" the garden of earthly delights"
i love sundays. everything quietens down. you actually get to take a deeper breath and enjoy a pace of homeliness. three consecutive days of christmas lunches, teas and dinners at our house, the hughes and martin and andreas house leave me with contentment, everybody seems calmer and truly happy.

as the year ends, the urge to purge and to put new order around the house and garden stirs my conscience. lists begin to emerge in my brown notebook, new horizons awaiting just around the new years' dawning. i will look back at last years' resolutions and see which ones i stuck to and for how long, many of them will have to be repeated (try try again).

in spite of an art studio crammed with supplies, the rest of the house has a need for minimalism so more ridding myself of "things" will be a top priority.

tatiana leaves on a five week trip to chile come wednesday and jon will be going up to big bear lake for a week where he rented a house with 16 friends. will miss them soooooo much since they liven up the house and always come in to see me as I'm creating bringing their own little art pieces to add to the mix or sharing their likes in music. it was jon who introuduced me to jeff buckley whom i now love so much. i will have the kitties and get to sleep with them all to myself for a change.

Have you Bloomed Lately?

Have you bloomed lately?

Be the centerpiece, not the wallflower!

Don't wait for Spring to shed the comforter of inertia that keeps you asleep in the bud, the permafrost of habit that keeps you stuck in a no-growth zone. Stop wishing, start working. Quit waiting-start groundbreaking. What's the story you're waiting to be, the Super Power you've been hiding, the seed you haven't watered, the calling you've put on hold, the forgiveness you've withheld, the next step you haven't taken? There's a Wild Flower in you waiting to blossom. A back-to-nature, barefoot zinnia. A Chanel camellia searching for a spotlight. A passionflower on the prowl. A stargazer lily with sky high dreams. A rambling rose ready to pull up its roots and see the world.

It's never too late in the season to grow into your true nature.

Skirt Magazine enlightening again.

Amid the madness, the solace of my little planet

I can do pretty much whatever I want in this room, even dress up sometimes

and get away with all my collections

without overwhelming the house

"Unto us a Child is Born"

Things are starting to slow down around the house, finally time to enjoy the fruits of our labours. Almost all the gifts are wrapped and tagged, decorations hung and packages mailed out. I finallty have some time to actually sit and relax, read "The Wind Up Bird Chronicles", watch a few good shows on the telly and make some phone calls. But the evenings are all for pulling out my boxes and pads where I draw and write down tomorrow's possible creations. I realize I am so ecelctic; I love so many art forms, so many mediums. Although fabric seems to be my medium of choice and where I excel the most, I really want to learn how to paint. So I am slowly learning to handle those paint brushes and play with them and all the acrylic colors available plus the watercolor crayons and water soluble pastels, blending, looking for shades that match my concepts.

Just a little whimsey before I gather my head and coat for Sunday Brunch and go to see "Slumdog Millionaire". Be back soon with the impressions.

Just as I say I am done with paper, I get inspired by an artist that leads me right back. Her name: Jill Mayberg. I better learn to keep my mouth shut and just create whatever my fancy of the day. Yesterday, in spite of spending most of the day cooking a huge homemade Minestrone, I doodled some, made a few ATCS and played with nothing BUT paper. What an irony.

Caylee Anthony

God cradle you

Having lost a child myself, the news today of Caylee Anthony just shook me to the core. For a mother to trade a night with God's greatest gift to her for a night out to "forget" the harshness of true life enrages me beyond words. Did she ever look into her daughter's eyes and realize what a miracle she was? Did she really touch her, watch her sleep, hear her sing spontaneously, weigh the sacredness of life in her arms? Obviously not! Stories like these are shattering and I pray Caylee, that you did not suffer, that you simply fell asleep and drifted into spirit to be with God.

Forever

and ever and ever.

As Joanne would say: Skipping and hopping, tru lu lu.