February 19, 2010

Watched the handsome American win the figure skating last night. I was on everyone’s side as they were skating. Weir was robbed, though. The difference between Evan, the American, and Evgeny, the Russian, was the difference between fire and ice.

Level of exhaustion last evening which must be analyzed. Why so worn? Why did the days leave such a grueling impression behind? The drama class is contentious, but in the past I have usually found that invigorating. It is time and more for that sabbatical.

But, today, a winter diamond. My studio was endurable, so I painted merrily. Heather banged away next door, setting up her studio, knocking stuff off my walls trying to attach them to hers. She blocked all her beautiful natural light, being a potter and, I guess, not in need of it.

Did a sort of stretch-yoga class at the Y. I still feel grand after it. CM was there, blissfully oblivious of ignorant of how universally her retirement went unnoticed.