The last thing I could bring you. Photo by Leslee Hare The last thing I could bring you wilted before you left. You smiled and I cried even though I still believed that you’d be coming home. Soon. I didn’t know flowers were not allowed inside the MICU. I’m glad I didn’t care and relieved … Continue reading the last thing i could bring you
Today’s subconscious sketching result.
I finally accomplished clearing off my work table today! It's taken six months, slowed by a lot of tumult, but I'm ready to paint. I gave up 12" of counter space in hopes of keeping Prissy off of my work... who am I kidding. Off course she leapt straight onto the table from on high. … Continue reading progress!
I don’t have the bandwidth, train wreck. By Leslee & Midjourney with help from Goya’s legacy.
In 850 words or less, that's my life until I learned, at age 56, that I'm autistic.
July 2020 will ring in my memory for a while. Not because of COVID-19, protests, elections, or wildfires. On July 7, a video chat announced that I'd lost my job. For the third time in four years, unemployed. My inner liberty bell rang — time to quit trying. The job-loss showed me how deeply Autism* … Continue reading writing — because i can