Blueberries

Not getting enough sleep on Monday night messed up my whole day on Tuesday. I started another study and did enough to feel like I have not lost what I found at Dad's, went out and then felt really sleepy and came home and took a long nap, you know one of those naps where you sleep too long and still feel sleepy afterward. I went to bed early and feel better this morning. I am still up early every morning by 6:30 am at the latest, that's 5:30 for you in California, and it is still dark here.

The Boise museum called back, I missed the deadline for "Not Just a Pretty Face" by 2 weeks and am really disappointed. I sent them an email with my contact information for next year and some samples in case they are so impressed that they want to change their mind. My SCORE appointment is this afternoon, so I am working on my list of questions for them today. I started a list about doing business in Idaho, business licenses and taxes stuff, and a list about how to go about getting someone to sponsor my commission idea.

Around the corner are blueberries. Tom the mover told me a story about finding a guy on his property in Washington state picking blueberries in his underwear. The guy said he did it every year and Tom asked if he ever thought to ask if it was OK? So, I did not pick any of the blueberries, although it looks like someone got to these already. Hope it was the owner.


There are several junky properties around the neighborhood. Did the door need insulation or did it not close right? Oh, an old rug will do fine.


My friend posted pictures of my Tuesday night women's coffee friends and I am feeling like I am missing something, so I need some enlightenment. The next topic is Communication with a poem called A Poison Tree by William Blake,

I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe;
I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I water'd it in fears,
Night & morning with my tears;
And I sunned it with my smiles
And with soft deceitful wiles.

William Blake is one more artist and poet that lived his life on the edge of poverty, was ignored by his peers, and died in neglect. His work is admired now, almost two hundred years later, but I find the repetitiveness of this scenario disturbing. I like the poem, how often we hold our resentment and foster it until it grows into something consuming, a poison tree. I'm sure there is some lesson for me in the poem about how to deal with noisy, karaoke playing neighbors, but I will have to work on it. I always have a problem with one of these kind of neighbors and if there is some life lesson that I need to learn that keeps causing this same issue to come up, I would like to learn it and get the lesson over. Maybe the lesson is communication.

The art fair starts Friday and I am looking forward to it. It looks like rain has moved to Thursday and it will be sunny Friday. The weather is funny here, not the same every day for weeks like California, some days it's hot and stays warm all evening, sometimes it really cools off by morning and takes all day to warm up, sometimes it changes 15 degrees from one day to the next. Lately it is super dry and I am not used to it, this is like Vegas most of the time, so I am thirsty all the time and not in the habit of taking water around with me. I hope I adjust by Winter, since if it is like Vegas it will get even drier.