10.24.2009

positive pointing #30

I'm thankful for almonds.
they are perfectly crunchy (for headache times and otherwise)
my stomach loves them (and dosen't attack me for eating them)
my mouth loves them (they've got a subtle buttery/sweet taste)
they can go with me anywhere because they can't be smashed and don't go bad (i think)
they are good for my body and my skin.
we've been good friends for a very long time now and I never get sick of seeing that petite, tear-drop face.

Did God make almonds just for me?
sometimes I'm tempted to think so.

10.17.2009

positive pointing #29


I'm thankful for little ones.
After seeing "Where the Wild Things Are" last night, I am throughly enchanted, once-again with the perspective children have of the world. not because their perspective is so pure and innocent--they are little sinners also. and sneaky little buggers too--but because it's so different from the average, logical adults.
they are effortlessly simple, honest and playful
in a way that adults can never be
either because we forgot how to be
or because we learned not to be.
i'm not sure if it's bad to leave those things behind.
i don't think it is.
but it was fascinating to me to sit in the theater last night and remember exactly how the inside of a cardboard box USED to look like to me--it wasn't a box. it was pure possibility-- and what it felt like to just sit inside a tent that I had just made; to collect all my books, some games and dolls and a lamp or two and then just sit there, utterly content.

that box, that tent, my home, my mother--this is the difference between adults and children i think--was my entire world.

10.13.2009

positive pointing # 28


i'm thankful forthe crunch crunch of yellowbrown leaves on my walk to and from my front door. Each foot fall is a photo. These color schemes are genuis! who thought of these colors? and to put them together? and to cover earth's floor with them at the same time every year?

my maker.

I'm thankful for the repetition. every fall is the same. leaves litter the floor. the sound is the same. it reminds of being ten in the fall, being fourteen in the fall, being at home, being at the neighbors, being a freshman in college, being in philadelphia--the shuffle, crinkle never changes. I could use some constants.

10.10.2009

positive pointing #27

I'm thankful that I get to work in a small, friendly environemnt with COLOR!
...that i work by myself--play my music, set my own vibe, do things within my system
...that i get to help people decide which hat suits them best
...that I can talk to random strangers on daily basis. (for some reason, really talkative customers are not annoying me at all yet. I just love to hear ALL about their day. i'm sure this will wear off)
...that I'm now comfortable, and not terrified of, the beast-of-a-register
...that I have another thing to focus on besides art and all the projects that await me; that need me. my mind can rest and i can just be girly.



10.01.2009

positive pointing(s) #26



good goodies from my poppy!
look closely people. click on it. you'll want to see it all.

of special note:

  • The Satorialist--THE BOOK. that is my red bull. page after page of yum.
  • two carved coins made into necklace pendants. super cool. Carved so only the profile of the face is left framed in a nice circle.
  • MadeByHank purple pencil case which i have showed off nonstop since it landed in my purse "look at this! my dad got it for me. admire it!!"
  • five couplets of glittery, feathery magnetic little birds to stick in any corner that needs brightening. oh. who knows me better than my father?


Eric sewed (yes.) me this pillowcase with fabric he found at a thrift store. is it not glorious?


my sweet gift from sienna. a true piece of herself thats fit for me.


Henry's mom gave me sunflowers last night! I'v never seen myself as a sunflower person and now, with them on my green piano, i suddenly am. we're getting along so well!

11 orange roses from my eric. not a dozen. The 12th one exploded off it's stem in Eric's rush to give them to me; caught the edge of the car door and face-planted into the pavement. sad but true.

and now, I am twenty one.