The other day I posted a photo of myself to this blog. Not sure if it will stay. Tim says I look to pensive, which is a kind word to use. I think I look tired and old...but wait...I AM tired and old! We shall see.  What a battle-axe. 

This morning I am listening to something that is truly amazing. Marc Almond's new album, Chaos and the Dancing Star, came out yesterday. I adore his work, but honestly haven't gotten too much out of his newest releases. Great work compared to so much else we hear today, but not as poignant and audibly delicious as he is capable of, vocally and lyrically. 

Man, this record blows my socks off. 

First couple songs had me almost in tears, beyond my control. Now THAT is music. He describes this album as a romantic view of the apocalyptic world we seem to be living in today. It is masterful. His lyrics are spot on, and he is singing so, so well. The album title is based on the Nietzche quote: 

"I say unto you: one must still have chaos in oneself to be able to give birth to a dancing star. I say unto you: you still have chaos in yourselves. Alas, the time is coming when man will no longer give birth to a star. Alas, the time of the most despicable man is coming, he that is no longer able to despise himself.

Isn't that the truth about art? When things are going well, sometimes meaningful art is elusive. When we live through times of stress, self-doubt, or challenge, and our internal stress increases, that energy translates to art. As my life has gotten easier in some ways and I have learned that I can not push my sick body 24/7 like I did for so many years (the years when I produced 8+ large pieces a year), I produce work more slowly. It is not less meaningful, if anything it is more reflective of that chaos. We all produce those dancing stars, don't we? 

Happy to say Reality and Other Obstacle Courses is now complete and sent off to my tutor for the City and Guilds course I am taking. This weekend I am glad to being making the next piece. I will be bathed in Marc's heavenly voice and sage interpretation of this thing called life as I embark on another creative journey. Around me will be a million things that need doing...the errands, chores, and mundane demands of life. Sing on my Muse, Marc Almond. Onward to another Dancing Star, despite the list that never stops growing. Cheers.  

Crazy busy week, and despite being excited and motivated to finally put the icing on my artistic cake (the current piece is almost done!) sleep and well-being again interfered with the plans. This weekend will give me the needed time, especially since there is a snow event coming tonight. Get cozy, and sew cords. Lots of them! 

I love making cords on the machine. first of all it gives me a reason to use my yarn -- as someone who doesn't knit, I manage to accumulate lots of gorgeous thick, colorful fibers. Can't help it. They follow me home. Adding thread to the cords gives it an additional layer of texture, color and possible sparkle. Trapping fibers in the stitch is fun, too. And, it is MINDLESS. Just sit and watch as a few irreverent fibers move forward and pass under the whirring needle, only to come out the other side as a strong and pretty cord. Yee-ha! Not much thinking involved, just doing. I need more of that! I think we all do. 

Got caught up in the online request to sew pouches for baby joeys that are orphans in Australia due to the horrid wildfires. I collected a bunch of sheets and fabrics, and planned a sewing day with Judy, then got sick, and had to postpone. Judy continued though on her own -- what lucky joeys they will be to snuggle in her pouches! Within a few days, wildlife agencies in Australia begged for mercy from the worldwide crafting community as they were glutted with more handmade things than they could deal with. I still have plans to use the flannel I prepared for wildlife and pet shelters...maybe beds? Joey pouches once the hype dies down? Joes need a lot of pouches and I imagine that they will need more at some point. If not, I will make cat and small dog beds using a huge roll of poly batting that was sent my way from another dear friend last year, and I had no clue how to use. It is nice to do helpful things for our creatures -- I am so happy to see the world care about baby joeys, wallabees, and especially, the poor koalas. Heartbreaking over there. 

Amidst the chaos of this week, something beautiful happened. Teddie's sister has arrived! Born on January 13th in the wee hours, she is safe and sound on this side of the veil. And she is just precious. A tiny pink nose, pudgy little seal pup body, glowing white fur. Perfect. Teddie has no idea what is coming her way in a few weeks (me either, really!)  Judging by how excitedly she played with her brother Raphy last night, who was visiting from Pennsylvania, she needs a pal badly. She isn't getting enough playtime in and with the cold weather, I am not walking or running her enough. Baby Tessa will help with both of these things. Can't believe she will be here in a matter of months! I love watching her grow via photos, and wish I could hold her little self in my hands and kiss that tummy.  Here is a sneak peek at the adorableness...

