Recently, I’ve been

• smelling basil on my porch
• printing labels
• etching glass
• making spaghetti sauce
• wondering how we make so much dirty laundry
• working in my sketchbook
• juicing fresh fruit
• tying my shoes a new way
• watching Bravo TV
• working on my tennis backhand
• crafting witty responses
• buying birthday presents
• finishing sculptures
• organizing things in tiny boxes
• playing phone tag with my sister
• repeatedly cleaning my desk
• yelling through windows at inept parking choices
• enjoying granola
• waxing my car
• using recycled bags more
• ordering new swimsuits online
• going down slides
• buying airplane tickets to Portland
• trying out new eyeshadows
• attempting to rescue broken nails
• exploring
• thinking about jigsaw puzzles
• breaking my headphones
• packing, unpacking, repacking
• thinking about donuts
• uploading and downloading
• contemplating wearing more color
• helping friends move
• thinking about moving
• smelling rubber cement
• investigating new forms of cinnamon
• organizing images
• dreaming of the beach
• doing the doggie-paddle
• contemplating an attempt at wearing flip flops
• being thankful
• wanting to scale down
• cutting and pasting
• reading new books
• reading old books
• punching holes in transparencies
• cleaning the bunny
• writing snarky out-of-office messages
• using ear plugs
• learning how to hand sew
• trying to be more relaxed
• wearing sparkly converse sneakers
• wanting to be near my niece and nephews
• wondering about squirrels
• finding new websites
• watching my new fish swim

and other such things.

more soon.

when you least expect it

Seven years ago, this woman changed my life.

I’ve never looked back.

P.S  My fish are fine, thank you.

dead fish and other things that ruin my day

Two of our fish and one snail have succumbed to the amusingly-named-yet-incredibly-frustrating fish tank disease, “ick,” within the last three days.

After the first casualty, I ran to the pet store and bought salt and medication, special medication because we not only have fancy goldfish but an algae-eater as well, and evidently he was too delicate for non-special medication.  “Was” being the key word here, but that didn’t happen until Day Two of what I am now referring to as “The Plague.”

Day Three we lost a snail, whom I wasn’t quite sure was dead for another 24 hours.  Snails are strange like that.

On the fourth day of dosing my little finned friends with strange liquids and pouring aquarium salt in their watery home, I bought an air pump like the websites said.  “You don’t need a regulator,” the Fish Store Girl said.  I hooked it up, plugged her in, and immediately my tank became a jacuzzi – there were fish rolling everywhere in the tank.  This, I thought, is not how it is supposed to look.  I need a regulator, and that’s what I get for listening to a chick who walks around with a ferret in the hood of her sweatshirt.

This morning, at the beginning of Day Five, I bought the air pump regulator, and yes, Fish Store Girl was there.  I looked at her with agitation while standing at the counter in my pajama pants.  She looked away.  I was, and am, satisfied.

Fat Guy if he was a different color

So here we are.  My fish still have ick, though today has claimed no survivors.  Fat Guy, one of my favorites who happens to be especially ick-infected, is having the time of his life playing in the bubbles, which I think it pretty funny unless dimentia is one of the first signs that he is going to check out in the next 24 hours.

So is this why I’m so agitated today?

Perhaps.

Don’t you ever have one of those days where one minute everything is right in the world and the next minute, you just want to set something on fire?  Well, I mean, maybe not completely set something on fire, but at least scorch it a little.    It’s funny, I was eating breakfast with friends this morning – it WAS, after all, Waffle Sunday – and we were discussing how the first reaction that people have to a situation is purely emotional, and if everyone would take a step back and not dole out their first response to every occurrence in their lives, then life would be easier.  I often wish I could be so scientific and logical about things, and sometimes I can be, but for some reason when I am bit by the Agitation Bug it’s rough to build a chart and analyze my emotions.

Maybe I should just make a list.  I like lists, we know this.

