Join the Artsy Fartsy Coloring AND Colouring group here.
Join the Artsy Fartsy Coloring AND Colouring group here.
When the Zanimal was in preschool and still called Little Z, we used to ride together in the morning. I would take her to preschool, and then go on to work. She went through this phase when she was three or four years old, when she would tell me when I looked pretty, and when I did not look pretty.
“You are pretty today,” she would say.
“Oh, thank you.”
“Why do you say, ‘thank you’?” she asked.
“It’s a nice thing to say.”
Then, another day, she would say,
“You are not pretty today.”
What?! I was so hurt.
“That’s not a nice thing to say. You shouldn’t say that.”
“Why not say that? It’s just a fact,” she said.
“It’s just a fact that I’m not pretty?!”
I was so hurt, I couldn’t respond.
But then, the next day, she might say that I was pretty again. And then the next day, not pretty. And so on. I could never convince her to stop saying it out loud when I was “not pretty.” I resigned myself to the fact that I had somehow produced a monster.
Then, after a long time, I started to see a pattern. I had an idea.
“Do you just say that I’m ‘pretty’ when I’m wearing a dress or a skirt, and I’m ‘not pretty’ when I’m not wearing a dress or a skirt?”
She looked at me like I was the biggest idiot in the universe.
“Yes,” she said. “Pretty ladies wear dresses.”
Oh. My. God.
I think about this experience from time to time. I wonder how many other things I’ve taken personally that weren’t really meant that way at all?
Donkey Day is a holiday my Grandma Ruth made up, because she’s awesome that way. Donkey Day is that special time of year when you take all of your donkey figurines out of the closet, and arrange them decoratively around your home! Display them proudly for all of the donkey days. (I don’t remember when donkey days begin or end, so you’ll have to improvise on this. I’m not even sure if it’s one day or a week, ask Grandma.) Then, when donkey days are over, put all of your beautiful donkey figurines back into the drawer, and save them for next year. That’s Donkey Day!
The Cat and Crow ordered another weird wooly creature sculpture from me. That was a while ago. It was summertime, and impossible to find time to do a large creative project without someone asking, “What are you doing? Why are you doing that? Who is it for? That doesn’t look like a unicorn!” Etc. So now that school has finally gone back into session, I had time to do a new wooly creature for the Cat and Crow.
Her name is Zurgioch. I don’t know why. That’s just what she told me. Continue reading Zurgioch the Last Unicorn
My coloring book fans are goofy! I guess that isn’t surprising. In the Artsy Fartsy Coloring with Shoshanah Marohn group on Facebook, I’m running a contest where the prize is that you get to tell me what to draw! Tina won (there can be more than one winner) and she wanted me to draw a T-Rex in high heels, running from a lady with a flare. (She thought it was stupid how the lady in Jurassic World ran, like, forty miles in high heels, so she wanted me to balance the scales a little.)
Join the group if you like. I recommend it. You can be a lurker, or a full on coloring artist. I appreciate everyone.
from Birds in Beards 2: Dead Poets Edition
Thoreau is kind of a cheat. He wasn’t a poet. I just thought, what a weird beard!
“This is the only bird whose note affects me like music. It lifts and exhilarates me. It is inspiring. It changes all hours to an eternal morning.”
-Henry David Thoreau, June 1853, writing about a Wood Thrush
According to my friend Rui Afonso: XVI century… self exiled in military in North Africa due to an unrequited love. Lost his eye but lived to write the Epic poem that tells the story of the Portuguese Discoveries.
Poems don’t translate well, but here is a poem of his in Portuguese (Don’t speak Portuguese? Learn it!):
As Alcióneas aves triste canto
Junto da costa brava levantaram,
Lembrando-se do seu passado pranto,
Que as furiosas águas lhe causaram.
Os delfins namorados entretanto
Lá nas covas marítimas entraram,
Fugindo à tempestade e ventos duros,
Que nem no fundo os deixa estar seguros.
My dear sweet daughter offered to clean the cat’s litter box last Saturday morning. What a sweetheart! I was sitting and eating my breakfast.
“Can I clean off the bottom really well? You don’t seem to ever really clean it that well,” she called from the bathroom.
“Sure. Of course.” I was drinking my coffee.
Lots of scrubbing noises…
“Can I just take a shower with the litter box? That way I can clean both me and the litter box at the same time!” She said.
Just then, Badass Husband wandered downstairs.
“She’s got it full of water! The cat box is on the counter full of water!!” He said.
“Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god! What? No! No shower with the litter box! ” I screamed. “Did you pour the litter down the sink! Did you? Did you? ”
“No,” she said. “No, not yet!”
“NEVER PUT CLUMPING CAT LITTER DOWN THE DRAIN,” we both screamed. Complete parenting solidarity, achieved!
Then I grabbed the cat litter box full of water and ran outside and dumped it. I saved the day. Right?
And then we discussed how one goes about cleaning a cat litter box: 1. Use a scoop. 2. No water. 3. Nothing ever goes down the drain. 4. Everything goes in the trash.
It’s a little bit different from the first Birds in Beards, mainly in that the poetry is a lot better. I used all of the best old timey poets in the public domain, so they are high quality.
If you are in my Artsy Fartsy Coloring Group on Facebook, you have already seen these previews. Also, you are amazing. Everyone in that group is amazing in one way or another. 🙂
Incidentally, this has nothing to do with that, but I’m writing this outside on my tablet in the heat with these sheep, waiting for the vet to come. He is an hour and twenty minutes late! It’s hot. They were penned up in the sun, but I thought it was too hot and I leashed them and put them under a tree with me. They are panting, nonstop. One just wiped her nose on my leg. We have to get their health clearance papers to take them to the fair.