Poppets at Play

On Dreary Days, We Play.

Yes, indeed. Weeks of dreary days that seemed to go on and on, even into our sleeping hours, into our dreams.

So, what to do but to play?

Ravyn, Bent and Robert are all working on brilliant new pieces for next time.

For now, I'll open the gallery with the Poppets that came from, well, dreary days of play. I considered what Poppets might do on any particularly dreary day, and discovered that they like putting on costumes and masks and creating their own elsewheres.

Some of them explored the world Lewis Carroll created for Alice. I enjoyed a renewed appreciation of that world while I researched for the sculptures. And, of course, found many side roads I'd like to visit with Poppets, like famous 'fools' and Punch and Judy.

At any rate, play was what was called for, play we did, and all was for good.

Some of our Rat friends joined us. It's been quite a long time since I made rats. I realized too, painting these, how much I've missed them. Poppets and Rats seem to get along splendidly.

The auctions are HERE.

10% of Wonderland-inspired Poppet sales is for NORML

10% of other Poppet sales is for NCAC

10% of Little Red Poppets is for CBLDF

10% of Rats is for CBLDF

A number of people are asking me about the Neil Gaiman Rat. I plan to have at least one on each upcoming auction of the limited edition one. I'll also have one each of the other author rats; Edgar Allen Poe, H. P. Lovecraft and Harlan Ellison.
The new Neil Rat will be an open edition and will be out later this year. If you want to be on the mailing list for that, please email to

ravyn@poppetplanet.com

If you have any questions, ask me. I really like hearing from you. I hope you enjoy seeing the new work.

Already, I'm back in the studio.

Tiny Masks, Big Monsters and Here Comes the Sun

Here is one of the Poppet costume masks. About 1/2 inch wide.

Last night we saw The Host. http://www.hostmovie.com/. Pete, our friend Art, and me.

We laughed, gasped, said "what the f...!", and said "oh man," a number of times, in no particular order, but generally all together.

If you like the preview, you'll likely not be disappointed with the movie.

I'm calling today the first real taste of the hellish heat to come. It's seriously time to finish up preparations to minimize the damage all around. Outside, inside, house, body, mind.

It's the season for swimming under the stars. It's the season for visualizing cool blue water and silent white forests. It's the season for making paper mache sculptures and drying them outside. It's the season for saying "I hate this desert" and "I love this desert." It is intense and extreme.

Good. It will be a challenge. I need a challenge. Maybe it'll wake me up. I've been in a weird fugue for months. Swimming in glue, wrapped up in gossamer, muted. I wander through the rooms in my head and all the furniture and mirrors and paintings are covered in sheets.

I've been here before. It's the end of a long season. We'll start another, and it will be crappy, but this seasonal change is the catalyst that transforms the raw elements of the fugue state into paintings and sculptures and stories.

Flip flops and hats. Always with the hats.

g'night

Earth Day in the Desert

Today was for Ben and me to take Orion to The Living Desert for their annual Earth Day celebration.

We made plans to attend the next star party of the Desert Astronomical Society. Nice folk.

Orion liked the bounce house. And possibly the giraffes. But not the vultures.

We saw Mexican wolves and a giraffe family. We watched a butterfly(not this one) emerge from its cocoon. Zebras, owls, snakes, lizards and cranes. Bobcats.

Poppet went too, but refused to tell us anything about this particular conversation.

We followed the long white road...

Sometimes it's good to go outside, spend some time with other life forms. Keeps things in perspective.

Tonight is for tired little boys to sleep and artist moms to make art.

Dee and Dum, Springs, 4/20, It's a Rat

Dee and Dum.

Today was mostly for taking photographs, which tends to be an important part of an artist's life and tends also to be tricky when the subjects are very small and occasionally mischievous and not completely cooperative.








I enjoyed watching "Fortune's Teller" go through it's mechanical rounds today. In honor of studio policy-- Nothin' Can Go Wrong Now-- we decided to run it for a solid week to check for bugs.
Found one---the noise of the spokes against the stop is louder than we want.
Most likely, the solution will be a combination of changing the angle of the spring, adding a bit of hidden insulation and installing and sealing the glass front. We originally used a plastic spring but the resistance wasn't enough, so the wheel spun too long -- by the time the wheel stopped on a fortune, the spotlight by which to read the fortune was out. Not to mention the metal spring will last much longer and be easier to replace.


That solved, there's some painting and detailing left. When that's done, I'll post a video and in -progress photos. The coolest thing about all of this--and unexpected-- was that when I saw the piece in motion, it truly creeped me out.



