For Ronnie and Nancy

It's been over ten years since I drew something that wasn't a quick stick-figure sketch of a design for something else, or a floor plan for the furniture in the apartment. This is the result of being out of practice and a bit squishy on technique, but it was fun to noodle around a bit with different colors than my usual black and white. I did this using wax pastel crayons on plain sketch paper with a bit of texture to it.

My brother-in-law is my favorite artist. I can remember as a teenager being stuck inside on yet another rainy weekend chatting over a cup of tea with my sister, while he doodled in a stream-of-consciousness fashion snippets of our conversation. Everyday events offered their own opportunities to create, and inspiration found everywhere. Getting hopelessly lost touring a historic cemetery became a theme for my sister's film project. Cooking on a limited budget meant never following a recipe. A school holiday meant accompanying him to the printmaking shop at university to try my hand at printing my own sketch off of a metal plate, while he finished an etching for a class assignment.

My sister was brave enough to know art was her future, and smart enough to know what path to take. She had a strong affinity for print and publishing and became a graphic designer. She is by nature a very practical person who is unafraid to admit when something doesn't work and make whatever changes necessary to grow. When she and her husband started their business print was still the main market for her gifts. They made the leap to web design and other electronic forums when that area was still largely unknown to the rest of us, moving to the West Coast to pursue their dreams.

To say these folks are my heroes would be an understatement. I am trying to make more room in my life for all those amazing things I experienced with them and with their encouragement. For anyone who doesn't have time for it, that sketch took ten minutes. Shut the TV off, put the phone down, and do some creative procrastinating. It's fantastic! And I don't use exclamation points lightly.

A cup of tea, some honey, and you-hoo

Yeah, today was kind of like that, complete with cackle and hairpins flying.


Everyone relies so much on email and other impersonal means to communicate now that I find myself often on the wrong side of things. Face-to-face is even worse. I do not have a poker face, so when I am angry it's there for everyone to see before I can even form a complete sentence. I hate confrontation. It takes a lot for me to speak up for myself or to disagree with someone. I'm talking climbing out of my skin and looking for the nearest exit uncomfortable. I wait too long and everything tends to come out in one long spew. Yeah, I'm a real pip.

Every day I try to be less of a jerk and more like the person who will be missed before she leaves the room. However, I tend to get things more wrong than right. I've hurt people because of my temper. Then it's not "I wonder which rock should I crawl under...," but "here, throw this one at me, and this one, oh and maybe this one too, while you're at it."

The only comfort I take is that I only have to do today once. If I forgot anyone, don't worry. Tomorrow will bring fresh opportunities for me to win that particular popularity contest where the talent portion involves a pack of matches and a bridge.

Go Speed Racer, Go!

Dreamed the powers that be enacted a law to allow horse and buggies on the HOV lanes. Back ups near Occoquan led to a new trend in road side stands and Whoopie Pies were suddenly all the rage.

And then I made myself wake up because it was all too ridiculous.

But a Whoopie Pie would be most welcome right about now...

Where is the good in goodbye?

Only in the agony of parting do we look into the depths of love.  ~George Eliot

Pride is a memento that clutters up the heart and gathers dust. Let it go.

Shemp Howard is My Stylist

After running for the bus with the back of my skirt tucked up into my pantyhose for the third time in as many months, I've come to the realization that maybe a little more care in preparing for the day should be in order. No one would ever accuse me of being a girly-girl, but I do try to make an effort to look presentable. It's just that lately things seemed to have gone slightly askew.

I am grateful that I do not have a job that depends on my stunning good looks and sense of style. I've been a "woman of a certain age" for a few years now, the pressure is off. Except for about a week in sixth grade, boys have always looked me in the eyes. And yet, last week, my blouse exploded. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, June busted out all over. I didn't realize the buttons fell off until after the meeting with the client's boss. The problem with cloth-covered buttons is they don't make that bullets-ricocheting-off-something sound that would have at least alerted me to there being something awry. One would think the breeze would have been a hint, but one would be wrong. The air-conditioning in our office is controlled by Yetis. It's always breezy.

