Well, well.

I don’t seem to have anything left over at the ends of days to write lately; it’s really busy.  I went off to teach in Dallas last weekend, and we beaded during the days and tore up the town in the evenings. I only wish I could tell you (or frankly even properly recall) the excitements. I did come away with a photograph of a VERY grumpy nude, some incredible video from class, and a very warm heart from the opportunity to meet people I had become beady-close to through their work, and their emails.

It was just wonderful. Every minute of it.

Don’t let the sour look on this painting’s face put you off of Dallas.

Grumpy Nude

Mere hours after I made it home, the books arrived, and thankfully it was a nice warm dry day.


They were stacked by Ocean Tiss (model and muscle) in rivers along the walls of the entry, living, and dining room, four and five high. I opened them as he laid them out, so that it was easy for us in production. Opening boxes sucks when what you want to do is pick up a stack of books.

Ocean helping with boxes

Over the past three days, Sandy, AJ and I have been converting the cartons of books from the press into cartons of finished mail; it’s going unbelievably smoothly.  It’s almost like I’ve done it before; suddenly, not even double the quantity phases me. Sandy said tonight, when she left, “When I first walked in and saw all of those boxes, I thought, impossible!”  Admittedly there were a lot of boxes. But the main chunk (the thousand domestic orders) is DONE. That’s right, DONE. They won’t all be picked up until Monday, but they are finished.

Now I am turning to the foreign orders, which will also all go out on Monday.

RIng Of Death

I contemplated being fearful of this week, or of looking at the boxes in despair, but it didn’t seem useful. Better to be overconfident in some cases than under. I was so foolishly fearless that I even threw in a knee surgery to make things more interesting. It worked out; the Knee Man is in fact the genius I thought he was and he barely even bruised me. It hurt for a few days, and honestly I’ve kind of forgotten it even happened now, it’s so fine. I am forbidden from swimming , which is infuriating, but hey.

Anyway, the timing was perfect; I sat around signing all of the clear plates and making labels for a few days, I did have to battle the fill-in mail carrier for my own packages (he would simply take everything on the porch when he came to get the Click & Ship; my Office Depot delivery, a UPS box, it was all fair game for him.) It was a crazy week, but I didn’t really care what happened, I was going to keep moving forward.

Orangelina finished molting, happily, and came out to play. I will admit that I was pretty worried about her; when she was crouching miserably behind the pool shed, I sat with her for a while. I suppose molting is unpleasant. She finished that, and I trimmed up the Lurk, and now she is as friendly as ever.I just can’t tell you how happy I was to see her.

She has a new lover; I named him Grassmaster Flash.


Life rockets onward.

Mere hours after the last box goes out from Tucson, I get on a plane and go back to Boston, where I’ll meet up with a stack of friends, my entire family, and we’ll all head out for dinner and a Ferry show.

I’m enjoying every minute with the cats, the lizards (the cats I will see in November, for a visit, but the lizards…probably not until Spring). I feel delightfully empty; there is a ton of room inside my head, my heart.

5 thoughts on “whirl

  1. Awww, Kate. As you put the final touches on this project I realize that it’s journey has barely begun. Where you have stopped we are anxiously waiting to begin.
    We have been greedily consuming every nugget of information you have thrown our way with the knowledge that soon we will be able to see this book in its entirety.
    In as much as producing this lovely book has been a sort of birthing process for you, we in turn are the aunts and uncles. We have been preparing for this day, collecting our beads, lining them up, going over the colours and reorganizing everything over and over while visions of zig wigs and mowglis and ric racs dance in our heads. We will take the book in hand, feel it and look over every page and then because of your nurturing soul we shall create.
    I thank you for what you have given me.

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