Simplify. Simplify. Semper Fi to the letter. Draw something simple is what I did. I sealed it in an envelope. And I slept on it. Ahem. I'd iron out the wrinkles except the ink might bleed. So into the out box it goes. We're waiting on the rain, rain, to go away. You may come again another day.
Some have said this is our five hundred year storm. It's sure making up for lost time. The drops on the roof kept me awake until 8 - 8:30 this morning. Who doesn't love the sound of rain on a roof? This is a different rain-on-a-roof sound however. It's getting to JC and we're only halfway in. He wants it to stop. Now. Right now. Cabin fever gets to some of us more quickly than others. He'll survive. I'm gonna go tell him the story of Noah and his kin in a little while, and he'll have gotten through the telling without realizing he's listening to the long-long-long version. I will set the egg timer.
Meet the Betwixt & the Betweens. They're neighbors of The Littles. They live in our house. The rain's getting on their nerves too, so they've kept me company two nights in a row. We tell stories and draw things. I listen and take notes more than anything because they'll be as they were before it began raining cats and dogs. They'll be gone, invisible, taking, moving things about, and borrowing. As you can see they caught one! Five hundred years ago. It has duplicates. They promised to tell me how they replicate the one to produce many. Such good stories they tell!
There's a really strong woman behind every successful man. Hmm. The story isn't finished yet. The pen writes and will not stop until the rain ends . . . We write on.
There's always a story to be shared in a letter. Stories and thoughts and feelings -- responses and ideas galore. The thicker the letter the stamps the more.
Adding just enough to make the recipient giggle is a good way to make it all as bee-lievably entertaining as a hive full of . . . A hive full of standup queens. Try to imagine the buzz! *grin*
And I'm exercising newly un-rusted/oiled joints by employing pencils and Copics to yardstick, and calling what comes postcard art. Drawing is like riding a bike. Honest. And it takes me by surprise when my pencil makes all the right lines, albeit shakily, weakly, graphitely. Answering mail, writing letters, tentatively trying mail art again, drawing postcards, and trying to color with drying Copics--which makes for misshapen appendages and warped shadows, but whatever will be will be. Strange things happen during 500 year floods.
Be safe. Be well. Send more mail!