Jon Stewart finally got my attention. Erin took the photo because I asked her to. I noticed it on our walk someplace. I forget where we were at the time since we walked a lot. In Chicago. I know, I know. I'm still talking about vacation. It's a great shot. The message will not go away. So I've turned the image into postcards. We need such dialogue.
Here's more proof that I'm a
hoarder saver of the good stuff that should be used instead. The USPS should have made postcards to match. Right? I'd have bought a poster too! But, I don't remember the year when a stamp cost 33 cents. Do you? Do you remember what one of the other stamps look like?
I have one half of a crystal ball. The date stamp is on hand in case I need to save-the-date for a future date. Do you use a paper weight? Who leaves a window open and loose papers lying around? I also have a blotter with no blotter paper, so there are ink smears in my life. Check the backs of the photos I send you!
I've gotten better with teaching myself how to do woodcuts. Make woodblocks? No matter the proper nomenclature, it's a calming, soothing, satisfying, creative past-time that I do. Yes, I've drawn blood, but I have lots and lots of Band-aids. Spiderman is my favorite. I hardly notice the pain though, not when the wood's essence is released with each gouge, curl or shaving. Aromatic is a word I've come to love.
This old house is the result of a quick practice session. I tend to think my work should be as old masterish as a Rembrandt. Ha! Seriously, I'm too . . . Anyway, I liked my little practice piece so much, well, I had to turn it into envelope art, and stationery. The old house reminds me of myself. My old "house" houses my spirit; it's beginning to show its age, some parts have gone south, and I can use a new paint job. My
windows eyes, the mirrors of my soul, gave up on contacts. Glasses are easier. Yes, I do fall asleep in my them just as I slept in my contacts. But I see fairly well . . . Well enough to know that I need to move on now.
Aha, again! Yes, I need reading glasses too. Why? Why not bifocals? Because bifocals take up too much lens! I want to wear cute skinny glasses, and not those aviator things. Can you ever tell when I write to you with and without my fourth eye(s)? I bet you can't. But, "one never knows, do one?" Thus saideth Fats Waller. Here's an example of me telling off on myself: I don't need my readers when I'm keying this. I do need them when it's time to search for an image on my desktop. So the lens part of my readers hang just betwixt my nostrils and the space above my top lip. No wonder my ears hurt when I blog. When I bump them up (the glasses, not my ears) to see again, they're all steamed up. It's so aggravating. Thank goodness I prefer cotton clothing, huh?
I remembered to show the other half of the bird and the pot, aka my new mail holder. It's an old little thing, yet I cannot bring myself to ruin the pristine wick and candle. Recognize the artist's sig? I bought the matching wind chimes pot way back when, for a friend of mine in Rhode Island. Now I wish I'd gotten one for myself. Speaking of being good to yourself, have you read the latest "live-your-best-life guru's book (or snippets) about . . . I'll have to find the piece. You deserve to hear it straight from the author's interview. It's just that good. Okay. I have to say this. You're asked how well do you treat your friends. Never mind. I'm not doing a good job here. I'll tell you later. But the wind chimes were little gardening tools. How sweet, huh?
Last, but not least . . . This mama's got a brand new bag. Gosh, but I am such a bag lady. I hustled to Barnes & Noble, during the school bus creep, to grab one of the two back issues of Flow they had on hand, when what to my wandering eyes should appear? Why, this felt bag of course! I picked two. The orange is so fall. But wouldn't you know it, it was all marked over, as if someone had taken a giant magic marker to it.
Uh, oh. I just picked up my bag and, horrors! I think it's wool felt. No wonder my eyes itch! The bag is perfect in every way. The felt has to be a quarter inch thick. The stitching is faultless. Even the faux leather handles look artisanal. *deep sigh*
No big deal for you, right, since it's what's inside that counts. I got the Flow with all the alphabet postcards. For the giveaway. On the 18th. It will ride with me to the post office on the day I mail the winner the prize. I won't mention the bonus coup. That's inside. That I did not mention in any previous posts. *grin*
And, now I am done. Need Benadryl. Face itching.
P.S. JC says my bag is polyester felt. *smile*