May. 27th, 2009

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I am feeling somewhat... blank... today. This could have something to do with spending the entirety of yesterday running over half of California trying to open a new bank account and get my license renewed and changed to reflect the fact that I'm, you know, no longer in Texas. Unfortunately, things were accidentally left behind that were needed for said changeover, and so the hour and a half drive to Sonora was wasted.

I came back to the lodge and decided to forgo staffcaff food, which evidently consisted of spaghetti and meatballs (which I am not overly fond of anyway) in favor of dinner in the restaurant. Perfectly flavored trout, a glass of pinot noir, and cheesecake made the day... somewhat tolerable. And I was the only one in the restaurant. It is like a ghost town here since the Strawberrians left for home. I'm glad. If I heard one more strain of bluegrass, I might have taken to tearing out clumps of my hair in order to plug up my ears.

I wandered around the woods this morning, taking one of the nearby hiking trails. I love being immersed in the wilds, love being able to walk out the door and disappear into the forest. I have never been able to live in cities and most towns, not without finding myself... fading, or stagnating, or just... numb. I suppose this is just the way I'm wired. The accomodations here leave much to be desired, though. That is a situation that I will hopefully be able to remedy in time, once I can get a hold of a decent car. Unfortunately, living spaces are relegated to either on property, or an hour away in Groveland. The Lodge actually rents out a big old house there, which is allegedly quite nice.

I just lost half of my post. Wonderful. I will try to remember what I wrote.

I have a couple of tattoo designs on the agenda, one for an old friend, and one for a man on property. I don't do the inks, but I do the occassional commissioned sketch for the artists to modify as needed. One of the tattoos, the one for the good friend of mine, depicts a rose vine wrapped around a sword; the vine transforms into a chain that wraps around the arm, and a butterfly hovers over the rose. I'm not quite certain how to design a wrapped tattoo, but the idea is wonderful, and very fitting for her.

It's back to work tomorrow. We had eighty-two checkouts Sunday. Translation: laundry piled halfway to the ceiling. I hope it isn't quite as... overwhelming... tomorrow. Ah well. All one can do is what one can do. Preferably while playing one's music as loud as one can. And maybe dancing a little, when no one's looking. And hoping the enormous, industrial washers don't vibrate right through the window because they were not cemented and bolted down properly. Ah, cheapskates. This must be what an earthquake feels like. Just more... rythmic.

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