Tilly. When Neal and I started to date she was just a pup. I was smitten with her, and when the drive to CT from NY seemed too long after a hard week's work, I thought of the greeting I'd get from the mutt, and I didn't mind so much. I was all sorts of sad and heartbroken then, and there were so many evening when I would cuddle with Til and feel a little bit better. I contend that she, more than anything or anyone else, helped me to heal. She's smart and loves to please, but her best quality is her sense of humor. Until I met Tilly, I had no idea how much personality dogs have--she's quite the trickster, though, and loves to laugh along with her own jokes.
T is also for time. I used to complain about not having enough time; sometimes I catch myself at it even now. I try to bear in mind that I have as much time as the great artists I admire; it's a matter of using it well.
Which is why T is also for Treadmill Journal. I have friends who are far better at it than I am (Dana), and that helps to keep me at it; the Treadmill makes me be honest about how much and how effectively I'm working.
Lately T is also for tired. I haven't been sleeping well and have been a bit topsy turvy, so I feel foggy. I suspect part of that is anticipation for the upcoming semester. It's going to be a doozy.
A police car in front of our house at 3 a.m. caused the three dogs to bark a crazy incessant howl, waking me from a dream. I rarely remember my dreams, but in this one, I was at a beautiful country home where my handsome father was hosting some sort of yarny festivities. Guess who were among the attendees? Margene and Norma. I drifted off to sleep smiling and thinking that I had to remember this dream.
Who would you want to attend your yarny festivities? I wish I could have seen all of the guests--I'm sure you were all among them!