Day 66. Cowboy Boots - Old Gringo Style (SOLD)

I love cowboy boots.  You put on a pair of worn-in cowboy boots, and your feet just take on a confident gait of comfort.  I'd rather wear cowboy boots over a pair of heels any day!  In college, I had a great palomino pair of Nine West boots that I wore so much, I had to get them resoled twice.  Luckily I was in Austin at the time, the land of boots and repair.  Poor little beauties, I wore those babies into the ground!

Nowadays, my very favorite brand of cowboy boots is Old Gringo.  They are pricey, baby, which is why you have to hunt and hunt and hunt for them to get a bargain--and when they're gone, they're gone.  Here's a pair I wished I could have gotten:  the cross boot--does it say "the Old West" or what?  I do have a great pair, however; if you take a look at these babies, you can tell I've been wearing them for years.

Day 65. How to Make Snow Ice Cream - Magically Delicious!

That darn "Top Chef" finale.  I had to watch it, and it has made me stay up late.  I won't give away the winner, but I will give you a magical recipe.

Since snow is still flurrying around here, it's time to grab a fresh bowl of whiter than white snow and make yourself some snow ice cream.  This recipe comes from my Grandpa Peacock, and it really, truly tastes like that old-fashioned, homemade ice cream.  We used to crank and crank that ice cream machine in the summer.  Then we would put towels and rugs--the kind of multi-colored, lightweight, braided rugs you used to have to lay down on the floor in kindergarten and take a nap on for 30 minutes.  I hated those "nap" times.  I would just pretend to sleep, and think to myself, when will this be over?  A thought quite unsurprising considering my decision at 2 years of age to stop taking any naps, whatsoever (or so my mom tells me).

Back to the ice cream--ha!--which then would be placed under a shady tree.  Oh, the agony of waiting for the ice around the metal canister to thicken and chill that delicious concoction inside.  It was so worth the wait--so delicious--EXCEPT, all that work, and it seemed like it was gone lickety-split!  Everyone wanted a bowl!

With snow ice cream, however, you're only limited by the amount of fresh, clean available snow.

Whiter than white, let no yellow alight. 

(I just made that up.) (-;

In other words, keep the diggity dogs clear of your main ingredient!

O.K. so here we go.  Mix together in a bowl, the following:

4 egg yolks OR 2 eggs

2 cups of half and half or heavy whipping cream  

(milk doesn't have enough richness--or use WHOLE milk in a pinch--but you shouldn't really)

1 c or up to 1 1/2 cups of sugar

3 Tablespoons of vanilla

Mix it all up until well incorporated.  Add enough fresh, clean snow to get the correct slushy consistency.  You will not believe how closely this mimics homemade ice cream!!!

Now, we used 4 egg yolks** without the whites.  I looked online to see how my memory matched up with any current recipes, and the closest one to mine said to use 2 regular eggs.  I like using just the egg yolks--it gives the ice cream a beautiful yellow color and a rich, french vanilla flavor.  

**O.K., here's the big disclaimer:  We used raw eggs folks.  People are FREAKED OUT by this.  In my lifetime I have eaten gobs of raw cookie dough, raw pie crusts (with egg in it), and raw ice cream and I'm still alive.  STILL, eat raw eggs at your own risk.  I don't want anyone to die of salmonella poisoning and then pointing their finger at me from the grave.  Consider yourself warned!

Here's Paula Dean's egg-free version from the Food Network website:

 8 cups snow or shaved ice

1 (14-ounce) can sweetened condensed milk

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Place snow or shaved ice into a large bowl.  Pour condensed milk over and add vanilla.  Mix to combine.  Serve immediately in bowls.

****

Mmmm.  You're going to love me for this one.  However, I had another childhood recipe that may have made me a millionaire!  I was sitting out in my grandparents' front yard with a bowl in front of me, and my grandpa told me it was time to come inside.  I told him, "Not yet, I'm making witch's brew."  He asked me what was in it.  I said, "Witch's brew."  Of course!  Anyway, I ended up spilling this deadly mixture onto the lawn.  My grandpa said he wished he knew what I put into that stuff, because it killed the grass off and nothing grew in its spot for 5 years.  True story.  What they heck were they letting me play with? ha!  Ah, the unsupervised childhood freedom of the '70's!

Now, get back to that ice cream!

By the way, that's a tongue sticking out of my mouth catching snow flakes, NOT a set of duck lips--you'll see better in person. (-:  Should have taken this at another angle, but I'm too tired to fix.

