Solidarity

Yep, that's exactly what cooked carrots taste like.

Fresh carrots in everything but cooked carrots gag me too.  

Life has been a riot of fun lately.  I'm catching up after a lot of road miles.  

My studio is waiting, my Muse tapping her foot, threatening to take a vacation.  Right, she's not going anywhere with the stuff we have going, until it's done.  She changes her perches, sometimes on the flex shaft, dangling her feet; sometimes I can find her rolling around in the enamel powders, "This one, she says, this one next."   Why is a muse so often female? Especially since I can appreciate a bossy guy, shouldn't my muse be male?  

Just one of the many questions of the day.

I went to a free mini-workshop put on by an organization called HAI (Human Awareness Institute).  It was an interesting two hours in which a group of strangers became, not friends, but not strangers in those two hours.  As a closet introvert I'm usually drained by groups of people.  You'd probably never know it because I genuinely like people but afterwards I usually retreat to someplace to recharge.  I walked out of that room and found that I wasn't drained, that I had been given as much as had been offered.  I will eventually be taking one of their weekend workshops and look forward to experiencing all that they have to teach me.

Peace