And then I didn’t. (Well, I took a picture of Molly, because she was a visiting dog, and she was so good, I almost wanted one of my own. She even thought she was a lapdog, and she sat in her owner’s lap like she belonged there, and she was awesome.)
But even though all I got were Molly and the alpacas, it was a still a wonderful day anyway.
So yesterday, reeling from con crash and grateful to be in a group of less than ten, Lynn West, Elizabeth North, her son Josh and I drove to see the “magic sheep” as Josh called them. They were… well… magic.
The farm itself was just that. A place where magic sheep ate. The proprietor was unimpressed with tourists, but we just looked outside, went, “Oooh… magic sheep! They’re adorable! Let’s go eat!”
And then we did.
With a helping of Coldstone Creamery for dessert.
|Alpacas = magic sheep|
But it was a short and peaceful trip, and given the amount of driving I had done recently– and had yet to do– it was awesome. And, of course, there was the company.
I know that I’m lucky– boy, do I know I’m lucky–because I have worked for some miserable supervisors before. If you recall, I was working under the iron winky of a number of people who actively wanted to fire–if not kill– me during my stay in public education, and the further I get from that situation, the more convinced I am that it’s symptomatic of the cancer of emptiness and shallow greed that plagues the education system and has always made its blood from the cleated backs of the basic teacher in the trenches. Because away from education, I’ve discovered that it’s not just the students who are bright eyed and ready to learn and to invest in the promise of a glorious future. There are some adults out there–some truly shining people– who see promise in anybody who wants to try, and who see nothing ridiculous in the earnest fruits of a good heart.
Ladies and gentleman, these are my bosses.
I would spend a day with them searching for magic sheep or searching for proof of water on the moon.
It ended in a lovely dinner with a number of beloved DSP peeps, and it was a very good day.
And today, Julianne and I started home.
We are both…
Shaking from con crash, mortally tired of automobiles, and really wishing we shared more than one or two overlapping musical tastes, we both conceded that we needed to stop in Redding instead of pushing on through to Sacramento. Pushing on through to Sacramento would have gotten us there at 10:00 pm, which in of itself is not that late. However, Julianne lives in Santa Cruz, and she wouldn’t have gotten home until 1:00 a.m., and that’s not healthy. So we stopped, and it’s probably a good thing we did, because neither of us are particularly sane atm, and we would not have been good people to have behind the wheel.
But that does not mean we both do not mortally want to go home.
I can feel Mate’s hand in mine as we sit kitty corner to each other. I can feel the way Squish hugs– all softness–and the way Zoomboy hugs–all angles and elbows. The dog wants to lick my face and camp out on my boobs and I want to bury my nose in my beloved’s neck and simply smell him–he bathes regularly, it’s not a hardship.
And it’s hard in this hotel room– it’s like this picture of the mountain. It’s a gorgeous shining vision, and even though I know there are pebbles and pitfalls on it, I still want to be there because these are the pebbles and pitfalls of my home, and it’s right there so close I can almost touch it…
But it’s at least another 15 hours away.
I’ll talk more about Jeremy Bunny and Blackbird Knitting in a Bunny’s Lair on Friday– because that’s when he’s officially out, but seriously, I’m excited. See, when we left Jeremy Bunny, he was hurt. We saw him in the hospital, and then we sort of saw him recover.
But Jeremy Bunny had a hard past, and honestly? The hospital was only the beginning. But with the end of this book, the stories have come full circle. That doesn’t mean I don’t have other sequels planned, it just means that the beginning of The Granby Knitting Menagerie is really very quaint and funny, and because: story, the end of Knitter in His Natural Habitat was really a little grim. But this book takes that moment of grimness and turns it into redemption, and turns it into joy, and hopefully makes you laugh a lot, and hopefully also makes you sigh, because Jeremy and his boy (HA!) are are really one of the sweetest couples I’ve ever written.
I hope you think so too.