Tackle With Love, Son

Dear Friends,
The big son decided this year he’d like to give football a try. He’s a gentle soul by nature – a pacifist at heart – but, he’s discovered a love for mannish sports. I look at him, smiling with his gigantic football gear on and pray it keeps him safe from injury. Though, I know it’s impossible to ask for such a divine favor – so I’ll just ask that he has fun and that he’ll only require a bandaid from time to time.

max footballWe can’t protect our children anymore than we can make ourselves less vulnerable to life. What we can do is arm them with self-confidence. So when their young minds are conflicted or they find themselves in a precarious situation, they can remember the mantra, “I’m better than this…”

After I took this silly-faced picture of the big son, he said, “I’ll feel bad if I hurt anyone, mom.”

I responded quite motherly, “Then tackle them with love, my son.” Then I glanced up at the sky and thought, I hope you’re tackled with love too.

blue football playerOn the way to the big son’s 5 and 1/2 hour practice today, we saw the sun’s rays peeking through. We both took this as a good sign…

sunraysThank you. May you dream this evening of the world’s children being safe from harm.

Big Son with Goofy Face photo taken August 14, 2014
Blue Footballer drawn August 18, 2014 with Prism and fingers crossed (right hand only, needed left to draw)
Sun rays taken this AM, August 19, 2014

Goodbye Gentle Typewriter

Dear Friends,
There was a gentle typist who used his trusted old typewriter to ink his profound thoughts. Each introspective word which struck the parchment lightened his burden a little. His heart heavy, his frenetic fingertips ever searching for the right phrase.

What he had trouble understanding were his own words. How his words affected others. They were good words. They were excellent thoughts. His soft words embodied the gift of warm company. His sometimes sultry phrases made those lonely, less alone.

But one must allow the luxury of self-forgiveness for whatever the past. They must befriend themselves. They must inhale inner-love and be willing to dare self-acceptance.

But for now, his old typewriter has become heavy – like an anchor, and his typist fingers have grown weary. On his journey over the sand, may he recognize his capacity for love and kindness. Perhaps, the freedom of ink and paper and ocean will help him become free someday…

cool change

au revoir, my friend…

Come With Me Down the Rabbit Hole

Dear Friends,
I write a monthly column for my local newspaper. Like a child, I still pretend I’m Kolchak the Night Stalker, but there are no cool monsters in the Hudson Valley, so I’m more like a lame version of Lois Lane.

While pounding the Mac, preparing an article about the Gilded Age: ‘The Haves and the Never Had,’ something outside my window leaped into my periphery. A wiry rabbit was frittering about. I jealously observed. In that moment, I wanted to be him – nary a care in the world except survival and the hungry hawk eyeing him from a nearby tree. He stopped and set his hopped-up nose on the garden Buddha.  I believe bunny and Buddha exchanged words. Then his soft brown fur disappeared. I imagine he fell down a rabbit hole where all wonderful creatures commune.

The little guy directly below – who I think is just adorable – was inspired by the Mad Hatter possibly, or ‘he’ could be a mashup of the Hunchback, Willy Wonka, Fred Astaire and Dr. Frank N. Furter from Rocky Horror. The cuties below him can be found down the mysterious hole. Except, they do surface now and again on sunny days.

top hatThese albino sloths shouldn’t be in the sun for too long -

albino slothsPurple skink likes rabbit holes, but enjoys sunning on logs too-

skink on logIf you tell purple skink he smells, he gets most upset-

skink closeI’d love to disappear down a rabbit hole for a tea party…wouldn’t you? Thank you and have a fabulous sun-mon. You’re welcome to follow me down the rabbit hole, where I will be dreaming tonight…

Monster Top Hat, manufactured August 16, 2014 – Prisma pencil  
Albino Sloths and Purple Skink, 2008 – Prisma, watercolor, acrylic, marker

My Lovely

Dear Friends,
(Sorry – this is a longish post – my apologies) I’ve been blogging about six months now. Since starting, I’ve been the fortunate recipient of a happy Liebster and a colorful Versatile ribbon. I’ve hung these pretty things on my little blogcabin mantle. I now have the honor of adding a ‘One Lovely Blog’ ribbon. Please note, I’m still holding out for that Chocolate Crown :-)

lovely awardA spicy youngin’ has nominated me for this Lovely Blog award. I’ve since visited her site. Bethan reminds me of why being 19 is X-citing. Bethan is quite sassy and speaks her mind. She is a young person of conviction and I don’t doubt she’ll make something quite grand of her life… If you don’t believe me, check out her blog for yourself at Bethan Nicole

light ladyAs part of playing along I must nominate fellow bloggers. This is the lovely part of these generous nominations. Sharing other blogs, because we’re all in this pixel porridge together. I apologize in advance to my nominees (not in any particular order). Though it’s an honor receiving these treasures, they take some time to put together. I realize many of you are quite busy, so play along if you’re able, either way I’m most happy to share blog directions to your splendid homes here:

