Or maybe we're not. I wish I knew how to say this better than Ursula V. does, but I don't.
And so this is going to be one of the shortest posts of my blogging career. Because she said it so much better than I ever could.
On the other hand, I could tell you about the last day of winter quarter of museum school on Saturday, where I learned more about exhibits from a curator's point of view in the morning, and got to see what everyone else's exhibits projects were about in the afternoon. Everything from the history of perfume to ancient ships rescued from the bottom of Davy Jones's locker. Fascinating stuff, and I wanted to see them all as real exhibits, not just words, diagrams, and pictures in notebooks.
Or I could tell you about how I spent four hours today continuing to unwrap and reconnoiter hats. Six boxes worth today, twenty-odd hats -- and some of them were very odd indeed. I was especially enamored of the little straw newsboy cap with the feather/ribbon hybrid accent. And the ~110-year-old top hat. Then there was the bright red sort of turban with the clusters of inch-long wooden cherries strewn all over the brim (turbans don't have brims, but, well). And the black velvet toque with what looked like beaded bulls-eyes scattered over it.
People wore some very strange things on their heads in the olden days.
I am very close to halfway on the Klondike half of the rough draft of what I hope will become the sequel to Repeating History (the book, not the blog). Half the book takes place in the Yukon. The other half takes place back in Yellowstone. No, this structure is not what I would have preferred. It seems to be working, however.
Oh, and here, have a view of my front garden. It's actually beginning to look like spring. The snail's name is Alistair.
And so now maybe this post isn't quite a short as I thought it was going to be.
So we are doing it right. Go read Ursula's post, anyway.