Get to Work

Well, 54 Olds is here and on the design board. I have been staring at it deciding where to start. I got felt from Amazon as I am trying to avoid Joanns but I may have to go. 

I belong to a critique group 10 women (plus myself) we have been zooming but today was their first human get together in months. I would have loved to go and connect with all the creativity of the group but I cannot drive that far and the person I usually ride with is afraid of covid so I was not allowed to attend. Not even if I rode in the back seat and hung my head out the window like a dog. But it will be OK to sit within 6 feet of each other with a mask on, go figure. 

It makes me very sad. I have a feeling others think I have no feelings. It's ok to ignore me or treat me badly. Call me a bitch, so what. Tell me I'm too stupid to know what medicines my body will tolerate. Whatever.  Tell me to fuck off in the middle of the night? Again. So what. Maybe I have scars from all the bad treatment from my hospitalizations. 

I do have feelings. It makes me sad, confused, introspective and a little angry. What goes around, comes around.

But I did get 54 Olds backed and batted. Life will continue in it's vacuum. It'll be my Quilt National entry. Maybe it will get in. You never know. 

And I have my solo show at Zanesville Museum of Art in October to look forward to. I would have loved to tell them in person but no, denied sharing that joy. Oh well.

Survivor.