My camera has gone missing. It's in a little felt green and yellow zipped pouch that a friend brought back from Turkey as a souvenir for me. I spent over an hour hunting high, low, and in between for it in my apartment and my car this afternoon, and finally had to cancel out on the job that requires me to have a camera in hand. Which wasn't much of a misery on my part because by that time I had a gonzo headache and wanted nothing better than to curl up on my bed under my new muskrat coat and close my eyes. I still haven't found my camera, though it did occur to me after the headache dissipated that I've actually got a backup--the camera that my mom gave me (which my father had given her) that she used for doing the church directory two years ago. It's the camera with which she took his last picture (just six hours before he died), and when I scrolled through the memory I found the original shot, as well as other photos (which I hadn't seen before) from their last visit with my brother and sister in law and a weekend the two of them spent at the coast. There were also some pictures of Granddaddy, which made the whole review somewhat surreal. At any rate, the camera will do for work, though it's far nicer than my little point-and-shoot, and I am now equipped to create really artistic shots, should the mood strike.
I'm also missing a huge chunk of ambition and self-discipline. Having a second major headache within six days has undeniably contributed, but I can't seem to make myself get busy, other than the usual work (more than 80 hours in 10 days, which though it sounds impressive on the surface doesn't really average out to much) with my creative and intellectual projects. Have I completed any more of my pieced bags? No. Have I written any more cover letters or books proposals? No. Have I re-strung the necklaces that have been lying around forever waiting for repair? No, again. I made two lamps (and rewired two that weren't functioning), but sold only one at the last estate sale. I did take in a large number of earrings and some eight bracelets to the gallery in Bethesda for their Valentine's Day promotion (but these were already long made), and I did send out an evite to a home show that I'm sharing with Anita on February 11 (something I'd been procrastinating on for weeks), and I did go over to my coworker's house last night and we outlined the novel we want to write (now, I'm just having a fit of "how on earth do I turn this great idea into a fun, readable piece of pulp fiction???" Betwixt summarizing a storyline and coming up with believable dialogue a great gulf is fixed.). Profound laziness otherwise. Haven't read my Bible, haven't cleaned the house. Dirty dishes are sitting on the counter while clean ones languish in the washer. There's a dead poinsettia on top of my china cabinet. I have been spending an incredible amount of time watching Castle dvds, and speculating how Nathan Fillion's chin and nose will gradually meet in ensuing decades, in a sort of mortal Pangaea.
I did attend my honorary nephew's Tae Kwon Do graduation (and demonstration) last Friday night--lots of children wearing deadly serious expressions as they moved carefully through their choreographed routines, yelling fiercely as they struck down imaginary enemies. It was adorable. What was sweetest, probably, was when the time came that Noah was presented with his new belt and instructed to give the old one to his family, he spotted me in the crowd and ran over to hand it to me. After the ceremony broke up, another woman asked me, "What level is your child?" It was a comfortable, inclusive feeling to be able to respond. I gave the belt to his dad and grandmother, and then after his mom, my friend Leah, changed out of her own black belt regalia, the five of us went to dinner at the Asian restaurant next door.