I don't think I've ever gotten dud mail in all the years I've had this space I call OWM. Everyone who's written leaves a mark in their wake. Marks like invisible tattoos, if you can imagine that. I was ISO a couple or three pen friends to help me fill a void created by the long-standing two I'd lost after a complicated surgery that kept me from writing. The debilitating depression that followed left me cut off from the world.
It took awhile but eventually life got better and here I am. Soon enough I discovered there were others who loved writing as much as I still did, but y'all had upped the game on me. Things changed while I was away. Some of y'all drew on your mail too! And there were no holds barred when it came to tartin' it up. Ohh-wee-man!
I had a mentor who taught me bunches. Remember Patty? If she ever writes her memoir, I pray she doesn't mention what a pitiful thing I was. But no matter. My shingle was out there, and some of us have been together for what feels like a third of my life. Thank you for visiting. Thanks for staying long enough to hear me out. And thank you for coming back again and again. Thanks for writing. Used to be there was so much mail I couldn't keep up, and while I might not have kept my promise to answer every piece, it wasn't for lack of trying. My writing finger has a slant from leaning against a pen all these years! *grin* I remember more than I recollect speedily enough. I still wonder what happened to certain people who've come and gone like comets arcing across my sky--leaving words in their wake-- like the good soul who wrote to me just once. To ask for advice on how to improve their handwriting.
I searched and searched some more until I found what I believed to be the perfect teaching tool. A book it was, of course. *grin* It cost me thirty-plus dollars of my pen money. If you've ever been on a strict budget you know what that was like. God bless Amazon. I sent the book the day after it arrived, and I never heard from the person again. They're probably writing lovely letters to world leaders and innovators, movers and shakers, and making a real inky difference. I still wonder about them though. Some memories of penfriend correspondence come when I need them the most. They help keep me here as much as anything else.
Honestly? Frankly? Openly? I don't understand why OWM has survived as long as it has. My family doesn't get it for sure. They think I'm nuts. In y'all's defense, I holler back, "They know real people when they see 'em, that's why!" I tell myself, "They just feel compassion for the loco, but that counts too, girl," and I keep on keepin' on. Regrets? I've had a few. Rewards? Ooh-wee-yes! More than I deserve.
Tyrus Wong! If you love "Bambi, watch the Tyrus Wong bio/documentary. He's one of the most interesting men on the planet. He's someone I'd like to meet and talk to for a long while. But he's dead. He left us last year at a hundred and six years of learning and teaching and following his wife's advice to "go fly a kite."
Ever notice how dragon feet look an awful lot like chicken feet? Hmm.
But anyway . . .
Susan's photography is like the fine wines I cannot drink. All I saw for the longest time was the nibbled petal. What eats roses? The petals -- not the leaves. The pink is just too pretty to be eaten. Lovely photographs make lovely notecards.
A pink ranunculus. Still one of my favorite flowers. The eye makes me "be still" like my mama never could. I used to buy these every spring because I'd forget where I stored the bulbs. They don't do well here because of our spring heat. This one will keep!
And then there's this. It came yesterday! I consider the writer and artist to be the equivalents of my favorite funny person, Shel Silverstein. I like clever silly. Silly silly is just plain senseless silly, but Uncle Shelly is the best silly ever.
Michael Rosen's Book of Nonsense makes me laugh out loud, if you can believe such a thing. Some of the drawings are a little scary, like the clown in the new Stephen King's "It." No. "It" is a lot scarier. "It" is so off-putting I cannot, will not watch. I hated the story more than anything. Why King made children do things children don't normally do isn't worth reading.
From cover to cover this Book of Nonsense is filled with its share of scary but funny-silly "rhymes, poems, wordplay, and limericks." Thanks for knowing me well enough to know I'd like this, Anna. The cover has an added bonus that I look forward to enjoying just as much as I enjoy the interior.
A fried egg on your leg? A ghost on cheese toast? Flies n fries? A slug on a jug?
A loaf of bread loafing in bed? Oh, dear me!
And what might the moon be watching? It can't be good! I know! I know! It eclipsed! And reflected the event. No? Okay, then what???
Hmm. This one's as wild as your imagination! Thumbing through, for the likes of me, a limner who cannot wait for little bits day-by-day, is like trying to be good in church in the spring before they could afford stained glass windows. So I'm like Burger King, 'cause I still believe that I can have it my way!
Oh what fun comes in the mail when you can never imagine it. You never see it coming. Well, you can if you're psychic. *grin*
You know there's fun under wraps, especially when the wrapping makes you grin!
. . . to be continued