It's a profoundly satisfying thing to have made something that scares me, even a little.

I highly recommend it.



Making these these Poppets, sometimes I can zoom in, as when Orion and I pretend we're tiny, or when we lie on the grass and study objects in the night skies.

Eventually, looking inward at small things, or outward at large ones, size and distance begin to feel like the changeable inconstant concepts they are. Just for a moment.

I did actually make a few rats. I haven't made any in months, but thought it would be a good idea to make some more regularly. I miss the little fellows. Possibly that's why I started making rat masks for Poppets? Is a rat in a Poppet mask coming next?

Possibly I should open more windows in the studio and not leave the paint thinner open.

I hope you've had a good 4/20. Remember never to stop questioning the rules.
Who, what, where, when, why and how.

g'night

Talk and Toys

TruthDig Debate: Sam Harris v. Chris Hedges
Tuesday, May 22, 2007 8 p.m.Royce HallUCLA

A Truthdig debate between Sam Harris and Chris Hedges

Moderated by Robert Scheer
For more information and tickets:TruthDig Debate email: author@samharris.org

This looks worth a drive on the TEN to me, especially if Pete's driving, and likely some interesting conversation on the way home.
*****

So much bad news. So much sad news.
Our house is quiet but for the sound of distant gardening and smells of cut flowers and fresh coffee. How tempting it is to hide out in here. But we won't. We watch. We learn. Don't we?

On Dreary Days We Play. That seems to work. On dark days, when all else fails, I can make toys.

This box holds a Little Red Poppet and two masks for her to wear. It reminds me a little of a trunk doll I had when I was a little girl, a little of a ballet box and seems a bit like a Victorian toy.

I like it.

Masks and other costumes seem to be a theme this month. We'll open the gallery again on April 28th with Poppets dressed in costumes from "Through the Looking Glass" and others. There will be a few rats this time too, as I can fit them in.

Mostly we're back to working on the fortune teller, which will be very cool once done, but for now, because of all the delays, is getting to feel like an anvil over our heads. Well, my head. Ben seems unaffected by either headlines or deadlines. Good for him, otherwise he'd be making toys too. Then again, what are the kinetic pieces if not big toys?

At any rate, it's good to be working in the studio again. Now it smells of paint instead of dust, which in my view is better. And if I make only toys for awhile, that's okay too.

There are lots of new topics up on the forums www.poppetplanet.com including some new Poppets on Tour photos on flickr. Thanks Laura!

Supposedly there will be a Poppet Planet party at Balticon. As soon as I have more details, I'll post them here.

My coffee has been drunk. Time to make things.

Wind

Jamison (visiting with daughter, Sophia) says there is no place like the desert for visions. That there is a violent fragility that goes beyond the surreal. That every surface is glass-edged.

Infinite velocity, no time. Everything and nothing. He's right, I know. The desert can be that.

"Where did Jesus take his questions? " he asks and answers, "to the desert, that's where."

We laugh and grow silent for a moment. We've both seen things here.

Orion and Jamison's daughter, Sophia, play in the next room while in here, I listen and paint Poppets.

Outside, the wind is howling again. We've been talking about world events, speculating on the future, wondering when we became such freaking grown-ups.
Moving slowly through space, quickly through time.

Wondering if there's any way in hell we could talk Pete into going fishing with us. A family fishing trip. Ben too. We are dreaming. We decide Pete would fish if we provide him with a good book.


Really, what is it about the desert? I should find other artists to ask.
Maybe it's because it still looks like the bottom of the ocean. We're constantly reminded that this place was once very different. That we are

very temporary.

Today, maybe because the stormy weather feels like beach weather and beach weather always pulls the past into the present for me, like an inside-out sleeve.

Reinforcing the shade sails was on the list for today anyway, but by the time we'd had breakfast the temperature had dropped a full ten degrees and the wind had started and dark clouds were flying over the tops of the mountains, dragging blankets of shadow over everything below.
Orion held lengths of wire and pliers for me while I reached into the ancient, impenetrable and poisonous oleander to secure wire to the heaviest branches. Orion positively glowed, his eyes sparkled in brilliant strips of sunlight between the clouds. I recognized the particular excitement that comes with the battening down of hatches.

Being five is cool.

And I know this one well. Crystal memories of standing with my toes digging into cool sand, wet salty wind coating every strand of my hair with fine grit while grown ups screwed wooden planks over the windows, shouting and laughing over the wind.
I remember nightmares with great bonfires built along the beaches to hold back a huge swell of black water.

