at least the trees think it is.
Yesterday, I dyed some more yarn with cochineal bugs and it came out much darker and redder because I added cream of tartar. The first batch turned pink because I strained the dye with an old metal strainer which I am sure is tin. I see how anything can change the results, this is the same with life, in general. I guess I need to think about this.
I have been playing with my Kindle HD taking photographs in HD and altering them. It really is quite fun. It is very different from using a regular camera. I am folding paper and fabric today.
I think about when I lived in the desert, the San Francisco Bay, and near the beaches of SOCA. I am thinking about my family.