Oh, that little nose. That little bum. And the feet are adorable too. Can't stand it! Don't ever let anyone tell you that a dog can't bring happiness. Teddie has been a life changer for me, and I think Tessa will add even more love and life to my home.  It is pure maltese magic. 

As I write this, Hapi is coughing. Making such a thick and robust coughing sound I think he is a smoker. Then I remember that he doesn't have lungs, and can't really cough like we do. I guess I have been coughing without realizing it and he is just giving me the playback. He is on a vocal roll this morning - have heard Indiana Jones theme, meows, a few calls of "Here Puppy!" and many other appropriate and inappropriate sounds. Followed by a sweet little "I love you" and "Hapi want treat?"  Better get going or he will run out of things to say! Cheers. 

​

Hey Ellie Ropple in heaven, Happy Birthday! Would have been your 90th. While I miss you being here, I am somewhat glad you have been spared seeing the world become what it is. What a mess. There are times I think you still are around nudging the material world this way and that to support your kids. I really hope you take time off to do some good things for yourself up there, too. You really had a tough life, from beginning to end, and the fact that all four of us are who we are is a testament to your strength.

​As I get older I understand you so much more, and wish you were here to tell you that. I was only 33 when you died. At the time I thought I was grown up enough to deal with it, but now see that I probably wasn't. 

A few years after you passed away, Tilly arrived. As you were THE mama to little white dogs I often wondered if there was a connection.  You knew the power of having a little white living stuffed animal in your life. Andy the poodle was one special pup. We won't talk about Alfie, although I did love him even though his habits were...ummm. Ok. Back to Andy. If you pointed your finger at him and said BANG he'd fall to the floor and roll over. This was the late 70's and it was okay to do that kind of thing. Pets were not raised the way they are today, as family members, but you were always ahead of the cultural curve on that one. Remember cooking London broil for Maggie the Boxer every night? I do. I know where my animal sensitivities came from, for sure. 

So last summer was pretty tough. Losing Tilly was more devastating than I thought possible. I mean I know he was a dog and not a kid. Really! And I know all good dogs must die. I know this all cognitively and lived it multiple times in my life. But this was different, and it hurt me more. I think that is why my body got so sick the day after he died and I was in the hospital with a septic infection. Scary stuff. I knew over time I'd get over it, through it, around it, whatever, by putting one foot in front of the other like we do when things get tough. But I was tired, Ma. Very, very tired. Tired of being in pain all the time, tired of being tired, tired of just trying to make life work. I loved my job, I loved my dogs and birds, I loved my friends, but was too tired to see much more than loss and be tired and feel pain. What a bummer. 

Then, my amazing friend Anne supported my babbling conversation about all this and suggested I get a puppy. I thought there was no way in hell could manage it in my condition.  I thought it would be so unfair to a dog to bring her in to my world. I thought there was no way I could do it. Nope. Then the magic of life conspired to connect a few surprising dots and along came Teddie. She has fit into my home and heart with ease, and returned a sense of joy and love to my life that Tilly took with him. I wonder if you had a hand in facilitating another little white dog in this house, because she is so perfect? She is just what I needed to get back on track. Thank you.  

So yesterday, Ma, I learned that Teddie's mom and dad are expecting puppies again. The breeder was trying not to have this happen, but it did. Teddie's mom Mia is a great momma dog and she and her hubby Finley make amazing pups.  Because they are in such demand, I had to decide quickly if I was interested in getting dear Teddie a sister. It is earlier than I want, but nature is what it is, I guess. I signed on for a girl.

​Because Teddie has been so amazing and brought a spark of light back to my life, I feel like I can handle the challenge of a second puppy. Yes, more grooming bills, more food bills, more vet bills and insurance bills, but more laughs, more joy, more smiles, more puppy kisses, and love. Every day. It will mean three pups for a time again, but that is okay. As long as Mia has at least two girls in her litter, one will be coming north from Pennsylvania to be Teddie's sister. If not, wasn't meant to be. 

So Ma, I leave it in your hands.  I think of you singing to the radio in the kitchen "Que Sera Sera." As it will be. Happy 90th, Ma. May you be at peace. 

Once again I am reminded why we should never say "Boy, things are going well, aren't they?"  Lately, despite my physical problems, I've been trying to focus on the good things in life and how every day is not a negative adventure through trials and tribulations. It has felt challenging lately, and I finally took a deep breath and said "Ok, enough, things are fine." Ha, Ha, Ha. 

