It's 2025.

I've not looked at this blog in over four years. I forgot about it. Reading through a little, I recognize myself, but it seems like from another era.

I write on Substack now in a publication I call Dot Dot Dot ...  It's less diaristic and overwrought than what I seem to have here (I only read a little) but more storytelling: a series of personal narratives that are less and more intimate at the same time. Differently intimate.

The photo-taking and walking have become the main part of my studio activity. What started as Covid coping in a disastrous political environment is now my key expression in a fascist-growing environment. It's hard to believe that the same asshole I was writing about then is back; it's a nightmare made real and ongoing. It's unclear how, whether, or when we will reclaim the country's democracy. I contribute to the resistance with time and money, but not enough.

This is my last post here. I link to this blog from my website, which I keep pretty current and has a contact form if you want to reach out. This blog may find itself mentioned in a Dot Dot Dot ... story now that I know it exists.

I peeked at a very early post here (In My Head, Gardening, July 28, 2010!), which documented a fall I took while running. Since then I have broken my ankle, elbow, and wrist while ambulating, plus other less damaging tumbles. At 68, I don't bounce like I used to.

I post photos to Instagram and BlueSky @lizsweibel. Say hi if you get there from here!

Part of an IG series of my pink sneaks on walks