5:56 a.m. smart-phone time. Dateline: [my address], kitchen (well, dining room) table. One (Readers) can assume all of my journals written since July 2011 were written at this address, at this table, unless otherwise stated. I should pro[cat in lap]bably include this more often. What to draw today—let’s put it in lower left corner so it can run onto blank facing page. Back at 6:03 after visual-arting. It’s done with my chalks—it seems a bit ominous—but then, I never know what things will look like when I just start with a rough idea (the squares close together) and go from there. So, yeah, napped noon, well, about 1 (M & I were cuddling in bed and I was thinking about getting up at 1 but I pushed alarm back) ’til 2 and then went to [county historical museum] (after getting gas first) and there was a couple researching family there and the woman part of couple said some matriarch had lost her husband and also a son in months’ time—and how horrible—well, OK, but I was thinking of that scenario less as horrible (or whatever word she had used) and more just lonely—how much change she had to adjust to, live with. I told my cemetery (“Burying Grounds of Hickory Grove”) story to [historical society member], who said it’d be good for a Halloween newsletter or something.
[From journal of Mon. 30 Sept. 2019, Journal 309, page 87]