I need to get in the studio. I avoid getting in the studio. Anxiety builds, another day passes. My stomach hurts and I can't catch my breath.

I need to get in the studio. But what about...the orders to ship, soup to make, laundry, yoga, the basement is a mess! Bello needs fresh air. I need another twenty pounds of figs... their season is almost over. At night I toss and turn and dream about dresses.

I need to get in the studio. But today was dry and warm and the sun lulled me into thinking my priority really should be the chickens. They need hay for the winter. On my walk back from the feed store I found a metal rake and a dozen pint sized mason jars. I bought Bello a rawhide. We ate plums from an overhanging tree. The day folded and we slowly made our way back home. The house was quiet but the little room and the silent machine were not. They began their murmuring, tugging on my arm, wanting my attention, losing patience- they want to be important now. And I want to want that too. But I resist. I feel like a meaty mare, robust and full of run, being led up the ramp to the trailer. Buck, toss and shy away. I don't want to go.

But I do want to arrive.