Top Five Things That Are Annoying and Agitating To Me Right Now:

• ick.
• the fact that my desk is dirty and I want to sit at it, but don’t want to clean it off to do so.
• I have tons of work to do for school right now, and no time to work on art-making.  That is personally one of the most annoying/agitating things ever.  “Why are you blogging, then?” you might ask.  “Shut up,” I respond.  “I’m dealing with my emotions.”
• I feel chubby.
• our apartment is cluttered.  that is a constant annoyance to me.

Okay, done!  The Agitation Bug has been dealt with scientifically!  Now I can wash my hands of it and go prance around the apartment and relax on the couch like a normal being does on a Sunday night!

I don’t think I’m up for that.  I might, however, be persuaded into giggling at Fat Guy in the bubbles.

strange happenings

Tonite I ate ice cream with a holocaust survivor while Def Leppard pounded out “Photograph” in surround sound through the restaurant. I love experiences like that one.

Photograph
I don’t want yooooour
Photograph
I don’t need yooooour
Photograph
All I got is a
Photograaaaaaaph

Bizarre.

in memoriam

Dear Most Recent Sketchbook,

We’ve had a good run, but I’ve made my decision.  It’s time to move on.  Thank you so much for everything.

I’m sorry.

Really, really, sorry.

Super sorry.

I know, I know, kids in Ethiopia don’t have sketchbooks.  I’m aware.

It’s just, I can’t handle the fact that you’re hard to work with now.

No sketchbook, we can’t work it out.  Hundreds of dollars of therapy and advice from Harry and I still can’t get you to stay open!

I know, I’m sorry!

You’ll have a great time on the shelf with all the others!  Think of all that you’ll have to talk about!

Stop crying.

Please stop.

Now you’re just trying to make me feel bad.

It’s not you, it’s me!

Okay, it is you.

I’m sorry.

In Memoriam

FMR (Former Most Recent) Sketchbook

14MAY08-30MAR09

it’s all about the benjamins

…and the Harrys.  And the Caroles.  And the Georges, Liams and Madelines, although I’ve never met a Madeline.

I’ve been thinking a lot about people lately.  We all have good weeks and bad weeks, and it recently occurred to me that the difference between having a good and bad week often revolves around the type of people with whom I associate during that period of time.  Luckily, I know some pretty amazing people and due to the wonderment of social networking, they tend to introduce me to even more.  It’s all pretty impressive, really.

So, in honor of all these amazing people, I would like to dedicate tonite’s list to them.

The Top Five Incredible People I Have Met Over The Past Year (in no particular order)

• Harry and Carole Morgan – they count as one, as they are one of the coolest couples ever.  With a fistful of homemade gnomes and a mutual appreciation for all things bizarre and interesting, Harry and Carole are definitely on The List.
• Cori “Peep” Wagner – thank you, Michigan.  You may not have her back.
• Kyle Wright – a long time friend of Marco’s that we met for the first time at our wedding.  Yes, for the first time at our wedding.  Awesome.
• Alec Weir – thank you, Peep.  You may not have Alec back.
• Brot and Phoebe “Thunder” Coburn – world travelers and wonderful people.  Phoebe and I knew each other for about fifteen minutes before we shared corn bread – that’s a huge sign.

Honorable Mention:  Ig Wentling.  Sometimes friends disappear for long enough that when you rediscover them, it’s like a new friend all over again.  It’s good to see you again, Iglet.

Other Honorable Mentions go to my niece and nephews who get cooler and more impressive every time I see them, whether it has been a day or six months.

When Harry talks about the gnome village he has created, Gnomeville, he says that gnomes are always happy because they never have bad days.  It’s because of people like the ones listed about that my bad days are so few and far between as well.

Thanks to all.

P.S.  I don’t think this is the last you’re going to see of the Gnomes.

