I know I haven’t posted in this in months, there were lots of things: my co-worker got really sick and tours were canceled and she’s getting better and there were holidays and things and I abandoned this thing and then I started writing a bunch in my spare time, which is under the circumstances copious, and now here we are, the last day of the year: I’m in a motel room in Ft. Lauderdale, really, cigarette burns in the bedspreads and all, taking care of a friend who just had top surgery, alternately knitting, reading Dickens, refreshing my email inbox, and apparently, posting to tumblr.
We will hopefully be back on tour in January. I am writing sonnets and making a hat and thinking about places. On Monday I will drive 11 hours and get home to a house we left the day after a rare Southern white christmas, to my surly cat and aging mead and poorly-organized to-do lists. In 2011 I plan to dabble in graphic design, learn to make bagels, and get better at not feeling threatened by people and things I think are cool. So.