I was talking to the clay teacher from the college where I worked. I told him I was planning on going to school (elsewhere) this fall, and he gushed enthusiastically about the art department there, recommending teachers and classes. Everywhere I go, I run into something that tells me what a great thing this is to do.

In going through things during the Great Pretend-To-Unencumber of 2010, I opened a box labeled “linens.” I was totally shocked to actually find a box full of linens, old sheets and dishtowels and aprons from my mother and my grandmother. They look like rags to anyone else, but to me they are my childhood. And while I was washing clothes this morning I saw the box and thought what a great thing to have on my bed away from home – these old sheets that have been in my memory for so long.

And just so you know that I’m serious about being the oddball around here;

The neighbor’s house, and then mine. (Actually, my neighbors are the oddballs in this town. I can’t believe how many houses have yards filled up to spilling over onto the sidewalks and the streets here. It’s claustrophobic to me, being spoiled on the wastes and fields of my old town, but then again I am exactly the sort of person to overfill her yard…)