She left a few moments ago for the airport, to spend a week in Old Blighty visiting with friends, spoiling the godchildren, and seeing the Pre-Rafaelite exhibition at the Tate, which is supposed to be amazing.
I'm staying here, to hold down the fort and write. And write, and write, and edit, and write some more. Too much damn work to do, and I am way behind on everything.
But I'm bummed. Especially about missing that Tate exhibition, which closes in a week or so. All work and no play...
((I really do need to learn to say no. I swear, I'm trying. No, NO, NOOOOOOOOO)).
Miss the Phipps already. Take good care of her over there, you Barmy Brits.
I shall labor on, writing fake history, feeding the many monkeys on my back.
- Current Location:santa fe... and westeros
- Current Mood:
lonely - Current Music:S & G
Comments
Stuck writing an exam paper about the magical rituals of the Kwakuitl people (Kwakwaka'wakw in their own tongue, because fuck everything) of northern Canada. There's about five hundred of them left, so having trouble figuring out the relevance.
Also, they worship a giant benevolent seagull, which sort of explains why their religion never prospered.