Weaving is fun, and I am enjoying myself.

I’ve been babysitting today, for our landlords’ son, a boy M’s age. We met up around eleven-thirty and they dropped us off at the Children’s Museum, which is SO cool. I did my best to stop and be present as often as I remembered to. Because it really was nice. Wet clay, engaged children, and several minutes in which I was "weaving a basket" in solitude using a wire colander and some yarn. That moment made me wistful for some sort of existence I don’t have: a more subsistence-based, lo-tech lifestyle. It also made me think I could make some sweet shellacked bowls made out of woven recycled materials, which then made me think about doing that for a living, which made me think about our current circumstances, and then about M’s school beginning in two years and how I want to just… have a different life. Breathe. Stay in the present: "weaving is fun and I am enjoying myself." Right?

We’ve been home for two hours watching cartoons and eating dinner, and now the boys are playing until the babysit-ee goes home in an hour or two. I am not being a tyrant. Also am a bit checked out, obviously, as I am writing this.