Then yesterday morning, I found my beloved little parrot, Boncuk, passed away on the bottom of his cage. I think I went into shock for a while as it was so unbelievably strange to see his little form not animated with his indomitable spirit. He was my cuddly quaker, the one of my two who liked a good scritch under the chin and nightly kisses on the top of his head. Quakers are tough little birds that usually live to be 15-30 years. Jukes was only 12, and he was a loud, bossy, territorial pickle, but he loved his mama. He was the little bird that dragged himself on one leg from the bird room to the kitchen to find me when another bird had nipped him and nearly severed his leg.  Dr. Carol was amazing in fixing up his tiny leg bone, and he was fine after that. Healthy and happy, for most of his life. 

Lately though, he was not as happy a bird. His flight feathers were either not growing in or were being plucked from his wings by his bonded mate. I tried separating them but it was worse -- both birds screeched for each other and as soon as they were reunited preened and cuddled so much I felt cruel in keeping them apart. So, together they lived in an open cage on a table closest to the kitchen. First birdies to get a good morning, and last birdies to get a good night.  My winter vacation to-do list included "Take Juki to see Carol." Of all my parrots though, Jukes was the happiest diving into his food bowl in the morning and rifling through it to get the peas, or carrots, or whatever he felt like that day. He would hop around animatedly as I placed the bowl down, shouting at me to get with it and feed him faster. Then, he'd dive his little head in and toss food everywhere, and hopefully eat a little, too. Twice a day, always happy for his food.

The night before he died, he did the same, diving into some seeds and having a lot to say about it. He then jumped to the floor and waddled around, exploring, until I picked him up and gave him some cuddles. I kissed the top of his head and told him he was my best little green man. I kissed his beak and he made kissy noises back to me and said "Nite nite, nite nite." I looked at his cage and noticed his rope perch was really worn, so got a new one and set it up so that he'd have a new place to sit in the morning. Then, I turned out the light.  I am so grateful that I had not just walked by his cage and said a quick "goodnight" that night. 

In the morning I got up, took my mouthful of medications, and made coffee. Like always, I numbly sit at the computer while I wait for both coffee and meds to kick in. My back is to the Quaker's cage, about six feet away. The room was dark and quiet, I thought nothing of it. Was he still alive? Did he pass away alone when I was right there and could have comforted him? I will never know, and I will never forgive myself for not checking in on the birds before being selfish and sitting on my arse with coffee.  Finally when I went in and put the light on to get the birds up and fed, I saw his little, beautiful form, immobile, silent. His brother quaker was frantic at this point, and Hapi had flown to the cage and watched quietly as I picked him up. He understood. The bird I held in my hand was a shell. It looked older than Boncuk ever did. It's eyes were partially closed and looked nowhere. It's feathers looked spotty and rough. This was not my baby bird. He was gone to the place where all my babies wait for me, I hope, in perfect health and perfect feather. With no worries or concerns. 

Fly free my little Boncuk, no more cages, no more annoying domestic partner, no more pain in your wings or anywhere else. My heart is broken but I understand your need to go. I sincerely hope he is, wherever, flying around Tilly's head, bugging Toby, and feeling free.  This life is full of surprises, isn't it? And they aren't always good ones. Ah, life. What's the plot?

Snow. Fifty degree weather. Rain. More snow. Sunshine. All in a few days, and a pretty weatherproof puppy that wants to be out in all of it. Definitely is winter, now.  She loves being outside and I feel badly that I can't keep up with her lately. Happy she can get her zoomies out in the house and at my terrific neighbors' house and yard, though - that she is small enough to exercise in small spaces!

I have been pecking away on my latest art piece, still, and it is very slow going. I realize that the past few months have been very unproductive ones in terms of art, and I have got to try and do better. Truth is I have been flaring up with arthritis for months now, with very little let up in symptoms. Lots of fatigue, and pain, more fatigue, and more rest, and then more pain from resting. It is a cycle that is hard to beat. Add to it the disk issues, and all I've been able to do is crawl to a horizontal space at the first available moment following a bout of standing or sitting, usually with a bag of frozen okra in my pants to numb my sciatic nerve. Not good. Not being able to maintain artistic productivity is self-defeating and disheartening, to say the least. 

