I need to get out...

I drew this when I was 3. I think I was in church. My grandmother kept it. I wonder what it says about my past lives (or my current one)?

To me, today, this drawing says: I WANT TO GET THE FUCK OUT.

Coming off of the Finnish death plague which forced me to lie around my house for over 2 weeks, I have developed a new sort of plague -- cabin fever. I need to get out.

I need sunshine.

I need palm trees.

I need to not wear a coat.

Up here in Seattle, it needs to stop raining, I need to stop buying gifts for the home, and quit making gluten free brownies from Trader Joe's (they are good for you if you use applesauce, right?)

I've decided my goal for this week is to try to take a bike ride, (I NEED A BIKE RIDE) despite my busted arm and my screwed up back (gee, thanks again stupid lame ass fake blonde woman for t-boning me last summer! love ya!). I think a lovely bike ride might just be the ticket out of cabin fever hell.

Just don't tell my physical therapist.

Or my massage therapist.

Or my doctor.

Or my surgeon.