Birdwoman

Progress is slow but steady these days.  I blame my baby for being such a fun little guy.  Now that we're all finally getting some good sleep, and spending more time laughing than crying, amnesia has set in and I'm ready to pop out a hundred more babies.  I have only vague, hazy memories of being completely overwhelmed by the newborn and early infant stages.  Was all of that swaddling and yoga ball bouncing just a dream?  I still find the occasional earplug tucked in a pocket, or rolling around the bottom of a drawer, that proves it was all real.

I'm also in the process of packing up my studio.  I've decided not to renew my lease for another year.  There's a good chance we might be relocating out west for a year or so, and even if we end up staying in Massachusetts, it's hard to justify the expense when I'm only going to the studio once a week.  I always thought that if the time ever came for me to give up my space, it would be a sad, difficult transition--a regression, or even worse, the death of a dream.  So I'm shocked to find that it doesn't feel that way.  In the context of everything else, it feels like part of a new adventure.