It's Sunday night and it's sleeting outside. M is knitting her scarf with the special Icelandic lambswool we picked up in Reyjavik last September. I spent all evening watching the GSL now that it's picked back up again, and practicing sightlessly loading film into spools for the Paterson tank.
Tomorrow I hope to wake up early and get to mixing my D76 and fixer and see if I can't get my first roll developed in the bathroom.
Work ain't any better really -- it's definitely not worse than it's been in the past. But having hobbies outside of StarCraft (climbing, photography, bookbinding) to pour my attention into has been liberating. It's dulling the pain of work a bit, that's for sure, but is that just making it easier for me to chug along doing the same thing? I feel like I've finally got my head up above the tree line. Easier to breathe, and for that reason maybe easier to get moving.
Went to a cooking class in Old Town earlier. Made lobster ravioli, a nice blood orange and arugula salad with a real tart vinaigrette, and dark chocolate espresso truffles. M was so happy and relaxed. I was popping lactaid after every bite, afraid the whole thing would put me in the grave. No signs of trouble so far, though.
Last night we went to an art thing in DC that M's friend volunteers at. She ran a photo booth for the event. It was cobbled together out of black curtrain and PVC pipes, with a DSLR poking in on a tripod. We knew we had to do something good for our turn, especially since A was going to have to go over the pics later. It's too much to explain our pose, except that we fuckin' nailed it. M is still giggling here looking at the pic on her phone.