Matt is back at work and kicking medical butt. He trounced a neonatal resucitation test which stymied some of his fellow residents, and he's solving tough cases at the hospital. His spirits are great and his health seems excellent. YAY!!!
We were talking last night about creative expression. I used to be a pretty good writer - I have won awards and garnered some minor publication - but I am most prolific when I'm unhappy. Following my divorce I was cranking out 1-2 interesting stories a week. Now I'm blissfully happy, but I haven't written anything decent in years. I had a cool dream two months ago and felt compelled, but in written form it was utter dreck. Awful. My Kaplan essays are servicable, but hardly lyrical. My blog entries here (I'm sure you've noticed) resemble the overpunctuated dribbles of a highschooler.
I'm so happy I found fiber art. You always hear about tortured poets, but nobody's ever said you have to be miserable to spin a good literal yarn, just a literary one. It seems the more content I am, the more driven I am to experiment with my wheel and needles. So here's some 50%/50% Angora bunny/Corridale wool. Matt calls it Shabbit.
I love my life!
1 comment:
I think you're quite lyrical and have a lush and luxuriant vocabulary ;-) You also have a lush and luxuriant bottom... but I digress.
I'm glad you're happy!
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