Gnomes Never Have A Bad Day.

the sketchbook diaries

I’ll admit it.  Saying that I have issues is not a stretch.

some of the old and faithful

Occasionally I am able to go about my life forgetting this assortment of peculiarities that I possess, but normally that is not the case.    For instance, I like the surface of my fake-butter-in-a-tub to be smooth, not roughed up carelessly by a knife.  And I loathe most forms of adhesive but usually have a jar of rubber cement on me.  Also, I enjoy it when my books are lined up on the shelves according to the color of their spines and not their titles or subjects, because I memorize things visually and it makes it easier to find the book I like.

Are these strange characteristics limitations in my life?  Do they keep me from progressing as a human?  Nah, I don’t think so.  Do they occasionally force me to think for possibly a liiiiittle too long about normal tasks that most people could gloss right over?

Sure.

Current issue:  the unfinished sketchbook.  Let’s have some background on my relationships with my sketchbooks.

Top Five Rules for My Sketchbooks

• Sketch books must be a black leather hardbound version by Canson or Cachet, 8 1/2″ x 11 ” or bust.
• Writing only occurs on the right page.
• I only use black ink.  Only. Black. Ink.
• Rubber cement or a sticker-maker can be used to attach 2-D cutouts or stickers into the sketchbook.  If it’s rubber cement, it better be Elmer’s.
• No one, and I mean NO ONE, reads/looks into the sketchbook other than me, unless the reading/looking is STRICTLY supervised.  Seriously.  The Husband and I have this as a condition of our marriage.  If you don’t believe me, ask him.

So there are rules when it comes to dealing with The Sketchbook, and that’s why I’m in the middle of my current quandary.   I’ve developed quite an awesome relationship with the current sketchbook, but there are some problems.  #1, she doesn’t stay open very well while I attempting to copy things out of books (the spine is a little stiff) and #2, I’m leaving for Scandinavia in less than six weeks, I want to only bring one sketchbook with me and I am almost 60% through with this one.   I’ll probably tear through another 15% in the lext five weeks, leaving only, you guessed it, a dangerously small amount of pages for Scandinavia.

“Why not switch out sketchbooks when you leave for Scandinavia?” you might say.

“I can’t go on that kind of long trip with a cold, brand new sketchbook!” I’d reply.  “I need to break it in!”  I exclaim.

But when?  Do I ditch out now or do I plug on in this one, knowing its end is going to come soon and I’m going to have to ditch it anyway?

Why can’t this decision be as easy as keeping the fake butter smooth?  I don’t know, but it’s just not.

lists of five, part I

I enjoy lists more than the average bear.  I enjoy lists more than the average human.  I enjoy lists.

This was a good idea I *borrowed” from a pudgy pigeon I happen to know.

Five books that I have read recently and thought were keepers -

• The Year of Living Biblically by AJ Jacobs
• No One Belongs Here More Than You: Stories by Miranda July
• The Autograph Man by Zadie Smith
• Until I Find You by John Irving
• I Was Told There’d Be Cake by Sloane Crosley

No art books, I know.  Art books tend to leer at me from the corner of my desk until I finally

Gonzales-Torres: Petit Palais (detail)

concede to their guiles and then tear through them like a starving child.  Currently a big old hardback about one of my favorites, Felix Gonzales-Torres, is giving me the old batting eyelashes from across the room.  I’ll get to you, Felix.  I promise.

What I’m thinking about today:  how you can’t force anyone to come up with an idea nor can you give them one, cinnamon, barbie shoes, shrimp fajitas and how my office may smell too much like fresh linen.

europe

If I lived in Europe, would I wear more scarves?

I think so.

glass doors

If my brother knew about the email she wrote my father chastising his decision, he would christen it a “bonehead move.”

In the midst of an inner-turmoil where I questioned the motives of everyone, my father reminded me two weeks ago that it’s better to honor the relationships that you’ve built over the years than the obvious choice of making a few people happy.  With the simple act of buying doors from those who supported him in the past rather than bending to familial pressure, he once again proved to me that he still has a lot to teach me.  In a world of glass ceilings and glass floors, he showed me that doors can mean a hell of a lot as well.