"An' then I kicked at him like this!" exclaimed one, as I approached. He launched a poorly controlled assault at the air that missed my midsection by inches. I quickly passed to avoid further physical involvement.
"Stupid, you almost knocked out that old woman," chastised the second.
"She's not old, she just has a lot of hair," observed the third.
They paused to allow this shift in their perception to sink in.
"She should get it cut," said the first.
"No!" said the third, who was rapidly becoming my favourite. "I bet she has a lot of fun head-banging."
I turned my head enough to see him stop in the middle of the pavement to proffer a convincing demonstration. I had to move on swiftly so they wouldn't hear my laughter.
I don't think you're supposed to feel this way in winter, but lately I've had the sensation that I'm "waking up" creatively. Writing is flowing more easily. I have more ideas for photography projects than time to execute them. I've been painting, though am not presently inclined to share the results. I conserve as much precious energy as possible to spend in the studio. Consequently, I'm no longer a person at the party that people can count on to pull out all the stops and to carry on all evening. I regret the loss of this type of enjoyment, but not enough to prevent me from hopping on the train at 10 rather than midnight to go home.
Finally, the obligatory Adorable Kitten Photo.