Had to get some stuff lined up today in preparation for this Examiner thing. Needed a photo and bio. Bio was easy. Photo was tough because I don't like the way I look these days, and I didn't like any of my current photos. So I fixed my hair as best I could and put on makeup and had Barry take a few shots. I tinkered with one until it looked a little dim and fuzzy and forgiving.
Also rejoined Facebook. Honestly, it makes me feel kind of exposed, but I guess that's a trade-off for being able to promote various interests. And there are definitely some people I want to stay in touch with and still others I want to find.
I'd love to finish the second new necklace before Saturday, but it may not happen. The work wreaks some havoc on my back, and I'm also starting to get sore legs from a week and a half of limping and walking on the ball of my left foot. I was hoping to get out and walk tomorrow but I may not be up to it, plus it may rain. I don't know if I can get a sneaker over the bandaged foot. I just replaced my sneakers a few weeks ago and the new ones are still a bit stiff, so it's tight getting my heel in under normal circumstances. Saturday's footwear solution may be sandals and a car service.
I'm realizing that I may get better results with my jewelry if I package myself a little better. The types of new clothes I've been getting, like Mission Canyon, is known as "wearable art." As big a cliche as it is, I'm kind of turning into that "goddess years" babe with the batik tunics and the clunky jewelry. (My mother went to grad school with so many of them that my brother and I used "social worker ladies" as shorthand.) But we postmenopausal tunic ladies aren't just social workers and therapists. Some of us are jewelers and blues columnists. (BTW, here is the basic guide to old-babes-in-tunics, courtesy of one of my very favorite cartoonists, Roz Chast. I wish there was some way to enlarge that image; they print the basic text but not some of the cartoons within the panel. The girl in the upper left is saying to her be-tunicked mother, "Mom, you're starting to look like Aunt June!" Roz just nails that shit.
Anyway, I'm going to embrace my inner old-hippie and sell jewelry in big bright tunics and makeup and plenty of jewelry on me.