The shades have held, so far, though the wind is still going strong, blowing nests out of trees and plucking blossoms from the orange trees, ripping the bright, sweet fruit right out of winter.

Now, there's some time travel.

What does this have to do with art? What does this have to do with Poppets?
Everything.


Thank you for checking in. g'night

Here we go again

For Easter, we swam.

Yesterday, we swam again.

I thought, after a season of sloth, it would be like starting over. It was like coming home.

We floated a four-foot-wide ball on the water and took turns diving under it, coming up as close as possible without touching.

We pretended the ball was a normal size and that we were tiny.

It's possible, with some effort on my part, to go there, to become very small. For Orion it's easy, natural.

Today is for making art. I'll try to take some photos for 'Nuts and Bolts'.

We're getting back into the groove. We need to. Lots of work to be done

At two or so, Orion and I will try being small again. Gives us even more of a Poppet perspective.

Truly Darkly Deeply

Sometimes I fall into dark places. Sometimes I feel it coming for miles. Sometimes I just quietly slip off the edge without warning into a hole where I seem to be made of lead, with no ropes for rescue and no will to call for help.

That's what I get for thinking.

I'm fairly certain this is true. These little journey's to the dark side seem to be part of my information processing plant. Stuff goes in--art comes out.

In between it can get a bit complicated.

Everyone has to deal with some form of mental lights-out at some time or other. Artists are notorious for these forays into sometimes dibilating sadness.


I can tell you what I do to get through, tools I use to minimize the disruption and damage.

We'll be talking about this on the Inner Workings Forum at www.poppetplanet.com this weekend.

It's April. There are flowers blooming everywhere. There are baby birds chirping.

There are Peeps.

What better time to discuss the black holes artist's find themselves in? If you've ever visited one, you know this is as good a time as any.

Hope to see you on the forums.

Playing with Mirrors

One thing I'm sure of, as Poppets are concerned, is that Poppets like to play.

So I've made some dressed in theater costumes of favorite characters, beginning with some from the works of Lewis Carroll.

I'll want a whole set of these, eventually. I'm guessing a few others will too, so even though they'll all be hand-made and different, I'll be making a number of each character, so that those who want to will be able to, over time, collect all nine.

The costumes have obvious zippers or buttons or masks, and some Poppets have a bit of red peeking from underneath.

Making Poppet costumes is a lot like making toys. As I often say, when things get weird, I can still make toys.
Things got weird.

I'll be talking about things getting weird this weekend on the "Inner Workings" part of the forums. Hope you'll stop by and talk back.

Ben will be back tomorrow, and we'll re-open the studio, which is likely full of cobwebs and dust and creatures made of cobwebs, dust and neglect. We'll deal with those first, then get back to work.
Back to work is a good idea.

Orion and I are feeling better. Thanks everyone. We'll likely be swimming again soon. I'm looking forward to underwater.
Underwater is good.

Speaking of swimming...wetsuits...hmmm. Likely I should have a salad for dinner. But I'm not. I'm going to have chicken.
Chicken is good too.

g'night

Surreal

There's a surreal that's particular to cold symptoms, then to the meds that treat cold symptoms. First when the cold is 'fresh', that acute hyper-alertness where air currents seem alive, like eels swimming past.
The closest approximation to this phenomenon, as I recall, happened years ago at the cryo lab. I was working very late on a project report using Xylene- based markers in a tiny office with, as I discovered, extremely poor ventilation. Clearly the experience impressed me and though I don't remember all the details, I'm pretty sure I glimpsed the other side that night.

Anyway, after that, when the cold 'sets in' there's the foggy/fuzzy world of antihistamines.

Orion felt good enough for Pete to take him to see Ninja Turtles. I, being a day or two behind him, felt only good enough to watch a marathon of Stargate SG 1 and eat fattening things.
All soft foods are fattening and, just so you know, chocolate and Alka Seltzer Plus tasted together are strange and alien and not at all in a good way.

The National Coalition Against Censorship sent me three very cool T-shirts. The back of one of them reads:
Stop Book Banning!

Kids have a right to read:

In the Night Kitchen

The Lorax

I am the Cheese

Mother Goose

The Alfred Summer
Bridge to Terabithia

Blubber

etc., etc., etc.,

I agree. Possibly I should make it a mission to be sure all these are here in this house, which seems to be growing into the nest I always wanted, all on its own, which is to say, a combination of library, garden and art gallery. Huh. how'd that happen?


