Thursday, July 16, 1998

        Last night I finished the journal early, and I had answered all my email, and Bob was out with a friend, so I decided to go out for Chinese. Well, go out and pick up Chinese food and bring it home. Crab rangoon, steamed rice and Yu Hsiang Vegetables. I don't know what the Yu Hsiang means, but the vegetables were supposed to be spicy. Actually they were more sweet than spicy, but they were okay. Mostly broccoli. Bob got home just as I was sitting down to eat, said that he'd had drinks and appetizers, but no dinner. So I offered him what was left of mine, and fixed him a plate with half the crag rangoon, some rice and some vegetables. It wasn't what he would have chosen had he been given the opportunity of ordering for himself, but he said it was good.

        Last night was probably the weirdest I've experienced lately, sleep-wise. I went to bed early, around 10:30, and ended up waking up three hours later when Bob came to bed. I was thirsty after the MSG-and-salt-laden Chinese food, so I got up to get a drink, and knew that I wasn't going back to sleep anytime soon. I came downstairs and got on the computer, and Pyewacket curled up on me and went to sleep while I read email. It's kind of nice, actually, being up in the middle of the night with the house sleeping around you. I have, of course, pretty much effectively screwed up my sleep schedule to the point where it's going to be a real struggle to get it back in the normal range.

        I read and answered email and then started working on a tutorial that I'm writing, which entailed downloading some software, installing it, running it, and capturing some screen shots which needed to be manipulated to highlight various points. I ended up going back to bed at 4:00 a.m. I couldn't sleep then, either, amazingly enough, but I forced myself to stay in bed and I apparently did eventually fall asleep because I woke up at 5:00 with Pyewacket attempting to settle herself half on my hip and half on Bob's. I'm not sure what it was that woke me up, the weight of her or her purring. She has the loudest purr of any cat I've ever been around. I remember putting my face right up against Dona to see if she was purring, but you can hear Pyewacket purr from the next room.

        I pulled her off of us and gathered her in next to me on the bed and we fell back asleep until Bob got up not that long after to go play golf. He was standing next to the bed, telling me goodbye, and I opened my eyes and saw that he was naked. "Don't forget to put some clothes on," I said, and went back to sleep.

        I stained a little pie safe today. I think that's what it is (or what it's meant to be). A little cabinet with a shelf, with chickenwire in the door. I used a colored stain in chambray blue, and painted the round wooden bead handle ivory, several coats, so that it looks like an old porcelain doorknob. I think it does, anyway. In the morning when it's dry, I'll sand some of the stain off the edges so it looks even more old and beat-up. I love little cabinets and boxes and drawers and shelves. Drawers especially. Even if they're tiny. Maybe especially if they're tiny. The possibility of secrets . . .

        A long time ago I built a dollhouse. I loved that house. It was so much fun to build and decorate and furnish. It must have been fifteen years ago or so. It's still in the basement but I haven't looked at it in years. I bought a kit and built it, painted it, shingled the roof, papered the walls, laid carpet in the rooms, built (or bought) room after room of tiny furniture, even made dishes for the table. I even cut parquet out of wood print paper and glued it on the living room floor.

        I don't know why, but right now these pieces of furniture that I'm working on appeal to me much more than the tiny miniature dollhouse stuff I worked on then. There's something about their intermediate size that interests me--too small for real furniture, but too large for a dollhouse. Too small for a child to sit in. They seem to be meant for dolls (or bears, maybe), but I like them just for themselves. I can't really explain it, they just make me feel good. It feels good to work on them, to do something with my hands, to create something that I think is beautiful. Even something that's basically "useless," i.e., just for decorative purposes, that serves no true useful purpose, is a pleasure to create.

        Working on these small pieces lets me finish something, too. Lately I've tended to have a short attention span, to get bored in the middle of a project and let it drop away. I would be a little fearful of starting to paint a full size chair or chest of drawers, knowing that I probably wouldn't finish it. But a small project that takes maybe two hours at the most to finish--I can commit to that. It gives me a feeling of accomplishment rather than a feeling of failure. And the monetary cost is small as well. A five dollar piece of unfinished wooden furniture, a fifty cent bottle of paint, a brush, a little varnish, and I've enjoyed a satisfying afternoon of work and created something beautiful. I don't often get that opportunity.

        There are a bunch of new readings at the Tealeaves site. One of them is just for you . . .