Thursday, November 18, 2010
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Thursday, July 22, 2010
This month I've had
some daily adult "me" time free from parenting obligations...
some unexpected extra time to spend with my husband...
time to take a class about chain-making...
two back-to-back unplanned opportunities that were too good to pass up involving positive changes to my art studio space.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
so this month I
like the parks and recreation department...
am thankful for good doctors, modern medicine, and good benefits...
am still a bit scared of my torch...
hope I can work hard enough to bring this plan from concept into existence.
. . . . . . . . . . .
Do you like my hat?
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Monday, July 12, 2010
It is a kind of a tear file and visual reminder of things I see in the paper or anywhere that give me any kind of a creative idea or good thought about life in general. I like being kind of messy about what goes in there, just glueing it with the glue stick, not all that carefully.
The purpose of keeping it is for jump-starting myself when I don't know what to work on next. It is still that, but it has also become just for looking at and feeling good.
I began making entries in 2006. My book is small and black, and smudged on the cover. It is warped. I keep cutting off the year from the calendar in my desk drawer and adding that to the front. I usually get around to that in May or so. No rush.
My pages are filled with a collection of pictures of various green items, next to the face of Jesus with black skin, next to the obituary of my favorite high school Spanish teacher. I have quite a few dog pictures in there, and some lakes and kayaks because I might go kayaking someday. It has recipes, paint textures, pictures of rust, and many, many trees and flowers and pathways in the woods. It has sterling silver jewelry, pictures of Santa Fe, and the words of a cancer survivor who said to get up and fix yourself up and proceed as best as you could.
Sometimes when I look at a page I cannot find one single reason why I chose it, and then I wonder what I was thinking about on that day. Usually there is something in there that makes me cry.
This week I have been computer-generating some small working studies as the starting point for large acrylic paintings, so tonight "Birth of a Daisy" goes into my journal too.
This was truly one of the nicest dogs God ever made. He was one of the seven that lent this blog its name, and he left us peacefully and suddenly without warning. You will be remembered and missed, Buddy.
my starting point
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Sunday, May 23, 2010
I love the blue spruce, the chipmunks, the blue jays, the booming afternoon thunderstorms, all so different from what seems like the ordinary environment of home down below. I still vividly recall our glorious trip one magic time on a houseboat on Lake Powell.
We camped with our pets, a line of cats and dogs on various trips throughout the years. The cats did surprisingly well, catching rodents with ease, and for the most part staying close by. We did suffer one loss, an ornery siamese named Sesame that couldn't be found on the last day as we packed . We hoped that her markings and size distinguished her as a house cat, and that she encountered people who gave her shelter at the bait and tackle shop and general store nearby our camp . I still laugh in the retelling of the time one cat got sprayed by a skunk and then slept in my tent, rendering our sleeping bags, clothing and campsite so stinky that we moved across the road. We watched as new campers came to that spot, and in vain moved the cumbersome garbage can to a spot further away. Afterwards, one man yelled back to his friend, "Is it any better now?," while we watched in smelly and private hilarity from a safe distance across the road.
I live in a modest house, in the center of a large city. I travel mostly by car. I live cooled by air-conditioning, safe from any storm, my meals provided by the luxury of going to the grocery store and picking out pretty much whatever I want within reason and cooking it. My walks are on the flat sidewalks of my neighborhood. The stars I see are greatly dimmed by the lights of the city. Summer storms don't easily penetrate the wall of heat rising up from the pavement all around my neighborhood. Even the climate where I live, it seems, is bent by the effects of modern city life.
Now I'm grown, and it is my turn to do the work of getting ready to camp and of settling back into our routine when we come home. I still like the thrill of seeing the beauty of the plants and critters when we go. What magic it is to see a quiet deer if I can catch a glimpse. I like the pleasure of grubbing around without the conveniences of my daily life, and the pride of being able to rough it. I like the musty smell of unpacking my duffel bag of clothes that reek of campfire smoke when I come home, tired and sunburned in spite of my old straw hat and my sunblock.
I like the beauty of the forest.
I like the private joy I feel inside myself when I think that the same God who created all these beautiful things created me too.
So, what do you think?
Can you read it?
It's all in fun, and I probably will change it again, but here it is for now, anyhow. Just wondering what you think?
I have noticed as well that I am receiving comments from readers who post in an Asian language. Thank you, and Oh, how I wish I knew what you were saying! If you are able to please include an English translation as well, I would really like to post your comments.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Thank you Mom for countless lessons, for so many phone calls when I needed to visit, for teaching me how to live. I love you.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Monday, April 19, 2010
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