going to a pagan festival to volunteer but unexpectedly finding myself in some kind of work camp.  the area had a few hills but was mostly flat and the grass was becoming the spiky dry stuff of winter. there were piles and piles of metal pie pans, all of them shaped like fir trees.  they told me i had to pull out those that were different.  that was easy.  i could tell which ones would bear fruit.  i wanted to paint them, but because i was so good at sorting, that’s they only job i was given at any festival.  rows and rows of picnic tables in the middle of nowhere, covered in identical tree-shaped pie pans and people working hard.

we were walking through chicago and feeling the effects of so much work.  we had picked out a hotel down the street a ways, but i knew of one closer.  we went a block north and somehow ended up at a Macy’s hotel? we got a room on the top floor.  i asked the front desk not to put anyone below us because we were going to be loud and didn’t want to cause a disturbance.  really i just needed a lot of personal space. i felt emotionally raw and physically exhausted.