Day 64 Wang Dang Doodle Koko Taylor Dirties Up a Little Rooster (SOLD)

You know how you can often see faces in things where there are no faces?  I do this all the time...in the bathroom floor, in wallpaper swirls, in the rocks in an alley, in trees...um, you get the drift.  Anyway, I "saw/envisioned" a rooster shape in a printed piece of paper.  That made me want to paint a rooster, but this baby just looked too sweet and cute.

I thought of Koko Taylor singing "Wang Dang Doodle."  Now, I saw Koko Taylor 3 times.  Once in college; once at Kingston Mines in Chicago (2548 N. Halsted, peeps); and the other time at the Chicago Blues Fest. (I am too young to have ever seen Howlin' Wolf rip it up.)  Anyway, I had to interject a little dirty blues onto this thing so I added a few of the songs lyrics and ran my fingers--lightly coated with black paint--over the surface.  I think it gave it a little bit of a letterpress print feel.  Anyway, nothing too complex, but here ya' go--a nice little dirty rooster.  It's cute.

An example of me seeing faces in things--From my 2nd Sketchbook for the Brooklyn Art Library--"Sandwich and Sandwiched Between"

Here's Koko Taylor and Howlin' Wolf servin' up a version of "Wang Dang Doodle."

Day 63. Adrien Brody

I'm working on a magazine submission so it has taken all my time today.  Still (I want to say "todavía" in Spanish), here's my drawing for the day.  A quick sketch of the beautiful Adrien Brody.  Well, I think he's beautiful!.  Oscar winner (Best Actor) for "The Pianist"; kisser of Halle Berry at the Oscars (isn't this great that I'm tying it all in with past Oscar shows since it was on yesterday--more on THAT tomorrow!); great as Salvador Dalí in "Midnight in Paris"; nasty (mmm hmmm) in 2001's "Love the Hard Way."  Heck, he even makes a Gillette razor commercial too hot to handle.  Ha!  O.k., here ya' go.

Day 62. Idle hands plus scissors equals disaster

Here's a lesson I absolutely seem incapable of learning.

No matter how frustrated or bored or happy or ingenious or capable or creative or depressed or needful of a change you may feel, keep your hands off your sewing scissors and DON'T trim your own bangs!

 

Day 61. Flummoxed

This chic tells me she's flummoxed, perplexed...

Or making a judgement--that pinched mouth!

That's what I felt when I was creating it and that was my story behind it.  But then her thoughts started to waver, and I could see her flitting between emotions.  Maybe her judgement wasn't as secure as she had thought; maybe she was questioning prior views.  Maybe she was...

At a turning point.

Day 60. Tied Up in Cerulean Blue $25

Well, I had 2 canvases I prepped for tonight.  As I waited for them to dry, I made myself a nice cup of hot tea.  I carried the tea in one hand and a glass of water for my paints in the other.  Now, I keep my beagle, Ebert, out of my art room, because it can only come to no good.  However, my two hands were full, and I couldn't keep my boy from running in.  No problem yet.  I tried to cajole him out.  He came forward and retreated--he's smart--and apparently good at the fox trot...step forward and step back.  Suddenly he stopped the dance and started rubbing his neck on...something.  What was it?  I look, and then I freeze.

Nooooooooo!  He had somehow dislodged the top off of a paint tube.  And not just some watery, easily removable paint.  Only the best paint for my dog.  Winsor & Newton Galeria Cerulean Blue Hue.  Nice, thick acrylic paint all over.  I took a quick picture of the tube, but it looked so innocent, like it was a tiny squish of paint.  Unfortunately, the vast majority of it was all over Ebert.  His white chest was now bright blue.  Blue paw prints trotted out my art room and down the hall.  I managed to grab him and got him into the bathroom.  My orange pants, purple top, boots, bathtub, and wall now covered with blue paint, too.  Luckily the hat that I was wearing for some reason remained unscathed.  Forty-five minutes later, I collapsed back in my chair, took a sip of now, ice cold tea, and started painting my Friday night.  Oh, Ebert!

Day 59 Two Tears in a Bucket...the point of making art (SOLD)

I read an article today about why people might not like your art.  One of the points was that it wasn't "in style."

Oh boy.  (That's putting it nicely.)

I hate rules.  Not the rules that are put in place to protect people, like driving on the correct side of the road.  I actually wish there were rules that said you should say "please" and "thank you."  Be kind.  That would be a nice one for people to adhere to in a day.