HemmingPlay: a brilliant mind and mighty muse
Images and Words from Bluerock: the name says it all, engaging and thoughtful
Triggershorse: strong, intelligent matriarch whom I admire greatly
C-Dog and Company:- Caring, compassionate, caretaker of animals – we sip invisible Starbucks together
Simon Tocclo: musician of life, family and music
Brooklyn Doodle: a caring young person whose small doodles have huge impact
Pamo’s World: a terrific cartoonist and avid motorcyclist (I’m jealous)
Luggage Lady: documents with love and panache her worldly travels (she the stewardess, he the pilot)

Now onto the ‘reveal stage,’ where I must divulge 7 things about myself to you my friends:

I had my first huge crush on a boy in 3rd grade. I cut out his little head from my class picture and placed it in my silver heart locket. I showed him one day and he ran. I mean he sprinted in the opposite direction – not the reaction my throbbing heart was hoping for. From that point, while in Catholic School, I literally hid in classroom closets whenever boys passed by. Unfortunately, I ran out of closets.

I’ve never gotten over my childhood fascination of horses. I do hope to have one in my backyard one day. Right now, I’d settle for a donkey :-) This is a picture of the shelf above my studio entrance. The running Breyer’s horse is Ruffian. I sobbed for days when she was put down on the track in 1975.

RuffianGeez, the first 2 are depressing let me try for uplifting. When I was minutes away from delivering my first child, my ob-gyn asked, “Do you mind if a few med students observe?” I said, “Of course not, bring whoever wants to learn something, I’d love to help out,” then I suggested, “Why don’t we sell raffle tickets and have an Open House!”

I often fantasize Hemingway, Fitzgerald and I are companion barflies. We smoke cigarettes, sling back a few and talk life in a darkened corner of some Parisian Café… They tell me I shouldn’t smoke (I don’t) and I tell them they shouldn’t drink so much. Hemingway and I share laughs over our matching black turtlenecks, Fitzgerald is wearing wrinkled linen, but he laughs too because he thinks we’re madcaps. We continue smoking, drinking and gabbing the night away…
(Speaking of drinks, I pick my wine according to the animal on the label. I like this rooster.)

rex wineI have three sisters and two brothers who are much smarter than I (or is it me?).

I lived the first half of my life totally insecure. Somewhere I smartened up. I looked inside and out and decided this is what I have to work with so mold it like Picasso. It’s okay if the eyes are on the nose and the ass is on the knee.

I often look at the open sky by my home and hum “Cool Change” by Little River Band. You should try this. I swear even when my feet are planted it feels like I’m sailing. Very peaceful and cathartic…

big skyThank you once again, Bethan and all of you bloggers our there – a glorious weekend to you all…

Dream well…

Let’s Go Fly a Dog

Dear Friends,

“…When you send it flyin’ up there
All at once you’re lighter than air
You can dance on the breeze…”

For the last several weeks, whenever I walk Rocky the German Shepherd I imagine him as a great, flying dog-kite. I allow him lots of leash and imagine him flying against the sky. Without question, the tune Let’s Go Fly a Kite enters my brain and try as I might it won’t dislodge. I continue singing Mary Poppins’ tunes for at least an hour after that. I’m hoping this image created today cleanses live dog kites from my mind…out wicked spirit, out!!!

flying dog

Perhaps, the paper crawling up my studio walls is taking over my thought processes…

studioAnyone up for a cleaning party ;-)

Thank you and goodnight. May you dream of kites as they should be – airborne in colorful rhythm with the infinite sky…

Off With Their Heads!

Dear Friends,
It’s ‘amazing’ this United States – this glistening “city upon a hill.” The history behind Puritan America and the English Civil War – as with any documented birthing – was freakishly inhumane at many turns. The pains, and I mean pains suffered to eventually separate church and state ‘somewhat.’ I had no idea what I was getting into when I selected, Roger Williams and the Creation of the American Soul at our local library. For the past week, I’ve listened to John Barry’s book on CD, beginning with the days in merry old England when kings were whacking off ears, boring holes through tongues, and my personal favorite hanging the offender, then cutting him down while still alive, castrating – dare he think about procreating, disembowling and finally chopping off ye head and skewering the distasteful object on a stick.

