Let us write to one another until the cows come home. A notecard from Patty.
I found a ruler for fifty-three cents--the better to measure you with.
A belated Juneteenth postcard from a once-upon-a-time bff. Segregated members of the WACs. Thanks, T.!
More handmade envelopes. They need letters, but not today. Today is hump day.
This is from the other day. There's no mail-writing on this hump day.
Great conversation starters to help a limner make it through hump day. Wear these, and Uber will pretend you're invisible.
Designed to cute-up some camel toes, huh? The perfect shoes for Hump Day! I want one with double humps!
Then there's the monkey see, monkey do pair.
I chose these. They're as lovely as can be. JC scoffed. Said they're prison shoes. So, I put them back. Am writing this in bare feet, just so you know. And I think my fingers are arthritic. Some of them feel like they are. But what do I know, having never had arthritis before? Two or maybe three of my drawing fingers buzz, the index has little bee stings of pain--more interesting than painful, but there's also a little knob in the same spot where I hacked away a button of flesh, right down to the bone that wasn't there before. Kneading an eraser isn't as easy as before either. I have to write through pen spasms, and if I persevere, the letters flow like before.
Drawing is something I miss. It's the one thing I believe I've been pretty good at. "Use it or lose" it is true. I'm so rusty I can taste it. It's time to draw something every day now instead of writing so much. My fingers have let go of some of their drawing memory. Then again, I have the gall to believe I can "draw it without seeing it." Draw what you know! That's ingrained . . . I had the idea that I'd like to wear my "peasant" blouse, a favorite ankle length ruffled skirt with the front hem tucked into the waist band, the better to see my half-laced combat boots and striped leggings. I will be an old lady with sass. I might not be able to tie the laces in my boots, but by golly they'll have a spit shine, and my braids will have their ends tied with colored strings . . .
Heck. It's hump day. I refused to write a single letter all day. I wrote one last night though, and JC mailed it after the mail man had come and gone. It's hump day.
I have plans. This is what I'm gonna do. I'll wear my costume, stand on the bottom step of the stairs, and take a picture. I'll be my own model, yes?!! Yes! Then I will draw a better, older, more decorative me. Otherwise how can I draw what I don't know? Oops. Wait. Houston, we have a problem! I don't own a pair of combat boots! Perhaps rain boots will do? Heck, it's Hump Day.