dancing puppies and the worry poppet

A few shots from Zoya's recital on Saturday.

(Zoya in center, ears flying.)

A new steam punk poppet car, collaboration with Bent.

Poppet 'worry doll' in a box. When I was a little girl there was an elderly lady living down the street. Mrs. Brewer. Her backyard was surrounded by an ancient grey fence with porcelain nails. My brother and I marveled at the smooth concavity of these strange nails. The bottom of this Poppet feels just like that, cold and smooth. It's hard to stop touching it. So I turned it into my version of the 'worry doll.' My own will live on my desk, but if that doesn't work, under my pillow she goes.

I feel a bit like I'm made of lead. I keep reminding me that this will go away. I know that's true . We can always count on things changing. So I work a bit, and rest a bit. Weird schedule, but it can work in summer. There is at least that.
And books. And cable. Oh Sookie. Oh Bill. You've made a sad human chuckle.