An unusual day. I celebrated Annual Ironing Day by ironing three shirts. And that's it for another year. Tomorrow I leave for a retreat. I though I'd be sleeping in a tent but instead I get a garret room. As long as I don't fall down the stairs and lie until morning with a concussion and smashed teeth.
My child left for Portland. She's on tour with a band; their official photographer.
I want to go to Bhutan. Next year. I want to wear a headdress with ribbons and hair and a mask and dance in the town square and play a bone whistle and fly.