Feb 17, 2020
Miniaceous Monday
miniaceous ~ colour of reddish lead
I’m still waiting for the super cold, super snowy winter the weatherman promised in the fall. We’ve had a couple of really cold days (like Friday when we had extreme cold warnings in effect), but they usually warm right up again the next day. And while Newfoundland has been hit hard with the snow this year apparently they prefer to keep it all to themselves. We haven’t even had enough for a proper snow day.
*sigh*
As I’ve mentioned previously, I’ve been going to Tai Chi twice a week and I’m finally starting to feel if not like I almost know what I’m doing, then at least less klutzy as I go about it. For the most part it’s a friendly group to be part of, and during one of the breaks I was talking to a couple of ladies about stitchery crafts and next thing I know they invited me to check out their group.
I don’t usually do all that great in new, social situations, but I sucked it up and went to their next meeting. I have to say, I’m glad I did. If I thought the Tai Chi group was friendly, they have nothing on the stitchery group. And talented! Boy howdy those ladies have mad stitching skills.
They were also pretty chatty, and through the course of the morning as they talked about the various other groups they were part of made me realize how insular I’ve become. I didn’t even know most of these other groups existed!
That’s not to say I’m going to run out and join them all, but I will be joining this one. They only meet twice a month and it’ll be a fun way to while away the time. For sure it’s revived my interest in my crafts. I’m not sure when or why I got away from them, but it’ll be nice to use up some of those supplies just gathering dust.
This week I’ve also got a poetry reading to prepare for. I spent Sunday morning struggling over a bio to send the MC. I wish her luck. Compared to most of the other poets who’ve done readings, I’m pretty boring – I’ve lived in the same place all my life and haven’t really done a whole lot. No awards or recognition, just piles of unpublished poems.
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