You know, you can laugh an awful lot playing Cards Against Humanity. I know the best people! All of my friends are way above average.
It’s foggy sunny foggy sunny rainy here. The usual costal weather.
Having a wonderful time.
So, you take this flat piece of silver with a design sawed into it.
Then you bend it into a not all that circular shape, making sure the ends are flush.
Then you apply fire and solder to make it into a continuous circle-ish shape. You are not overly concerned about how un-circular it is at this point. It is supposed to look like this. Really.
Since the fire has made all black, you pickle it to remove all of the oxidation from the heat. Then you put it on a ring mandrel and hammer it until it is round. This is very good stress relief unless you hit your finger.
Then there is filing. A lot of filing. And sanding. A lot of sanding. I am nowhere near through sanding.
Still. Even though it isn’t quite shiny yet, I have a circular ring with appropriately soldered joins.
It even fits.
So, what the fuck have I been doing all Summer?
It’s a fair question. It is.
Really, though, I haven’t been “doing” much at all. Metalsmithing. Reading. Driving up and down I-5. Buying silver wire. Raising my new children the Sea Monkeys. Being a smart ass.
Wondering. What-iffing. Being self-righteous. Being grateful. Seeing how beautiful things are.
Obviously, I haven’t been writing much. There are two reasons for that: time and pain.
I did something to my right arm in May. First I got a little elbow thing from writing over 2000 words in a day and also an elliptical workout. My elbow was displeased. When it had just about forgiven me, I forgot how to get off a bike and fell. Hard. On both elbows. My right one is still quite unhappy with me about the abrupt dismount, so writing has been an issue. Metalsmithing is not helping, but the class was expensive and I am enjoying it so..uh.
Pain has definitely caused me to put writing anything at all at a lower priority. I miss it, but I also missed not waking up in the middle of the night because the Ibuprofen wore off. Writing makes the pain much, much worse.
I had to cut way back.
Then there was Vashon. The island and the guy. That involves not only a lot of driving but a lot of conversation when we are apart. It takes up a lot of the time that I used to spend writing. Reading has also been impacted. I don’t think either of us expect to continue this level of communication forever, but we have been really enjoying getting to know each other. If Kismet and Chemistry went out of their way to hook us up, it seems like the least we can do is make an effort to really get to know each other.
These are all just excuses, I suppose.
If I really wanted to write, if I needed to write, I would figure something out. I could dictate, but I don’t write the same way when I talk as I do when I type. I tried. It was weird. If writing was my livelihood, I would make an effort to get used to dictating. If writing was my job, I would write in spite of the pain, or be more aggressive in getting it treated. (I can feel Vashon raising an eyebrow and pointing out that I haven’t even contacted my doctor and it’s been almost two months…)
So I guess I better stop the words right here tonight…