What I mean to say is, I hate rules that say you should wear this and not that.  You should feel this and not that or at least don't feel it all too deeply.  You should live your life this way and not that. You should make this kind of art in order to be fashionable or profitable or to be famous or to stick to one style.  Pleeeeease don't tell me how to live my one and only life.

Well, listen.  I'd love to sell all my work. I'd love to be famous.  But I wouldn't love to curtail what I'm feeling so I make sure that I fit in with the current mindset of society.  I mean, what's the point of that?  Maybe if you're just aiming for world domination.  I guess that might seal it, while you simultaneously feel like a fake or dead inside for not expressing how you really feel.

One of my favorite sayings of "getting on with it" comes from the book and movie of the same name, "Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil."  When the hormone-treatment-taking transvestite, Lady Chablis, says to John Cusack (John Kelso), "It's like my mama always said:  'Two tears in a bucket, mother fuck it.'"  (That's not putting it nicely.)

I already know that my style of art is not everyone's cup of tea, and that's o.k.  I do hope that some people like it--I even secretly wish someone would love it.  But in the grand scheme of things and in the quest of living life with some kind of truthfulness, I hope I like my art most of all.

Day 58 Violets, Tootsie Pops, Innocence & Kurt Cobain (SOLD)

This morning I was flipping through an art book and came across a page of small-boxed colors.  The first one that caught my eye was "violet."  When I read that word and saw that color, I took myself out of this frigid February and suddenly found myself walking home with my elementary school friends.

Not far from our grade school was a huge hill that would magically become covered with inky purple violets in the spring.  We used to pick all these pretty flowers in our chubby little kid hands and take them home to our moms and/or grandmas.  We would clutch them as we walked down the hill, over a creek, and down and up a huge, black-topped hospital parking lot.  Those poor little wilted bundles of purpleness were gasping for vases of water waiting at home.

The other constant I remember was unpeeling the wrapper from a Tootsie Pop.  Seemed like we always had one as an afternoon treat on our way home--victory after wading through new spelling words, cursive writing, and complex "greater than" and "less than" math problems.  Freedom was marked by these sweet treats.  And we'd always re-enact the Tootsie Pop commercial.  Anyone remember it?

"How many licks does it take to get to the Tootsie Roll center of a Tootsie Pop?".

Isn't it just so innocent?

Things did seem so much more innocent when I was a kid.  And, I know I'm not the only one who thinks that.  I think something good was going on in births in the mid- to late- '60's.  See, look at the big four vocalists from that era.

Kurt Cobain - Nirvana               2/20/67 - 4/5/94
Chris Cornell - Soundgarden      7/20/64       
Layne Staley - Alice in Chains    8/22/67 - 4/5/02
Eddie Vedder - Pearl Jam          12/23/64

And please don't forget other huge "grunge"/alt lead vocalists:
Mark Arm - Mudhoney                                              2/21/62
Mark Lanegan  - Screaming Trees                            11/25/64
J Mascis - Dinosaur Jr.                                             12/10/65
Buzz Osborne - Melvins                                             3/24/64
Andrew Wood - Mother Love Bone/Malfunkshun      1/8/66 - 3/19/90

ANYWAY, I remember Kurt Cobain saying the following in AJ Schnack's 2006 documentary, "About a Son":

"I've always felt like my generation was the very last innocent generation, ya' know.  When there was television that wasn't violent.  We didn't have cable, we had "Sesame Street," and "Speed Racer," and "H.R. Puff 'n' Stuff" and that's it.  Everything was a total fantasy.  Everything was just very basic and just medieval compared to things nowadays.  Kids are just so advanced and expected to be so much more advanced than they are."

My friend Shelley's husband, Dan, says that when we were kids, everyone would watch the same t.v. shows.  He's right.  I remember when we would all come to class and everyone would talk about "Laverne and Shirley" and what happened on "Happy Days" and Jimmie Walker saying "Dy-no-mite" on "Good Times." We all watched the same shows and all related to them together.  So many choices now...Dan says that the only thing remotely resembling that bonding in school the next day is when kids ask, "Did you see such and such on YouTube?"

O.K., sorry for this long stroll down memory lane.  I just find myself tasting a cherry Tootsie Pop and smelling the lingering scent of violets.  They stayed with me longer than I thought.

