Misplaced Muse

I've misplaced my muse. I don't know where I put it, or if it ran away. Maybe it's in hiding, waiting for the weather to break, like I am.
I've looked in all the usual places, my indoor jewelry studio, my outdoor glass studio, under my bed, in the closets, even in the books I use for inspiration. It has vanished. No trace of it. I really miss it.
I know it can't have gotten very far, because I just had it a few weeks ago. Like most precious things, I must have set it free, hoping it would return to me refreshed and renewed. I hope it returns soon because I am really lonely without it.
Please, let me know if you see it, and ask it to come back to me. I will be more respectful of it, I promise, and will cherish it they way it deserves.

It's really easy to get behind

because I haven't written here for over a week! Life has been busy, crazy, and I am just getting back into the swing of things in Phoenix. It was really hard coming down the mountain that final day, and I have been in a funk ever since. It didn't help that I took a weekend trip to Cleveland over Labor Day, a place that's not exactly known for its weather. It rained, of course, alot.
I am trying to gradually ease myself back into my everyday life, not the fantasy life I had in Flagstaff, but I am torn between jumping in feet first, or gently immersing myself back into a regular routine. Either way, I am kicking and screaming. I really wish I were a more accepting type of person, but I don't think that will ever happen for me. If I really don't want to do something, I plant my feet and try not to budge, and if I have to budge I am sullen. Not one of my more attractive qualities, but it is something I own. I know that.
I am trying to get in touch with the creative side of me, to ease the transition. I finally got to spend some time at the torch today, and it was productive and calming. If I take baby steps, and am more gentle with myself, I just might come out of this stormy place.

The final weekend is here

and it's a teary-eyed time for me. I feel almost as sad as I did when we left Florida to move to Arizona. I didn't know it was possible for me to become so attached in such a short time. But Flagstaff feels like home to me. Whenever I drive up the hill, my heart is lifted and I feel buoyant and happy. The mountains welcome me, and all of the greenery makes me feel alive. This truly has been the best summer ever!
Now its time to look forward, instead of looking back. My memories are stored, to be brought out when I need a pick-me-up. It's up to me to find a way to make Phoenix bearable. I do have lots of work to keep me busy, and there is a festival on Grand Avenue September 26 that I will be participating in. Next week is First Friday at Marsiglia Gallery, and then I will be in Cleveland with my son visiting my mom and brother.
Bob knows how I am, so he has booked a weekend in Venice Beach for us, and there is an art show the same weekend. He knows how to cheer me up.
And the mountains aren't going anywhere. They will be here for the next trip, the next visit, the next summer. Just in time to renew spirit again.