I've dropped off the face of the earth

"So, so long and thanks for all the fish" she said as she drifted over the side.

The way things are going, those might be the last words ever heard from me.

Between my exam-driven insomnia, which is resulting in a tremendously short fuse, I'm starting to fantasize in some of the scenarios that I get to discuss in my French class. If you were stranded on a desert island ... wouldn't that be wonderful right about now. Oh. Is that pause too long. I guess I drifted ... I kind of woke myself up when the drool puddled on my shirt. That lucid dreaming is going a bit too far.

Since I last checked in, I got a lot of shit stuff done. (CU-2 doesn't want me to be using language like that around the younger ones! Ooops.)

This last week was one of the quieter weeks I've had in the month of March. Looking ahead to April, it looks quiet on the week days. Stupid on the weekends though. (The Huz is co-teaching his final CPR classes before he can hang out his own shingle. I'm scheduled for not one, but two strategic meetings for two different organizations, plus a day-long workshop on kids on the ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder) range, and to boot, it's in French.

Better be eating my Wheaties!

Then there's Spring. And I see the freaking mud in the yard and I think about sneaking out at 3 in the morning to go and play in the mud and build raised garden beds and prepare the earth for I don't know what, because, if anything is like last summer, I went to my parent's cottage for three weeks during the height of the season and the skunks got my vegetables.

I promise myself this year will be different. I'll be successful to raise peas and lettuces and tomatoes. I won't be taking three weeks off straight (I have that week in December where I am needed at home after all) and something will sort it self out for child care so everyone's needs are cared for.

And then, there's part of a conversation I've had with PC about going back to drawing, and I mean really going back to drawing - not just the sketches I've been trying to work on based on her tutorials.

And the triggers of pangs of needing my own work space after reading an article from Meg Ruffman, actress-come-carpenter and tv-based handiwoman. And the pile of cardboard that I saw destined for the landfile outside the Timmy's down town. I know I could do something with it. I just need a place to stash the stuff and a space to sit down and draw and design.

I'm holding onto that illusion for now, at least. Or, maybe I can squelsh the feelings I've got for a while longer. I've got stuff to do that pays the bills.