I'm taking it back. The last post will not be the last post on this blog.

At some point between writing that last blog and yesterday, it occurred to me that this is the blog I ought to keep because Paper With Everything was just started on a whim and a newfound love of paper. This, on the other hand, is about everything I do: art, writing, rambling, scribbling,doodling.

Paper With Everything's still out there. I was going to delete it completely but I'm paid up until November so I think I'll let it hang out there for a while. If anyone's interested in taking over, let me know!

These last couple of weeks have me shifting from digital work to actual paint and gesso board. The work's delaying my rise as the geriatric Kate Spade but I'm learning a few things along the way:

   1. The shift re-energizes. When I'm stumped by something while painting, working on the digital  project allows for the space I need to regroup. Ideas pop in my head while working on illustrations in Photoshop.

   2. The right kind of music I listen to matters. I thought dance music will buoy my spirits and keep me going but the urge to actually dance is not suppressible. Audiobooks work better.

   3. I love my apron. It's no longer as pristine, of course.


   4. I get the same joy from working with actual paint that I do working digitally. So it doesn't matter if my bags are delayed. I'm still doing what I love. If Joseph Campbell's right, then I'm on the right track.

The website's going through a major overhaul as well. Editing is never easy. Deleting images is like saying goodbye to an unnecessary line (or paragraph!) no matter how your turn of phrase delighted you.


I've been turning to Spotify to provide me with music but guess what?! Spotify actually has audio books! Most of them are the classics, of course, but they also have a collection of poetry. At the moment, I have on The Carnival of Animals by Camille Saint-Saens with Noel Coward reading poetry by Ogden Nash. If I were still teaching, I'd have used some of the selections as take-off points for several learning areas.

My friend Gigi sends me links to a number of interesting articles that run the gamut from organic planting to eating healthy. Here's a recipe for Double Chocolate Peanut Butter Cupcakes I'd like to try as soon as I get the right number of bananas. The recipe calls for two medium ripe bananas. My fruit basket never seems to get it right. It's either there's just one ripe banana or several unripe ones.


I wrote this almost a year ago as writing practice. It can stand lots of editing but this is like my drafting space. Still amuses me that I used to rely heavily on my nicotine fixes and that I now can't even stand the smell of cigarette smoke!

She took a quick drag and blew the smoke out, turning her head to one side as she did. The smell of her own cigarette smoke nauseated her and for the nth time, she wondered why she was still at it. This trend of thought became part of the habit after one of her uncles once remarked that he quit smoking when he realized he was a smart man and it was only logical that he kick the habit. It was really the smart and logical thing to do although perhaps making that pronouncement amidst smokers was not. There was no recollection of anyone else kicking the habit soon after that incident.

As this event exited her memory, another one would take its place. This time, it was of her father's cousin who had found religion. With a smile that seemed to be destined to stay in place no matter the emotion, she said, "I hope you stop smoking so we can see each other in Heaven."

At the time, she could not think of an appropriate reply. She had been taught to respect her elders. As this cousin was not a frequent guest (praise the Lord!)the only thing she could think of to do was to match the plastered smile. So she did. Then she walked off and lit a cigarette.

Her mother was a smoker too. It seemed odd now but back then, ashtrays were part of the decor. There had to be several anywhere people tended to gather. In the 60's, it didn't matter if the adults smoked around children. No one talked about second hand smoke. A bunch of adults playing mahjong or poker partly obscured by a haze of smoke was commonplace. In her child's mind, having lacquered nails while holding a cigarette between the first two fingers was the ultimate in sophistication.

Nowadays, she didn't care about the lacquered nails or the sophistication. The pack of cigarettes lay beside her keyboard like a faithful pet. Reaching for it came next to powering up the computer. When there was work waiting to be done, the memories had no chance of swirling in with the smoke that barely had time to form before it was whisked off by the fan that kept the nausea at bay.


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