Just another Thursday night. Rick is in the office, blogging. I'm in my favorite room, also blogging. The "dining room", is really the sweetest little round room in the house. It happens to be next to the kitchen, so it has the big recycled teak table in it, but it also has a big-window view of the world, and a small couch, and a fireplace. My laptop fits ever so conveniently in my lap, as I sit here and listen to the rain. It's been raining all day... the second day this week. Tropical storms are somehow finding us, and it seems odd and normal at the same time. I guess I have to give up on weather. It's always out there, and it always does what it wants. Normal is not something we have anymore in this world. Like the tattooed lady says, "Might as well make Chaos your friend." We skipped the Taj Mahal concert tonight. It was at the Solar Center, which is an outdoor venue, made for summer, but not necessarily for chilly, drippy, dark fall nights... I don't care how many tents they have... Sorry Taj! We do love you!

Do you get the Sundance catalog? I do, when the mail carrier doesn't steal it. I have a new one today, so after dinner (thanks for cooking, Rick), I flipped through it for a little break from normal... When we lived in Seattle, there was the first-ever (maybe only-ever) Sundance Store, in the University Village. I loved that store. I'd go there now and then, just to wander around, fondle the fine fabrics, and sit in a really great leather chair. I bought a few things on sale, but mostly I just went for a mental vacation. It was a wonderful place. I even had an appointment with the manager once, to show him my jewelry, in hopes of selling it in the store. It didn't work out. I didn't want to do mass production or custom work even way back then. Ah, well... no big deal. The catalog is still a Special Place for me to go. Maybe one day I'll go to Utah and see the Place itself. But for now, a little personal oasis is a good thing to have. When mainstream fashion magazines consistently make me feel ugly and inferior, I know I can count on my good friend, Robert Redford, and his crew, to make me feel like the fashionable rebel hippie chick who still lurks deep inside me. The point? There's no need for one. Pleasure in a mail order catalog is something we've all but forgotten in this culture. Turn off the TV and give it a try. There was a time when the Sears catalog was the most happening thing around...

Again... my point? No point, I guess. Just another Thursday night...