On a reading marathon apparently. Reading the Amelia Peabody series by Elizabeth Peters, Fred Vargas and Margaret Doody. Non-fiction title this week is Culture-Infused Counseling, edited by Arthur & Collins and off the web and possibly off the wall as well, APA's Guidelines for Psychological Practice with Older Adults. The latter two titles had me researching Social Work degree programs at local universities and entertaining the thought of going to university in the fall. This is balanced by the desire, oh desire, where does that get you? of going to art school if I'm going to go to school.

Where does dreaming fit into this?--art school is a dream; it won't earn any money, it'll cost big bucks unless the school I'm interested in has a policy for 'seniors' wherein the fees are reduced or eliminated. Expected age when program completed: 64.

Now earning a Social Work BA is much more practical and certainly does interest me. It has the possibility of providing sufficient credentials to enable me to continue to earn an income; but that said I don't think I've canvased the options without a degree. Then there's the despicable fact that I enjoy studying; despicable in two ways, too often it costs serious money to study and secondly it doesn't make for easy conversation with one's friends when one is head over heels in love with some obscure subject matter and blathering endlessly about it. Expected age when program completed: 64.

Will you still love me, will you still need me, when I'm 64?

A Wednesday that feels like it ought to be Friday and damn there's no way I can make that happen.

Lovely long (four day) weekend coming up. Oh will I play! There's fleece to wash, pick or spin. There stuff to get ready so taxes can be done by the accountant (not play but must be done)--I'd rather pay someone than do that depressing task myself. Truly I don't want to know until it is time to sign something and fire it off electronically to the government. You know, like pulling the bandage off fast to get it over with.

Speaking of bandages, mine are gone, and if you can see the scar over my eye, you're in my personal space and need to back off. Came out of this last dance with a hard floor quite well all things considered.

Only a month left on my current contract and I am SO looking forward to having time to actually think complete thoughts. What's a complete thought look like? Oh, shit, I forget. Will probably have to excavate to find one and you know, that'll be so old. Oh yeah, I like that sort of thing, forgot that too. Working for a living interferes with life, thinking, playing and other life essentials which have long since drifted out of memory it is so long since I enjoyed them.

On the knitting needles: a top down sweater, which is knitting up at one helluva clip--I'm impressed. At least three socks on the go in different parts of my house. Ditto for books.