It Shouldn't Be This Hard ...

I'm still trying to get the gallery site up and running. I have this phenomenal template set that I'm using, but it's been so long since I started that I had to go back to the beginning and start again. Ugh. Part of the problem is that I don't want to read through the entire instruction set; I just want to fix the things that need to be changed and get it running. The fastest way to achieve that objective is to read the entire instruction set!

Today I'm going to print out the entire instruction set (all 96 pages), at least skim through the entire thing, and then go back and focus on the key points necessary to get the gallery up and running. Really, I am. Honest.

In the zone

Sometimes when I'm at the layout table or sewing machine, things just come together. Without really thinking about it, I manage to pull just the right fabric, to know exactly how to cut it and where it should be placed, and just the right technique to use to anchor it to the base. Other times I'm trying too hard and anything I attempt results in failure. I know this, yet rather than work on something else, I will try to force the magic to happen. Why? I want to make progress - visible, measurable progress.

Tonight, since I'm wound-up from a frantic day, I'm going to take my sketch pads back home with me. Work out some problems, try some new ideas. That usually gets the groove back, and tomorrow I can continue on Pemi I.

What is it about a stream?

that is so mesmerizing? My MasterClass journey will begin with an exploration of water. There is a river on one side of my residence; a lake on the other. While the lake is beautiful, it is calm. still. The river, on the other hand, changes each and every day, each and every moment. Full of stones, it rambles along this way and that, sometimes hiding the beach on the island, other times exposing the tiny grains of sand, pebbles, and chunks of granite that give this state its nickname. The river is full of sound - the rushing water as it hits the rocks that block its path down to the sea. The leaves, twigs, and other small objects that are tossed about as they are carried downstream. The snow and ice that change the course of the water and create new sounds. Creak, crack. There's a rhythm to it. Maybe that's the secret - the rhythm of the water as it makes its way through the channels, narrow and wide.