Do you ever try to repeat one of your favorite envelopes nd fail miserably because you created it when you were in that creative moment? It's that "you can't cross the same creek twice" truth working. Since this is an idea that has lingering appeal, it bears repeating. You know what I mean, right? If you have your own, we hope you'll share.
Oh. I even have a prescription pad. And, no, I am not a medical doctor, nor do I play one on tv, or on the Internet. Hence, the NMD ( None Medical Doctor) that follows my name. All prescriptions are good for what ail you, since I am a Novelty Mail-related Drawer. Whatever that is. Never mind, I'll think of something.
How many men does it take to paint this section of Cantina Laredo? Apparently more than two. I actually sat and watched. Then I was off to Texas Art Supply.
Here's a photo of a pretty little postcard from Flow Magazine. I so get it. Do you ever look at the faces of people passing by? Don't be fooled by the cold, stony faced facades. Sometimes cautious hearts hide deep inside. If beauty's only skin-deep then a heart can hide. Too. I have a lovely story to tell you about an amazing encounter yesterday. All in due time. This promise has been Duly Noted.
Here's a funny. I've had this card for awhile now. It came in Flow's "In the Moment" issue. You know how you can glance at words and think you know what follows? Cliches teach our brains that trick. Well, I kept reading "Laughter is the sun that drives winter . . . =Ace Icto Hug." Icto was a scramble that did not make any more sense than "=ACE and HUG." It didn't make sense until I sat down to tear the postcard from the book, that I took the time to read the true message. It's only right now that it occurred to me that it was deliberate. Before that, for all I knew, it was coded Norwegian. What would Victor Hugo say? What do you say? Did you get it right away? Kudos to the clever-clever people at Flow.
Here's a fun postcard from yesterday's Texas Art Supply visit. Interpretations are fun! What's yours? I'd bet yours are totally different from mine.
Questions, questions! I've got one too. What's the best way to measure time?
By counting birthdays! I'm feeling all of mine today. I did not feel like going to the mail box this morning. To the post office either, so no mail went out this day. There's always tomorrow. JC asks, "How do you feel, B?" I tell him, "With my hands, JC. With my hands." He thinks it's worse than "You might choke Arti, but you won't choke me." He-he.
And then there was mail! It was the only mail in our box, but it lit it up like the moon had gotten trapped inside by accident, and couldn't find its way out.
. . . to be continued.