My ever-vigilant sixteen-year-old, mentioned Roger Williams College as a place of interest for furthering her education. I hadn’t put it together, until I realized Roger Williams was one in the same. This man’s story is a fascinating one. Oh, I’ve decided I like Roger Williams very much. He chose the “chaos of freedom and the loneliness of it,” to wealth, comfort and political power. He held the fundamental idea of live and let live. He sought religious toleration of all and for all. Roger Williams was an original thinker. He was also decent, caring and an uber-intelligent human being.

I’ll like Roger Williams even more if he doesn’t cost $60,000 a year ;-)

ScatThank you. May you dream your ears remain attached so your dreams don’t fall out…
Scat created while under duress of listening to repetitive hung, drawn and quartered scenarios…

To Be Fully Awake, I Must First Surrender to Sleep


Mr. Hemmingplay has come to be a dear blog friend. I consider him a wonderful writer with depth, talent and – heck, the man possesses a refreshing sense of humor the world could use more of… I love this post. Words and those who strum them as angels’ harps…

Originally posted on HemmingPlay:

cathedralCove_New Zealand_Yan Zhang

The Cave of My Unknowing Self

If you want cheerful, you might want to move past this one. I’m not feeling morbid, just in the mood to sink into some things that will lead to other things. I’m like the person who hasn’t had enough sleep for days, but had to keep moving and now am a little crazy.

We’ve all known those sleepless dark hours, where “I have counted my own fears, like carved beads on the string of the night.”  (This line is from a fabulous person and writer and Southerner who blows me away every time with lines like that. Her talent makes me insanely jealous, but then is so good that I just have to step back and applaud. )

I’m just getting started on this, a cleansing ritual of sorts. I need to make sure that I remember that looking in the mirror and seeing…

View original 223 more words

You and Me Against the World

Dear Friends,
I used to gently snicker at folks who appreciated Helen Reddy’s music. Yesterday, while fidgeting with the radio dial I heard, You and Me Against the World. In the beginning, a little child says, “Tell me again m’u’mmy.” I never appreciated the little voice – I thought it silly. This time, I listened to Helen’s song with the ears of a much wiser person (I also heard, Angie Baby - another Reddy song – on another station which is scary ’cause I haven’t heard any Reddy songs on the radio in years). The notes and the lyrics to, You and Me Against the World are really quite soulful. I’m sorry Helen Reddy for not appreciating your words until 2014.

You and me against the world
Sometimes it seems like you and me against the world
When all the others turn their backs and walked away
You can count on me to stay
Remember when the circus came to town
And you were frightened by the clown

clown faceWasn’t it nice to be around someone that you knew
Someone who was big and strong and looking out for
You and me against the world

hulk Hat Sometimes it feels like you and me against the world
And for all the times we’ve cried I always felt that
God was on our side

And when one of us is gone
And one of us is left to carry on
Then remembering will have to do
Our memories alone will get us through
Think about the days of me and you
You and me against the world

I love you mummy
I love you too baby

Thank you. May your dreams be of large men, little women and all sorts in between…

Clown Face rendered way back in 1990 when Prentice Hall loaded Adobe Illustrator on their designers’ computers. I got to play. 
Hulk Hat – inspired by my love of all buff green men. Rendered August 10, 2014.

R.I.P Lauren ‘The Look’ Bacall
Line seductively throated in her first film (1944), “To Have and Have Not” -
“You don’t have to say anything, and you don’t have to do anything. Not a thing. Oh, maybe just whistle. You know how to whistle, don’t you, Steve? You just put your lips together and blow.”

Moonskin and a Blue Monster

Dear Friends,
The saturday night moon… Something about soft blue light bathing parts of vulnerable skin, the bedroom window allows to be touched. So peaceful this moonlight. Smiling, forgetting my head sinking into the mattress because that old pillow has seen better days. Like a child – I was – in that satin light. Our dachshund curled under the comforter; a tunneler by trade. Shouldn’t he be howling or something?

A few months ago, the big son was perusing my high school yearbook. He found my senior picture, looked a few moments then said, “Mom, you looked pretty.” I smiled. He made me feel young like that satin moonlight, if only for a moment.

hs pic.668And of course, now that I’m lots older, more wrinkled and much wiser, the moonlight also inspires other things. I like to call this lovely birdie, Bluebell. He rises with the sunset and enjoys all things in blue moon light.

bluebellIf you should meet him please don’t worry, he harbors a sweet disposition, but just to be safe, I’d let him be…unless the moon is extra bright…

bluebell closeupThank you and goodnight. May delicious blue moonlight guide you to dreamland…
High School grad photo taken 1981 yikes! Bluebell images created in 2010…

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