Sewed In

Happy New Presidency.  Oh, come on - y'all knew I was a liberal, right?

I worked through a lot of the ceremony, so I caught up minimally online.  I saw Amanda Gorman's poem, I saw the swearings-in.  I'll say that Joe Biden's family bible certainly looks more used, well-worn, and impressive than the hotel nightstand copy his predecessor held up in front of not-his church last year.  But I am not a bible expert.  So...

I have been digging into a web publishing project at work, and it feels like Penelope in the Odyssey - I weave and unravel, weave and unravel - though, not of my own accord.  It seems like we'll never have it "under control" - but of course, eventually we will.

I find myself back under the spell of Stardew Valley.  The designed released a new version just before Christmas, and I honed my skills enough to get pretty far in.  Now I'm at a bit of an impasse.  There are four storylines that are waiting to get to some kind of "next".  They are all timesucks and they all revolve around needing just one thing to get the ball rolling.  Of course, it's a chicken and egg thing, because sometimes, to get one of the things you need, one of the others that you need is instrumental.  

I need to step away for a bit and do some reading or something with a little more nutrition to it - but I'll be damned if the lack of a prismatic shard is going to keep me from getting into the mines...where you get prismatic shards.  See what I'm dealing with?  Yeah.

This.  This is what haunts my nights.

So, you know - life imitates art imitates life.

Speaking of art, our local museum, the Frist, will be exhibiting works of Pablo Picasso starting next month.  We got tickets for one of the later dates, along with my sister-in-law and her boyfriend.  Having been to the Frist in pandemic times, I know that they stagger the number of people entering at any given time - tickets are pre-sale only.  And there are temperature checks, social distancing, and all the hand sanitizer you can eat.  Wait, what?

And I don't mean to imply that the Frist is the only museum in town.  We have the Museum of African American Music that just opened (I hope people start calling it the Ma'am).  We have the Country Music Hall of Fame.   We have small museums dedicated to a variety of musicians.  We have a Duke's of Hazzard museum near my office, fronted by the man who played Cooter.  I was not a watcher of the show, so I can only imagine that Cooter was a simple man with a heart of gold.  Racist gold, but gold nonetheless.  Dukes of Hazzard was verboten in my household.  In Kindergarten, there was a group of boys who would chase each other around the playground and that game was called "Dukes of Hazzard".  One lucky girl was given the role of Daisy, and I believe it was her job to just stand there and watch.

Another fun game that we enjoyed was "Girls Chase Boys" and its equally popular spinoff "Boys Chase Girls".  The rules of both were simple, and the two iterations could be played simultaneously for maximum chaotic fun.

Simpler times, mes amis.  

And with that, Penelope is off to weave some more web docs.  And then unravel them.

Stay sane.

ae