Dating an artist is a tricky endeavor. Mood swings broad and dramatic are common and it is nothing to see them work for hours on end on a single project and then go a week doing nothing but picking lint out of their nicely pierced navels.

In my case, L. tells me she is going to Toronto for a month long workshop/symposium and that she will "see me when she gets back." I am not invited or expected to attend and she seems perplexed that I would want to go. "It would be boring...sitting around a dorm waiting for me to finish projects and stuff.."

That's probably true, so instead I will sit here and make up lurid daydreams about my SO working with broad shouldered potters. The kind of guys who make a series of pots to coincide with the metamorphosis of a butterfly. Or the kind of guys who can write haiku in braille on the side of vases. Maybe she is listening to a tall, dark haired guitar player singing soulfully about Green Tea and angst. The kinda stuff she loves, sad to say.

She says this little break is good for us. It's just negative space and we can fill it full of dreams and imagination.

She is more right than she knows.

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