I had an epic day in the darkroom today: 30 prints from my last roll of film, and lots of them quite good. I have to sort through them for a few keepers for my final portfolio for photography; I think I'm almost done.
It was the last slip pouring day in ceramics, so I brought a couple of my molds home. I also made a bird feeder (well, most of one) and strung up all the kitties for the Girlhood piece. I need to find an 18x18 shadowbox with a frame. Somewhere.
As I drove up to the house, Rosie's new friend Ted and his mum were walking up to see if Rosie wanted to play, which she did. She and Ted had a good romp in the yard, but he still won't play in the pool with her, no matter how much she tries to get him to come in. I like Ted's mum; she's nice and roughly my age (everybody else in the neighborhood is older) and a little weird. She was oo-ing and ah-ing over the house project, but she hasn't ever opened a wall and found 100-year-old dried feces plastered to rotting cardboard. I'm guessing she has never even thought about what it would be like if that were to happen, so far out of the realm of imaginable is such a thing.
Anyway, a nice quiet evening at home, with the dog socked out after her playtime, and a chance to read uninterrupted and without guilt, even if I should really be working on infinite series a bit more.
