Precious, dwindling time in the chicken workshop.

I've had little time to hole up in the studio this week, as I've been visiting various corporate possibilities, spewing words out of my word hole, sick of hearing the sound of my voice. Amazingly, I'm being called back for second, third, fourth, etc, interviews. Which is a job, all by itself. I come home from these exercises more knackered than at the end of any conventional workday. I have three days until I have to go in to Quintessential Seattle Company No. 1 for my fourth visit. Oh, just give me the fucking job, already.

Fallow Fall.
We've been having a very dry blue Fall here and its really throwing me off my game. It's not just that I feel I need to be out in all that blueness, which I do, but there are a lot of things that need to be done indoors, too (psssssssssssssthint: like painting!) and I stress about the need to do both and time is all tick tick tick and sometimes it just makes me spin my wheels. I do my best work when the weather outside is frightful.
I finished a lap quilt (well, actually two: the first one was ugly but functional but as soon as I saw it on my couch, I knew I'd never use it precisely because it was ugly). So, this new one is 50s barkcloth - a design attributed to Dali - with velvet, backed with fleece. I'm happy with it: it's a beautiful thing and very comforting. I just like a little sensuality in my comfort, is all. Like extra butter on the mashed potatoes.
I finally switched out my Spring quilt to my Fall one, even though our nights haven't been all that cold. This is fine with me, since Ester is going through her third fucking molt of the year. Apparently, the feather ratio readjustment makes her lose her equilibrium and she sways around like a drunk. I think it makes it hard to steer. Sometimes they'll all be running behind me and then they make a turn but Ester just keeps on going in the original direction. It's only slightly less distressing to watch for having seen it once before and then I thought she was dying. Even another chicken owner exclaimed "That chicken is sick!", but no, that's just Ester molting. Again.
I have a busy week with interviews. A necessary evil. At least I'm refreshed enough (not really) to dunk myself in some new fresh hell. I think now I understand on some new level the importance of work. At the end of the day, you've probably changed nothing, except how someone consumes something, but it is something about the hive, brushing up against it, even if it's just to have a bit of road rage getting there and back - its all an exchange of energy and you alway, ALWAYS, (and its always so easy to forget) wield the power to influence the positive and negative factors of that singular, everyday experience. So, wish me luck. Because I give one shitty interview.