Because the sciatic nerve thing flared so badly last week, I gave it some extra prednisone and it immediately calmed down and behaved itself. In fact, the RA did, too, and I felt better all over. Amazingly so. I was able to come home from work, feed the "farm," and jump back into my artwork. Felt like the old days when I used to be able to work on art more frequently, when the disease was better managed. Still have pain, but nothing like the type that competes with every thought for immediate attention. If only prednisone was a safe drug to take long term...but it isn't. The daily maintenance dose of prednisone I take, already too high, has caught up with me and is no longer managing the arthritis on a daily basis. Or, disease activity is worse. Or, the biologic med I currently take has stopped being effective. Or, or, or.

Today at the rheumatologists I got another biologic infusion that is most likely not doing much to help at this point, and the decision was made to switch to a new drug next month. It is a biosimilar to one I took a few years ago that worked for a while before stopping, so maybe it will do something. It is also great as I won't have to miss work to get it as it is just a shot I will take at home twice a month. Will it be better than what I am on now? I don't know. Worse? I don't know. Will there be a reaction to it? I don't know. Will it take time to work, during which time things could get worse before they get better? I don't know. Until then, prednisone waits in the wings for when I just can't stand the constant pain levels anymore and I need a break from it. 

"Santa, I've been a good patient...can I have the holidays off from this misery and get my art mojo back? Please? I really need to complete the current piece. Then I want to make...and...and...and..."

Off to feed the farm now, and then stitch. THe Pred Forecast predicts I will be able to stay awake longer than 8pm tonight -- needle will be on fire! Unless I can't. Cheers. 

​

Snow is softly falling outside, and there has been no traffic on my street due to school being cancelled last night. The plows are waiting for it to stop. I think they are going to be waiting for a long time. 8" or so already, more to come. Then fifty degrees on Friday to peel it all off the pavement again. My kind of storm, really. 

Getting closer to finishing the current still life piece. Will be sure to dedicate some time to it today, on this magical free day. Working over every shape, adding detail in the form of couched gold cord, mirrors with what I am affectionately calling "Ropple-Shisha" and more beads and stitches throughout. This is the icing on the cake time, when my camera focuses in on detail, and I love this step. Because this is taking a long time, I have new ideas in the wings for the upcoming work I need to make, and know unconsciously I am solving design problems and making the pieces somewhere deep in my brain so the right ideas will come tumbling out when I start. Going to be an interesting few months!
​While my crew of birds, pups, and cats are patiently awaiting my ability to freely move my legs and feed them, I felt as if there was someone watching me. Outside my window is a snow covered philodendron limb that bears striking resemblance to an airedale dog. It gently bobs up and down as if it is asking to come in and get warm. Sorry, dear, the inn is full! The cats are being chased relentlessly by Teddie, who despite a few normal puppy offenses I refuse to see as anything but Perfect. Seamus has discovered the upper chamber to the kitty tower to escape her evil clutches, and Theo lounges on the table above the puppy zone, and has not been afraid of defending himself, gently, with his big, soft paw. He is a good kitty that has always been gentle with babies -- but this one is testing his patience!

Having a very bad time with my left leg and foot this morning, truly not weight bearing yet. Breathtaking jolts of pain when I try to stand on it or move my foot. The surprise of this pain caused me to fall when I stood up, and for once I found great value in having a pile of clean clothes on a table that I hadn't put away yet. Great cushioning! For the past few weeks the nerve pain in my left foot has woken me up several times a night, adding to the usual never-rested state of being.  I consider whether this extreme episode is caused by pinched nerves in my back, or pinched nerves from swelling in my ankle, or swollen joints in the midfoot, or all of these things. At the end of the day it doesn't really matter what causes it. I just want it to move along. Meds in, now I wait.

Dear Dad, I now know why you spent so much time off your feet. You were probably waiting for those few moments when you felt well enough to do something - anything. I can't believe you dealt with this scourge with only Aleve. It is the hardest fight of my life not to just give up and do the same. At times it seems pointless to even try to do anything but lay still in the least pain producing position I can find. But then I follow the thought to its consequence, and know that is no answer. Pushing through constant discomfort isn't a great answer either. 

