Festival End

My feets hurt.

I smell of a unique combination of dirt grass sidewalkchalk chocolatefromiccreambar porta potty weebitofspiltbeer kerosene latenightportapotty and freezedried wet (alternate windy cold and sunny all day!)

Which means I had a great day.

I’m currently in the process of uploading many, many photos. Yippee!

Festivals like this always make me sparkle with wonder and possibility.

I want to be a photographer (realizing this one more every day, I like taking the unnoticed shots)

I want to be an artist. Paint. Not sidewalk chalk.

I want to sing…not necessarily on stage.

I want to be a happy hip mom.

I do NOT want to be a happy hip mom. (Yet- God Bless you stoller happy families!)

I want to write.

I want to be knee deep in the action.

I want to hide and watch the people go by.

I want to be with my friends.

I want to play.

I want to plan and organize.

I want to volunteer.

I want to go to sleep.

PS. No apartment.


Whatcha talkin' bout Willis?