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I am UmberDove.

And by that, I mean an artist.  One who hears stories in the wind, who paints because it is what her soul tells her to do, who smiths because the muse moves through her fingertips, who loves nothing more than the promise of an unexplored trail, the sound of the ocean in her ears, and scent of a serious cup of coffee.


UmberDove and the Return to the Interwebs



It's been a week of small details, quick footsteps, huge talks, grey drives, and overload of scrumptious fare and the future shaping itself into view.

I feel like there are plenty of points that I should cover, so in no particular order, here's what on my mind:
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I love house guests.  I love the people I know, the ones who drive hours and hours to stay in your humble abode, the ones who love deeply on your beasties, the ones who are quite content to entertain themselves with journaling OR squander whole days eating, drinking, antiquing and trying on vintage coats.  If this sounds like you, then you should come over soon.  I've got crisp white sheets on the guest bed and a new jadeite mug for you to sip from.
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I started Radiation Therapy last Monday, the start of a [near] daily affair between me and a giant laser beam for six weeks.  He (the laser) gets to see my lady-goods (with his super X-Ray vision), and I get to fall back asleep on a metal table and let the final "cancerous cell clean-up" do it's business.  On that note, things are looking good, real good.  There was a tiny scare, which lead to an even tinier biopsy, which challenged me greatly in light of my determination to Dwell in my own skin, but in the end, ALL came back negative.  Which, really, is positive.  
* * *
I've spent a great deal of time last week finishing up small projects and tying up loose ends.  I'm striving for that clean slate feeling, where Time looks shiny and bright before you, uncluttered with the to-dos of yesterday.  I have too many thought of "new" in my head, and I'm determined to wrap up that which came first.  Reading back, this seems like the most mysterious blurb ever, but I know exactly what I'm talking about, and I suppose this paragraph is more a commitment to myself than anything else.
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One last thing:
Sancho would like you to throw for him.

Dog Park = SuperFun Time
He's available for kissing parties.

Also Endlessly.