Teddie just ran off with my shoe, or really HER shoe, as I only stole it back from her to wear this morning when I couldn't get my foot in my usual footwear.  She gleefully dragged it to the other room, stopping to stick her head inside and literally get lost in it. Be my guest, cutie. But can you please bring it back? She tilts her head as if to say "Come get it!" and she knows I will, albeit slowly today. Sweet puppy angel, I am besotted with you. We will get through this pain stuff, one gimpy step at a time. 

Must remember the power of baby steps in the fall...once the time changes here it is dark so early. Add to it a round of bleak, gray, wet weather, and a cold snap to boot, and the days just don't have much more in them than work. And puppies, always puppies. And parrots, and cats. Oh yeah, and a guinea pig.

Ellie da Pug has a cold, a pretty bad one, too. She is on antibiotics and will be having time in the bathroom with a vaporizer today to try to clear her stubby little airways. Because she can't smell well, she isn't excited about the little cheesebomb I give her with her pills in it, so has missed a couple doses over the past few days. Yesterday, Teddie was a shark and zoomed under Ellie's head to retrieve the dropped treat -- and consumed an NSAID. Amazing Carol let me know that she would be ok, and I gave her extra wet food to try to dilute it in her system. She was her perfect little self all day and night. Just perfect. 

This past week had me and the dogs staggering to bed "for a nap" earlier than I would like, and awaking somewhere around dawn wondering what the heck happened. I gave into sleep as my brain was so foggy and tired staying awake didn't make much sense. Used up all my mental energy at school, gritting teeth and ignoring a significant flare in my feet and legs, and digging deep into preparing quarterly grades and planning new projects. Never a shortage of distractions at school! That is a great thing. Tiring, though. I think I am coming out the other side of the tunnel -- with coffee, lots of coffee. 

The current piece has sat on the front table trying to get my attention through it all. "Hey, you!" "Over here!", "Ain't ya got five minutes?" it seems to grumble as I walk by it and leave it where it is. Thanksgiving break is coming, thankfully. Hang in there, bud. 

The house got a little needed organization and cleaning yesterday. I tackled the sewing room! Discovered that there were so many Homegoods bags filled with bits and pieces of the same thing that it is just a matter of organization. Tim found a terrific metal flat file-type cabinet being tossed out at work, so I had to reorganize all the furniture anyway. Got a new plant, threw out the dead spideys (sorry guys!) and best of all, hung a new shop light up last night so I can see what I am doing on the machine in its new location. Next will be the room I sleep in, as there is a real need for a similar treatment.  

Watch out, QC Auction, stuff is coming your way! For now things are filling up the back room, and it looks like hell, but I know it is temporary. I am at a point now where I am sorting things into zones -- upstairs is yarns, sewing room is fabrics, front room is beads, back room and kitchen is paper/cricut. My "sleep room" used to be the paper place, but is now drawing and painting supplies, but haphazardly organized in a panic when I was hospitalized last summer. When I think about it, I am living in my studio -- never mind a loft, this house IS an art space and just so happens to have a few residents. A living space needs to be useful...I will never be the type to have a gorgeously decorated living room that is never used. I am in awe of people who can do that, but know it isn't me. Too many interests, and with each, comes stuff. 

Concert tonight in Boston, early end thank GOD, and not a performer that makes me go gaga. I really like the music, but am not over the moon with idol worship, so it will be less stressful. I swear seeing Marc Almond contributed to the arthritis flare -- good stress is still stress! Lots on my plate for the next six months. The Boldishol Tapestry piece is due in June, the C&G coursework needs completing, and I have a series to make for the Library. Gotta be organized. Gotta be healthy. Gotta be rested. Gotta do art!

Veteran's Day...thank you to all who keep the world a better place, even when it is unpopular or difficult. Amen. 

Grateful for the day off and hoping to include a myriad of things that have waited impatiently on my lengthy to do list. Gathering legitimate dust, actually. My sewing room is inaccessible, and the hack I've used as a table for the past ten years is finally giving up. I'd balanced a hollow core door on two bookcases along one wall to have a nice long table that would allow me to draw, trace, cut, and have space for the computer and the cats. While excavating the room last night, I found that one book case has ruptured at the seams (thank you, kitty, for sharpening your claws on its cardboard backing...) and the "table" has bowed to the point of falling. Time to empty out the room and give it a good clean and reorganization...but when?  C'mon coffee!

Have to visit a laundromat today as well. The washer is coming next week, and thankfully the plumbing situation should be sorted by then. Apparently (but not surprisingly) the way it has been hooked up has been incorrect, and this will be fixed along with the bad hook up. God bless the plumber! Thank you, thank you, thank you...

