Ahh well, here it is, the end result of my "mental health day" from my primary job - the unlikly position of being an administrator at a school for massage therapy. I took the day off - after going in and working until 10:30 or so, with the intent of getting caught up on my freelance work as a copy writer, but instead I went to the St. Louis Art Museaum and the library - they've moved the big Kabalistic art sculpture of the tree of life down from the modern art gallery and I have to wonder what lengths did they go through to ensure that all the chaotic broken glass ended up in the same arangement it had upstairs - and why didn't they dust the glass - or did they move it long enough ago that new dust has accrued? I spent some time with a new Fredrick Church painting - a late work in large scale with small figures in the foreground. Joyce, the old assistant curator told me to watch for that. A guard told me he was blessed, a workman felt embarassed when I surprised him in a moment of slack, he was gazing out a second story window at the children sliding down art hill post snowstorm. We talked about what the hill was like when we were kids, no hay bails to stop you shooting off into the lake - no fancy fountains running even in the dead of winter. After the Museaum I made soup and walked the dog. I did yoga in an effort to gain ground on my expanding waist - yes I did yoga - I guess I'm a metro sexual.