It occurs to me that if I were to buy walls for my tent and then hand cut a pattern into the tent wall fabric, I could turn my whole tent into a luminary.

GIANT. LUMINARY.

My pupils are dilatated like a stoned cat. Like, I could sit INSIDE a luminary. GUYS.

Yeah, sure, lots of work, terrible for rain, impractical, blah blah blah, but just think ... a whole luminary tent. Could cut a pattern just on the top half, then get some poly voile or mesh and line the cut part to add some stability and so it's not bunch of floppy holes. Like a huge reverse applique. Bonus: ventilation. It's a little tent, it's only 16' of wall. Doable. Bet it would look rad as hell. Bet not many people in the world have a luminary tent. Can't not do it now. Can't not. Already got a snowflake inspired pattern picked out for the cut paper backdrop for product photos. So easy to enlarge that sucker and do a tent wall.

Yes. This is happening. (But not right now, plate is full. After the farmer's swap.)

--

I took a walk around the little lake. There's green grass and some daffodils, but the trees are bare. Geese and ducks and turtles and squirrels. It rained earlier this morning but it's sunny and warm and breezy now. Spring peepers have been making noise in the evenings for a couple weeks.

Getting more disciplined on diet/exercise. I know there's going to be a graduation ceremony when spouse finishes his training. His brothers were talking about going, depending on what the covid stance is and how many guests are allowed. I really don't want to show up looking like I do now, because I look like someone who got steamrolled by a pandemic and sat on a couch crying for a year. He's going to be fit and looking sharp in his new suit. I don't want to be a doughy waddler. :-( Plus we have to move and there's no elevator. I would die if I had to haul myself up and down the four flights of stairs all day like I did when we moved in. I don't eat poorly, just a little too much for the low level of activity I've been at. Little less instant gratification, little more not-fun discipline. So we start with everyday walks. The loop around the lake and back is roughly 2 miles. Before the dark times, before the empire, there was an exercise room with treadmills and such we could use. I have learned that looking for turtles and heron and otter (they say there's an otter, I haven't seen it yet) is a much better way of enticing myself to exercise. I hate the treadmill, it's only good for forcing me to jog. Probably why I hate it.

There is an event in June I want to ask if I can vend at. It looks like the bellydance community up north is involved. I miss bellydance so so much. I was just anticipating being able to afford classes again, even though it would eat 3 hours in transportation and $12 in bus/metro fees to attend an hour long class. Then the stupid plague ruined everything. Dance is good for your body, good for your brain, and I've met so many great people through the community. Really interesting, bright, creative women. If you want awesome lady friends, find a bellydance class. It's been my go-to trick in the past for making friends in a new city. I just couldn't afford it, or the free time, since we've been here. I prefer a style of bellydance that is improvisational and performed in a group. It's possible to practice the moves but without other dancers around it's like trying to play basketball by yourself. You can practice dribbling or free throws, but you're not really playing basketball.

Anyway, if there's a bunch of bellydancers getting together, best believe I want to be there. There's no vendor info posted so I'm going to have to email and beg. It sounds like a small local event where everyone knows everyone else, so the vendors are settled by default because they're known in the community. Honestly, I'm not likely to sell much, but I don't care. It would make a nice excuse to refresh my dance memory. It's possible they might know the same style I learned, which means I can dance with them if we're using the same cues and movement vocabulary. I'd be super rusty for sure, but it's an excuse to practice. I have plenty of instructional DVDs and there are online classes at daturaonline.com if I want something new. But much of what I enjoy about class is the social interaction aspect, so it's tough to get excited about anything prerecorded.

I admit, I am excited to move because maybe the new place will have a better local community and class access. Seems like everything here was hours away in one direction or another, and more expensive. In Anchorage I paid ~$60 a month for one class that met once a week. Here it's twice as expensive, they make you to pay a $$$ lump sum upfront for a "semester", and then add on transportation costs, and god help you if they want you to buy a costume. Not poor people friendly. Such a shame because there is a well known dancer in the city that specializes in double sword and I would kill to take her classes.

This lady. If the nerd theme doesn't get you, stick around for the four swords.

I tried to work out how to get to her studio via public transportation and it was like 2.5 hours one way and I'd have to run at the end of class to make sure I caught the last bus to make it home at 11pm. Nevermind riding the bus with my scimitars - the weirdos would be all over me like the cats when I put catnip on the scratchy post. Just too hard.

Feels like I'm getting some real positive momentum finally. This isn't the first time I've had to pull myself out of a depression hole, but it is the first time where the cause/problem is truly beyond my control. I have to remind myself it's a once in a lifetime pandemic (knock on wood), plus awful politics. It is for sure stressful and for sure not my personal fault, and there is no "normal" reaction to have. Everyone's probably got a touch of PTSD right now. The nation went berserk and shat itself for a year and here we are, muddling through. I successfully did not get sick (as far as I know) and thus avoided potentially screwing up my lungs or heart or blood clotting, or passing it on to clients. Spouse did not get sick. We're okay. He's headed for his dream job. We're going to move somewhere new. Things are getting better.

I had a dream last night where I was staying in this elaborate gorgeous royal palace, carved marble, gold leaf, the works. My mentor was the King who owned the palace. All the courtiers were desperately trying to find secret exits to escape the palace without his knowledge. Everyone was all smiles when he was around, pretending everything is wonderful, and then frantically conspiring to get away from him the second he turned his back. I found a hidden entrance to the sewers with a golden key. One of my coworkers from the shop caught me and was trying to convince me to stay because she didn't want to be the last one stuck with the King when he figured out the truth. But I had to get out, so I flushed myself down this drainpipe full of raging water into this pitch black cavern in the bowels of the palace. I could see a hint of daylight and I was making my way toward it, when I woke up.

I guess that's basically where I am right now. Thanks, subconscious.