Kurt Cobain - About A Son

Day 57. Say Hello to My Little Knitting Friend SOLD

This is my friend, Yvonne Glasch.  In the last year, we've probably been at 5 art shows together.  She is a knitting dynamo.  I mean, the woman simultaneously knits standing up while talking to people and walking around.  One night she went home, studied some knitting pattern on the computer, and the next day had 6 long boot socks made within about a 1/2 an hour of the show's second-day opening.  Hats, scarves, mittens, boot cuffs, berets, you name it, she's got it.  She was a hairdresser for over 30 years and now she's accessorizing hairdos.  And one final thing, Yvonne is a real broad.  A fabulous woman who knows what she wants and has "things she wants to do."

I mean, I just couldn't figure out how she could fly through all these skeins of yarn and whip out high-quality product with the speed she does.  THAT IS, UNTIL the following little exchange occurred:

I said, "Yvonne, let me take your picture."  

And she replied, "Oh, let me wipe this powdered sugar from my cookie off of my nose."

WHAT!?!?!?!?!  Where was this so-called cookie?! Powdered sugar, eh?  Speedy hands of knitting wonder finally explained!  (-; 

Ha! ha!  Just kiddin' folks. As far as I know, the only lines Yvonne did were knitting lines. (-;  And she's such a good sport--she agreed to this story for the sake of art.  See what a grand dame she is?  I'm still going to call her Antonia Montana.  (Surely you know, Tony Montana from "Scarface.")

P.S.  The little Tool Close-Up circle holds Yvonne's weapon of choice.  Bamboo knitting needles that knit in a circular pattern.  Now, I know nothing about knitting, but I think it is so cool how every field--knitting, painting, drawing, jewelry-making, hydraulics, etc--how everything has tools and vocabulary and it's own world associated with it.  Isn't that so neat?  (-:

Day 56 Feline Gas Emissions-Brussels Sprout Style

For our recent anniversary, my husband and I headed to Wisconsin for a couple of concerts (Bob Dylan and Mark Knopfler from Dire Straits was one) and an art show.  We always take our cat, Norman, along on overnight trips, because he needs 2 insulin shots a day.

Here is Norman's story.  Kenny had been leaving food outside for him for some time.  One snowy November night in 2004, K. was lying on the couch recovering from surgery when he heard scratching in the food bowl outside. He opened our door, and there was Norman.  We had never been able to get close to him, but this time he came in from the snowy cold.  Now Norman is a BIG cat.  The biggest one we personally have come across--not just heavy (top weight was 23 lbs.), but, long legs/big-bodied overall.  We could feel bumps on top of his head and around his eyes, which we later found out were a spray of shots from a BB-gun.  We ended up having 9 BBs removed--incredibly, none had hit his huge, beautiful green eyes.  Anyway, that's the sad part.  The happy part is, we had him in our possession when we realized he had diabetes, and he is now healthy, happy, lazy, and incredibly spoiled.

AND, apparently, GASEOUS!  As we were driving along in our little truck, Kenny with coffee in hand and I with book, we suddenly smell the absolute worse smell!  Here's how it went down.

 

Kenny:  "Did you fart?"
Me:  "No, did you?"
Kenny:  "No..."
Kenny and I simultaneously:  "NORMAN!"
Me:  "It smells like Brussels Sprouts!  Since when do cats fart?  We're sooooo lucky!"

Actually, we're very lucky to have Norman...just not his gas bombs!

 **********

 Norman in the hotel room:

Day 55. Just a face, but maybe more

Just a face today.  Actually, I had many ideas, a couple different plans of what I was going to draw; I can't do them, though.  Maybe I'm just tired from an art show this weekend.  Maybe it's because I spent too many hours researching some things, making connections, networking, posting things on different websites.  All were fine, some great, while they were happening, but then a strange thing happened.

It's like I'd spent that time meant for creating to do business, and it drained the urge to make art from my veins to the floor.  And I feel like I can't draw a line...or at least not a fine line, not a detailed line.  But I can draw a think line, a loose line, a black line...a freeing line. 

What's wound, must be unwound. 

Do you know the Bruce Springsteen song, "57 Channels (And Nothin' On)" from '92?  For me it's like 57 ideas, but nothin' seems right (or wants to come out in focus).

My desk after the art show--materials and ideas for future paintings.  Can't find anything easily...

