My supercool hat. Made primarily of romney sheep's wool, with white angora dots, silk swirls, and mohair curls.
Got upstate for happy bunny time. Shoveled lots of snow and shit (but rabbit poo is basically processed grass). Felted a hat. Had a snow fight. Took the train.
And good news: I'm assistant directing a reading of a new play this spring, working with a director I respect and getting paid for it. This is why I hung around for so long, working for free, living in uncertainty, smelling like cheese. I'm excited. This tells me I've started to put down enough roots in New York to start working for real, that people think of me when there's a job to do. I've been appraised as artistically valid. I was just getting to this point when I left DC, and it's one of the reasons I had for not leaving (along with charming companionship, cakelove, Ethiopian food, Heller's bakery, etc) but passion and the desire to have a more regular love/sex life won that battle.
This doesn't mean I'm giving up the cheese.
I finally got my kombucha photo up, with the hat. Apologies if anyone's been hanging on for those SGDC game night photos (and I do think there were good ones of everybody there). I didn't realize the camera was set on superfine resolution, and they're too big to upload. So you can tell me what I need to do to resize them on my geriatric computer (it's eight now) or I can just email the photos to interested parties.
Edited to add: I really think there's a Great Horned Owl in my neighborhood. I hear it calling hoo hoo-oo hoo fairly frequently, so I looked up the call and I think that's what it is. This explains why there are not so many pigeons around here.
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but it's also a cheese that's not very bad to travel with. I'm sorry, but life really is lacking something when you don't have any aged Gruyere.
I actually don't complain about this much, but for the last 10 or so years, I've just notice the same patterns even when I think I really had a chance with a girl. I just became tired and jaded.