I woke up really early this morning. Pancake Land fell asleep on the couch, so the bed got very cold. And I really needed to pee. I got one snooze hit in before my will crumbled shivering to the bedside and I got up. Since my sweet lady slept on the couch for the past few hours, my office door was closed when I got up. Add this to the chill already in my bones and you’ve got an unpleasant typing experience on your numb hands. Luckily, I had a plan. There is an air vent in the kitchen right next to the door to the office. I turned the heat up ever-so-slightly and put the oscillating fan from the bedroom in the doorway and, Voila!, warm office. That was the plan anyway. As it turns out, the fan has magical properties that allow it to find every freezing cold molecule of air and then fire those little frozen bullets at light speed right at me. The fan didn’t stay on long. But, it is getting warmer in here, though. Maybe it is the five layers that I am wearing. Maybe it’s the coffee. Maybe it is the simple diffusion of warm air from the vent to the heater that I turned up ever-so-slightly. Whatever it is, it is getting better.

Yesterday, despite having received troubling news about my Nanny and the not being used to the working everyday thing, I managed to snap back into my true SC form. I was manic and obsessive and impulsive. It felt good to be back.

The day started out just like any other day. I got up, had coffee, made my post, made a poop, and went off to do something productive. K has given me the week off from the Letterpress shop, so I am working in the pottery studio all week. It felt weird to be working on a Tuesday. At some point, I knew I had to hunt K down because she had to sign my time sheet, so that I get paid for my work up at the school. I went to see her before one of her class’s final exams and we talked for a few minutes about what I’ll be doing next week in the shop. I have been toying with an idea for a book project for the upcoming class and I talked to her about it a little. The book would use a poem by Tom Robbins, so K immediately reminded me that I need permission from Tom Robbins in order to use it. I know, I know. I have been dragging my feet about that. Now I couldn’t ignore it any longer. I’m going to have to write Tom Robbins a letter. So I headed back to the ranch to make more mugs and think about stuff. I saw this on the way back to the truck:

I think I am the only person to ever read that sign.

I spent the rest of the day fantasizing about writing a letter to Tom Robbins, and then subsequently receiving a letter back from him saying that he would be honored to let me use the poem. When I got home, after eating dinner and finishing my article, I set to work on a letter. It is to Tom Robbins, but I except the fact that he’ll probably never see it and that the only eyes that will ever be set upon it will be those of a copyright/permissions employee, so it is mainly written to them. I tried to keep it as true to my form as possible, but at the same time still get permission to use the poem. Clever boy. Even though I know what the reality is, I still have hope that Tom Robbins will at least see my letter. If he writes me back, I might pee my pants. Anyway, here’s the letter:

Do you like how I squiggled out my name and address in Photoshop, thus preventing you from coming to my house in the middle of the night?

I might have gone a little overboard with the postage, but I didn’t want anything minor, like the lack of postage, stopping my letter from reaching Tom’s desk. Well, I’m off to the mailbox to begin what might end up being an awesome story. Wish me luck. I’ll leave you with something funny to make your day as exciting as mine.

More soon. ~SC