I bought a bourgeois house in the Hollywood hills

With a truckload of hundred thousand dollar bills

Man came by to hook up my cable TV

We settled in for the night my baby and me

We switched 'round and 'round 'til half-past dawn

There was fifty-seven channels and nothin' on

Well now home entertainment was my baby's wish

So I hopped into town for a satellite dish

I tied it to the top of my Japanese car

I came home and I pointed it out into the stars

A message came back from the great beyond

There's fifty-seven channels and nothin' on

Well we might'a made some friends with some billionaires

We might'a got all nice and friendly if we'd made it upstairs

All I got was a note that said "Bye-bye John

Our love is fifty-seven channels and nothin' on"

So I bought a .44 magnum it was solid steel cast

And in the blessed name of Elvis well I just let it blast

'Til my TV lay in pieces there at my feet

And they busted me for disturbing the almighty peace

Judge said "What you got in your defense son?"

"Fifty-seven channels and nothin' on"

I can see by your eyes friend you're just about gone

Fifty-seven channels and nothin' on...

Day 54. Mr. Croissant, You're So Full of Layers - SOLD

This one came together fairly quickly for me, because it has been baking in my brain for the last couple of days...ah, ha, ha, ha! (-;

Day 53. My Bloody Valentine Contest - No Longer Available

As she stared into her mirror and practiced her smiling sneer, Celeste vowed, "NO ONE is going to win the "My Bloody Valentine" contest except yours truly." 

Two-tone highlights, unfiltered camels, blood-red lips--ha!--that golden vampire stake was hers for the taking!

Day 52. Hope Your Valentine's Day Was Sweet

I hope your Valentine's Day was sweet. (-:

Here's a beautiful serenade for you on this day of love. I saw Chuck Prophet a few years back.  This is my absolute FAVORITE song of his, "No Other Love."  And my favorite little part is 2:09 to 2:16--the swelling of the strings, his holding the note longer than at any other time.  Beautiful! (By the way, the woman to his left in that clip is his wife.) It was also used in the Hilary Swank/Gerard Butler movie, "P.S. I Love You."

And here's a nice, romantic first kiss scene from the aforementioned film.

Now, back to Valentine's Day.  Ta, Ta!

Here was my chocolate-covered cherry martini for the evening:

And here was my parmesan-crusted chicken with caper butter (chicken parma) from the Uptown Grill:

Day 51. My Breasts Are So Soft.(SOLD)

Last night as I was stripping off my bra, something fluttery and white caught my eye.  I turned to look, and it was a fragrance-free Bounce® sheet!  I'd been wearing it all day tucked inside of my leopard-print brassiere.  I must admit, my breasts have never felt so soft--or antistatic.  (-;

Day 50 Mardi Gras-Someone Needs to Tell Tuesday

It's Mardi Gras--Fat Tuesday.  I hope you had a great one!

 

"Look, someone needs to tell Tuesday how FAT he's getting.  There won't be any room on the calendar for us!"

And now for a little French lesson:

  le mardi gras (literally, "fat Tuesday")

 Les couleurs de mardi gras ~ Mardi gras colors

Mardi gras has three official colors:

le violet   purple (justice)

l'or   gold (power)

le vert   green (faith)

Mardi gras' slogan is "Let the good times roll," which is translated literally into French as Laissez les bons temps rouler.

les jours de la semaine:  days of the week

   lundi   Monday

   mardi   Tuesday

   mercredi   Wednesday

   jeudi   Thursday

   vendredi   Friday

   samedi   Saturday

   dimanche   Sunday

À bientôt!

Day 49 She couldn't wait to wear spring dresses again (SOLD)

Thought I would try something completely different today.  

I had some tissue paper and Mod Podge staring at me and a howling wind outside.  That's all there is to it.

Can I just add, I used Tissue paper, Mod Podge, rose beads, acrylic water-based paint marker, paint marker, graphite, heavy-duty glue.  I feel as high as a kite flying on this imaginary spring day. 

Day 48. Shattered...Shadoobie

Shattered...Shadoobie! (-;

Now, back to the Grammys.

Day 47. New Orleans Love

Back in the early 90's--geez, I can never get away from givin' the age away--not too long out of college, I had a job as a technical editor at the National Center for Supercomputing Applications (NCSA) in the Software Tools Group (STG) at the University of Illinois.  I wrote all the documentation manuals for all our programmers as well as interviewed scientists nationwide for our national publication.  I helped create CDs for graphical images (this was actually something back in the day); acted as a film editor for promotional items; supervised other editors; traveled to NYC, Las Vegas, etc. for writing and computer conferences, blah, blah. (See how eloquent I am?  Ha!)

