So, I’ve been a little quiet. It’s been across the board, really, the quiet that has settled on me over the last few months. I feel thoughtful, and also as though my mouth is full of marbles. It would be a mistake to open it, and the sensation is weird but manageable.
I also haven’t been much into… well, much. Other than knitting tiny sweaters. I’ve been nuts for tiny sweaters – and fortunately, people have been obliging by having babies. There are a couple more coming up, and I just can’t tell you how adorable these things are when they’re under construction. Look at the tiny cable!
Just look at it!
I finally tricked myself into getting some reading done by picking up some fiction. And not even really good fiction. I spent the first two months of the year slogging through two giant presidential biographies (want to see what I’m reading? Here you go! Let’s be book friends on Goodreads!) and I apparently needed a palate cleanser. I’m reading more Asimov now, and it’s like crack. Institutionally sexist crack.
Is anyone even reading this? I am pretty sure I need to assess the reasons why I still believe in blogs. It might just be to keep my memories in one place, but then I’m going to have to start writing more about my memories. Perhaps it is like the reading, though, and I just have to trick myself into getting interested.