. . . I took some of your advice. Thanks again. I have miles to go before I should you my full space, but it's a start. See the first top cubicle? It is almost empty, which means I organized, evaluated, and tossed today Two new boxes of mail will join the boxes on top. It's been a busy day. I might follow the Fly Lady's egg timer tip tomorrow. I tend to get tunnel vision when I take on projects. Today's payoff was three bags of trash.
I practiced calligraphy last night. I practiced late into the night.
And part of this day. Thursday!
Page after page fell under the assault of my determination.
Back to cleaning and filing. I found goodies I'd forgotten. A Cricket Magazine from July/August 2008! Cool calligraphy, yes? An acorn for a mail box. A ladybug on top. Isn't that a 'possum too?
Yep. See? What else could it be? I suppose anything is possible in Cricket Country. If I could be anything other than what I am now I would be an illustrator first and foremost. Or an illuminating monk-ess. Do you ever wonder why nuns weren't illuminators too? Seems they'd have been just as grand it it, or grander.
Erin and I used to visit the Mother Cabrini Shrine in Colorado as a weekend thing to do. The nuns were some of the meanest, unsmiling, unkind sisters I've ever met except for the one I sat next to on a Greyhound bus trip from Houston to Dallas one spring break. Anyway, we took a special needs neighbor with us one weekend, and Joe, his name was Joe, and he wanted to buy something in their gift shop. Eggs! He wanted to buy eggs. The hairy, short sister with a unibrow, treated him rather unkindly. She was rude and tried to ignore him. She and I almost had words until she reluctantly sold him six eggs instead of the dozen she thought he should buy.
Okay. I won't even backtrack to see how I ended up on the nun story, but here I be, and here I will stay until I move on past this point. I'm uncovering good stuff among all the unarchived mail and paper goods in my studio, including the "Introduction to Gourd Crafting" DVD. Yea!
I had to sit down when I came across this gem. It's been forgotten for possibly two years, and I think I know why. I didn't know what to do with it at the time it came into my possession. So what was the point in purchasing it? One never knows when one might need such a pretty little thing, so I listen to my self and heed what I'm told I ought to do.
The point is, I heeded, and now I need it.
It's a thing of beauty. It does its duty with flair. Did I ever tell you I spent years trying to learn Eastern calligraphy, more specifically Chinese? I did. Sumi-ee was the challenge for me. I learned the symbol for house by heart. It was the only word I mastered. Practicing how to hold a brush at an awkward angle held hours of appeal. Am willing to bet I would have kept at it had I had this beauty to practice with. You're not convinced? You know it took years of apprenticeship before one was allowed to "write," right? My attention span is nothing to write home about, so I never would have made scribe back in the day. No matter. I wish you could use this pen. At least once. I've never felt anything like it--including the most expensive gold nib fountain pens in my possession. Using this brush is like skimming air across water. No. It's like writing with a whisper. It's the point of it all.
And guess what. Another important point is this: I did not write a single letter all day. I'm breaking the chain of letter-writing addiction, one link at a time. In fact, I might not write all weekend. JC just walked in. My point is, I'll be out and about, doing good things to write about for the next three days, and decluttering my life a little bit more. I'll look forward to showing you workable studio too!