Don't let the title fool you. I've never played crazy eights. Not ever. Have you? Is it fun? Should JC and I learn to play, and then play while he's home? His birthday is tomorrow. Is it a game for two? In fact, I had to Google the name to make sure it wasn't a drinking game. Or something. Seeing as how the number eight has come up a lot lately in my incoming and outgoing mail tallies, perhaps it's a number I should examine? Okay, I've had eight mail numbers three times so far, but still often enough to notice. Tonight it's all letters. Seven letters and one package with a note tucked inside to be exact. Although I feel another letter coming on before I sleep, but it's just another crazy eight at this moment. Wait. It'll be an honest crazy eight if I write the last letter after midnight, so the note-in-package counts! According to my rules.
Okay. Backing up. Make that five letters and three packages, since I take credit where credit is due. Turning to my desk top dictionary for support, in my defense, because accuracy counts in times like these, I present you with this definition:
letter |ˈletər| noun 2 a written, typed, or printed communication, especially one sent in an envelope by mail or messenger: he sent a letter to Mrs. Falconer.
Now, if you believe in numerology, you might nod at this bit of information from Numerology.com: " . . . the shape of the number reflects its most important attribute, and in the case of the number 8, that is, first and foremost, balance. The 8 is the great Karmic equalizer, a force that just as easily creates as it destroys. When the 8 comes knocking, you can be assured that you will reap what you've sown.
The 8 balances the material and immaterial worlds. At its best, it is as spiritual as it is materialistic. The spiritual side of the 8 is practical, realistic and intelligent. It knows the difference between make-believe and genuine spiritual realizations."
Numerology not your thing? Then eight is simply the number that comes after seven and before nine. And the number of items going out in tomorrow's mail bag. Pretty stamps always inspire me to write. New stamps do that too.
A neat box of brightly colored envelopes boosted my creativity to the nth degree, and I went all out to make this group of eight a little special.
I used one of my favorite bags I've been saving. See? I'm letting go. That's the best way to clean house. Give away some of the things you care about. It makes the letting go easier, especially if you fill it with goodness too. I like to give as good as I get. Don't you?
I like this mix of letters and numbers. They're as fanciful as the illustrations. Some things deserve a little quiet enjoyment before they're shared. This is one of them. I've gone over this envelope countless times . . . And I'm still in awe. L is for lavender. I tell myself, L is for lavender sent to Limner. The bee is the icing on my Sunday cake! I watched "Saratoga Trunk" night before last, or it could have been last night seeing as how I fell asleep before the ending and don't rightly recall where I left off. But there's the scene where Angelique gives her son cake as a bribe that's fresh in my mind. She wants him to tell her what the letter from the Texan says. Ingrid Bergman was at her best in the film. I read the book when I was too young to read such fare, but I loved that book and relish the movie.
The Texan had enviable penmanship! No cowboy ever wrote such a pretty hand. And it was clearly written with a ball point pen--not a dip. He even wrote three whole pages and a post script on a fourth! Such was the stuff of yesteryear movies.
Such stamps! Aren't they sweet?
My, my, my. Who knew on the day I first saw these cards on Colossal that I'd receive one? My immediate, and still current thought is, Clifford the Big Red Dog! That's Clifford's nose. The rest of him is invisible! Have you seen the photographer's work?
I like kites. I like Clifford. And I like the color red. I have never watched a single episode of "Clifford the Big Red Dog." Rather odd, don't you think?
I like the back of the envelope as much as I like the front. It's Canadian! I ask you, "Where have all the bees gone?" To Ireland and Canada, that's where! Can you make out the url? I hope so. I hope you will check out the wonderful-magical-whimsical world of a felter who made the cutest wool chicken!
Pure prose matches the sweetness inside-out.
Sorry for the blur but the drawing is too sweet to pass up long enough for a re-do. I've never been brave enough to try drawing a blackberry. I wish I had. I wish I had. I wish I had! I will. Come spring.
The sweetest sachet came my way via Canada! The fabric is perfect. I wish you could smell what I smell! See the little flowers? Oh, darling lavender, how I love you! You go straight to my brain--altering the chemistry inside my head! Thank you, kind Kerry. You're sweeter than Kerry Gold on warm lemon scones! (grinning) You and Randall are on to something. Your gifts light up my life like Flaming June print. Surely lavender is human catnip?
I came across this little something I never archived because . . . Because of a whole yard-full of reasons. It deserves a mat, a frame, and a hang. Thank you, dear Anna. Cleaning my studio is so hard to do! All sorts of memories come rushing at me from a box, a book, a stash, or a stack. Every little something deserves a rehash. Each thing wants a little bit of attention . . . then before I know it it's dinner time. I enjoy the little re-visits that make up the greater parts of my cleaning day. And now it is way past midnight! (12:52 AM) There'll be no other letter tonight. I'm good and tired. All I want is a hot shower and a read.
See you laters, alligators!