Art for Arts Sake

So far, I have spend my first day home trying to pull everything together while pretending that it’s not all a mess. It’s a mess. After my appointments today I got groceries and I’ve started tidying so at least it doesn’t look crazy around here.  I’ve noticed that if it looks crazy I feel crazy.  When the physical stuff is sorted, it helps me be sorted too, so I think that when I catch up with the abject disaster that is our home at present, I’ll be able to move in some straighter lines.

Joe (who really put a big dent in the disaster last night before I came home despite being so overloaded at work that it would be a human rights violation if he wasn’t self employed) took the good camera to work today, so the Laminaria photo shoot will have to wait another day or two.  Instead, all I can offer you is proof that the November edition of the self-imposed-sock-club is churning along.   This is still sock number one, which is a bit of a bad sign, but I did work on it in the airport –

and on the plane on the way home.

When I took that picture, camera and sock held up to the airplane window, trying to capture the clouds, the wing and the pretty colours of the sky, the guy next to me stared at me the same way that you would expect someone to look if you’d just started trying to put a whole cow into your purse.  He goggled at me, as I juggled my stuff around and searched for the right light and angle.  When I turned back around in my seat to put it all away, he shot me a questioning look, and opened his mouth – then closed it. 
"Sock at sunset." I said.  "It’s art."
"Oh." he said. 

He didn’t look relieved. I didn’t expand.