The front room table that my friends and I gather around for class is heaped with a variety of art supplies and things that need to find new places to live. But where? When? Better be by Tuesday night, when they come over! 

Having lots of ankle trouble on both sides which is challenging. Which foot do you put weight on when they both are out of whack? The swelling is pretty consistent, and it is slowing me down, for sure. It isn't just the ankle as the tendons and ligaments that connect the ankle to the leg and foot are inflamed too. Trying not to say "uncle" and gag down a whopping dose of prednisone...but man it is tempting. It feels better to be off my feet, and the increased ouchies are energy draining, so I get more tired than usual.  When this first started years ago I went to a podiatrist who put me in a walking boot. Knowing that is the protocol and it is impossible to walk in two of those, and that there really isn't anything to do about this, I am not bothering to go. Even if there is a break in there somewhere, there isn't much to be done except resting it when possible. So, I look around me at all that needs to be done, and try to remain calm...lol...!

The current art piece for the course I am taking is moving along nicely, when I find time to work on it. I am delving into the nitty gritty of beading and loving it. Beads are the icing on the cake, adding light and reflection to the soft fabric and thread surface. So many kinds of beads to audition and use -- and I don't even need to go to Michaels as I *think* my bead hoarding has reached capacity and I have just about everything I'd use that they have. Is there such a thing as too many beads? Hmmm..

And finally, Teddie the puppy is turning out to be the most well behaved, lovely dog I could have ever hoped to have. She is affectionate, playful, obedient, and just so, so sweet. Her hair is growing rapidly and she looks like a mop head, but it is getting cold and she loves to run outside. Every day she is happy, and it is contagious. A definite angel, in the true sense of the word. 

​

The unicorn of all music events has now come and gone, and it was really special. None other than Marc Almond himself appeared at (of all places) The Paradise in Boston on Thursday night. To put the show in context, the last time I saw Marc play was in 2004 in London (during a trip just for that purpose.) His visits to the US are far and few between, and there is great inequity in his popularity here and in the rest of the world. I remember hearing his songs on the radio in Istanbul in the early 90's and being shocked -- that would never happen here. In America, he is sadly known as "that guy who sang Tainted Love." To the rest of the world, he is known as a prolific, multifaceted artist who fills concert halls and is considered a British National Treasure (awarded OBE, even!) And here he came to Boston, to a club only partially occupied by his die hard fans. As he hit the stage, he laughed and said "Maybe I should have told people I was coming!" and went forward to give us 110%. 

To say I enjoyed the show is a controlled understatement. The days leading up to it were filled with excitement as I made plans to also go to NYC to see him play in Brooklyn.  I had a car rental, a hotel, and was planning to meet someone at the show. Pre-RA, this would have been no problem. I wanted it to be no problem -- wanted it so, so much - that I fooled myself into thinking I could do it. 

But, leaving the Paradise, I found getting to the car was harder than I thought it would be. Standing for so long added to the leg and foot issues I normally have. Even Tim said his legs hurt as a result of the long standing time. Once home, I begrudgingly logged in online and cancelled my reservations, knowing the worst would be coming the next day. Thankfully, I planned for it, and accommodated the painful reaction to what most people would find unbelievable. Was it worth it to feel this bad after a concert? Yes! But, I am very disappointed in not being able to get to show #2, and to know that those days are most likely officially over. I used to be able to do a Boston to NYC RT in a day. Not anymore.  At least I could see Marc Almond play Boston, for what might be the first and last time, ever. Be still my heart! 

During the show Marc played one song from his upcoming album called Chaos and the Dancing Star. As always, his writing tends to reflect something in my own life, and offer perspective.  While I don't know the entire song yet, it's chorus is about having the world seem to fall down around us all, and how we've got to embrace the chaos. Truth be told, as I look around my house and know that now that the concert (and forgone travel plans) are over I have to deal with the broken washer, the pipe issue, the yard, and many more things that need doing. Thanks to Marc Almond's beautiful vocals and insightful writing, that becomes a whole lot easier. Art has to be on the menu, too. Every time I think he has released his last album, there is another. Every time I think I have seen him for the last time, he pops up again, wearing new found creative excitement and revealing another side to his complex artistry. What inspiration! Cheers.