Now before you want to throw-up and say, OMG, please rescue me from this boring vitae of self-aggrandizement and braggadocious nonsense, you would throw me a tearful crumb and want me to tell you these things if you knew how far from early, promising career potential I have fallen.  Currently I am viewed as quite dispensible.

Now, I'll tell you why I'm looking back to a golden age. (-;  A nearby, small town is having their annual Mardi Gras parade and celebration tonight.  It started me thinking about New Orleans and one NCSA computer trip to the Big Easy during Jazz Fest.  I have all sorts of stories about that adventure, one of which had me standing alone on a dock.  Picture me on the left-hand side, here:

So, why I was alone there--originally coming with a group of about 20 people--I can no longer remember.  I think I was using a pay phone!  And then I hung up the phone, and there was a homeless-looking man suddenly beside me.  And when he turned towards me, rather he lunged toward me, a fat rat was on his shoulder.  He was trying to scare me, of course, and somehow, I acted like a cool, mint julep.

"Oh, that's so cool," I calmly say.

He doesn't believe me.  He lunges towards me again.

"Does he have a name?"  I continue my Steve McQueen impersonation.

"Ha, I know you're scared of it," he laughs.

"I say, no, I'm not.  My boyfriend has one," I lie.  But you have to lie when you're alone on a New Orleans dock with a strange man bouncing towards you with a rat on his shoulder.  Let the rodent sniff at his cheek, not mine!

And then, a funny thing happened.  He seemed to believe me.  And then we talked for awhile, and his blazing eyes--the man, not the rat--crinkled into a kindly squint, and the rat started to look more like a guinea pig. Um, with a long-ass rat tail wrapped around his owner's neck.

Somehow, I made an excuse and got out of there.  No matter how gentile it ended up being, a girl must take care of herself.  Ultimately, though, it just goes to show that in the presence of fear, sometimes a little conversation goes a long way.  AND, everyone likes to show off their pet. (-;

Day 46. Stocking Hat Loves Baby Powder

Do you think the use of baby powder rises significantly on Friday mornings?  Not because babies need their diapers changed more frequently that day or there is a preponderance of diaper rash breaking out.  It's because we're tired, ladies, and that last day of the week...

we sleep in a little too long, and 

the clock is ticking, and 

our hair is a little greasy, but not too bad, and 

the baby powder is just staring at us, and

Angelina Jolie puts a little in her hair, and

so does Rebecca Romijn, and

they look fantastic, so

why wouldn't I?

And so it goes, but somehow I never end up looking like a super model.  Instead, I have a whitish cast to my hair that still ends up looking limp by the end of the day.

So, I go to have dinner with a friend at a local Chinese restaurant.  I took off that stocking hat (or do you say cap?).  I'm thinking now, what a good friend, to stare at that hair for a few hours and not say, "Good gracious me, girl, get some dry shampoo and a curling iron out."  Anyway, we sat and talked forever, and then I came into the house and looked into the mirror, and lo and behold, my stocking cap was sticking off my head EXACTLY as depicted below.  I mean, it was one phenomenal, crazy, crooked, knitted creation rivaling "The Cat in the Hat."  I burst out laughing!  What the heck?  And complete with baby-powdered, strangly hair.  What a sight!  If I just added maple syrup and matted it a little, I would totally be on my way to the land of dreads!

La, la, la.  So, I had a completely different painting in mind for today as I walked into the house, but this one usurped it.  Kept my cap on the entire time I painted and wrote--have to feel the passion on my head.  I love the watery pink background on this one.  It reminds me of when you are coloring Easter eggs with those little tablets and vinegar, and you're so excited to see the color changing that you take the egg out with your hexagon-shaped copper wire lifter before the color fully adheres to the white shell.  Watery pink.  Dreamy background for stocking hat loving baby powder.

I fiddled with the dark blue on the cap after I took the pic--I like the shading on it better now, but I'm running out of time, peeps.  No time to post the updated one.  Still love it!  Mwah!

Day 45. This Way to Other Worlds SOLD

I love books.

This is a complete understatement.  I would love to expound, but some other time.

I've had a rough week.  I want to do just what this girl is doing.  Sitting in a chair, legs crossed, reading a real, honest-to-goodness worn hardback book.  A book smelling of aged paper, velvet to the touch, that will take me to other worlds.