Today, three people complimented me on how I "fixed" my hair. Here's the complicated method I used. I forgot a rubber band to pull it back in a ponytail and had to wear it loose. That's it, that's all. I fussed, well for me anyway. I don't think I even combed it. Tomorrow, I fully intend not to part it. I bet I'll be beating admirers off with a stick.

The beautiful is as useful as the useful...perhaps more so

Thank you, Victor Hugo.

This is just a small peek at the glamorous world that is a book and record store. People were sometimes envious, but I didn't get to read all day and the books didn't shelve themselves. This is where I discovered huge gaps in my education with regards to literature, music, and pop culture in general. With the help of my esteemed colleagues, I found a few new (and old) things to try.

Sadly, the shop closed, a victim of Internet sales and local competition, but it was fun while it lasted. If I were working a closing shift tonight, here's a few things I might be listening to...

Yo Yo Ma, Yo Yo Ma Plays Ennio Morricone, "Cinema Paradiso: Looking for You"
Slim Harpo, The Excello Singles Anthology, "Baby, Scratch My Back"
Al Green, Greatest Hits, Belle
The Quintet (Dizzy Gillespie, Charlie Parker, Bud Powell, Charles Mingus, and Max Roach), Jazz at Massey Hall, I sincerely hope you do enjoy "Salt Peanuts"
Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings, 100 Days, 100 Nights, Be Easy
Buddy Holly, Definitive Collection, "Think It Over"
Kinks, Well Respected Kinks, "All Day and All of the Night"
Neko Case, The Tigers Have Spoken, "If You Knew"
Wilco, Being There, "Say You Miss Me"
Galaxie 500, On Fire, "Strange"
Buena Vista Social Club, "Viento Anos"
Radiohead, OK Computer, "Electioneering"

Go on, be a daredevil. Pick up a book just because the cover intrigues you, or buy a CD just to find out what a song is about. Don't be a slave to others' tastes. You are so much more interesting when you know something I don't know. Yet.

Failing to Bits

My friends will tell you that my dreams are nonsensical and completely implausible. Yet I will follow the thread to the very end when I realize that no, this is not really happening, I am still in my pajamas. A champion worrier, I have even had anxiety dreams on behalf of others. Like the time the client I work for was facing the difficult task of selling colleagues on yet another idea from the higher ups, I dreamed we were teaching bears to tap dance, and I was quite good at it.

This morning, I dreamed I was vying for a blue ribbon at the State Fair. I was competing against a dozen or so women who all looked a bit like the lady on the Grandma Brown's Baked Beans can (for those of you unfamiliar, a pleasant looking, elderly woman with slightly blue hair). We were showcasing our preserves. Unfortunately, the market for pickled Brussels sprouts has not been discovered yet, and I did not win. However, I did get an honorable mention. I woke up before I discovered what the honor was, but I'm sure it was probably something like packaging a roll of antacids with it, or some other thoughtful gesture. The winner was some upstart with a bad perm and a jar of pretty pickled beets.


My father was big on hobbies. Nearly every year he'd try his hand at something new. He would approach each new passion methodically, as any engineer would, yet there was always a little something different. His first boat was a rather small dingy with an outboard motor, so naturally, he subscribed to Yachting magazine. He decided to try making wine, but rather than use the abundant supply of fruit from our yard (berries, grapes, plums, pears, cherries, and apples), he chose turnips. The wine was horrible, but he and his friends drank it anyway and fondly remember it as the most gawd awful hangover ever. I've learned that self-taught skills are often the most satisfying and rewarding, but the results are unpredictable and sometimes the "story" is the best part.

So today, as of this moment, I will be learning more things the hard way, and (hopefully) laughing while I'm failing to bits.

(This bit of mindful meandering is the result of a mother who should always get what she wants, family who have told me to DO something, and a generous and long-suffering friend who really deserves much better.)