I got stir crazy enough to work on some little things I could do with my feet up. No writing. Too fuzzy for that one. But I made these tiny masks for poppets. I'm thinking, if I micro-drill holes in the sides and use fine wire...hmm...Little Red Poppets could actually wear these.

oh dear.

cocooning in company

Orion and I are under the weather, hunkering down for the duration with blankets and video games and books, Sponge Bob and Samurai Jack, juice and antibiotics.


It's Jack, actually, who teaches us to patiently wait these things out. It's Stephen King who comforts the Mom and Mr Square Pants who cracks us both up. Ouch. No laughing.


After a marathon, one can see that at some point SpongeBob jumped the proverbial shark. But when? Now that we know, we can file each into pre- or post-jump.

These could be our nerdiest moments to date.

Poppets are making their ways from here in all directions as I type this. I wish them all success in their travels. Hope some at least will send photos.

arrrgh. sniff. sigh. I will patiently put stuff into my brain while I'm too Nyquil-ed to pull anything out. Later, it will pay off. It always does.

g'night

Between

It's weird, not waking up every morning to head straight to the computer in my pajamas before the coffee is done to work with Ravyn on Poppet Planet for several hours before the 'day' has officially begun.
Then to work on articles and schedules and correspondence.

Sometimes it's necessary to spend a large amount of time on things that support the art instead of creating art. It's more than necessary. Seeing other creative people sharing ideas and links on the Poppet Planet forums tells me it's worth it. It's like working with authors---never in the direction I expected and nearly always better.

Still, when I go for too long without tapping into the creative force, I start to feel sort of thin and empty and not at all like the self I know.

A fortune teller named Jack waits for me, and a painting for Peter Beagle's Strange Roads. (btw, I read his novelette, " El Regale" in the Oct/Nov issue of Fantasy & Science Fiction. I fell once again under the spell of his funny and heartbreaking voice.)

Yes. Much work to be done and there's a pig's skull waiting to dance.

In the meantime, I'm catching up on other important things, like making block towers with Orion, who turned five on March 19 and is learning to add, and ride a bike.

On Sea Monkeys: Apparently sea monkeys do have expiration dates, as mine floated on top of the solution for three days, not at all turning into monkeys of any sort but turning the water green. And yes, I followed the directions correctly.

We swam on St. Paddy's day. It was clear and bright then. Now it's warm and stormy. Weird today((in a good way) in the car with Aubrey, listening to The Shins with the clouds moving fast enough to be creepy and the palm trees bending this way and that. Our own trees are loaded with orange blossums. The air is full of birdsong and bits of drifting fluff and petals and a fragility that, once noticed, never goes away.

We'll be sending out lots of Little Red Poppets in the next few days. I'm looking forward to some POT photos, hoping for a video or two and then, I'll be in the studio, welcoming me back.

g'night

POPPET PLANET IS LIVE; THE GALLERY IS OPEN

Well, it is Saturday, officially. One minute after midnight. I'm reading instructions for Sea Monkeys and half listening to Stargate. TiVo will let me watch it another day, with Orion.

I took lots of photos of the Little Fox Poppet Puppet collaboration with Robert Johnson Jr.

This http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4jPVAbQ-rpM
can happen when taking photos of a Puppet late at night and your spouse walks in with a cell phone.

The Gallery is open this week, celebrating the Vernal Equinox. Little Fox Poppet Puppet is among the new pieces, along with new Poppets, new Foppets and other stuff too.
New Pieces will be added until 5PM.

Note:
Neil Gaiman Rats will return in June. If you want to be on the mailing list to be notified, email to ravyn@poppetplanet.com

Another Note:
Ten percent of sales from Little Fox Poppet Puppet and all Little Red Poppets is for the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund. Little Mary Poppets are for NORML. Twenty percent of Star Play goes to the National Coalition Against Censorship. The auctions don't allow mention of that.

And Poppet Planet is up and running.
Already people are talking on the forums. TAKE A CLOSER LOOK.

And the last note:

Now that Poppet Planet is up, Ravyn and I are taking much-needed vacations.

Sheesh.
She's going snorkeling in the ocean. I'll snorkel at home.

That works out-- if there's Sea Monkey activity, I'll let you know.


Happy Saint Paddy's Day!

Do Sea Monkey's Have Expiration Dates?

Martin Mystery: "I'd rather be crazy than narrow-minded."
***

Random thought: It seems that, compared to disappointment, anger is sort of easy. Right, it starts as fear. I get that, but it's like converting food to sugar--once you get to the angry form, it's easier to digest. An angry person can become a whirling dervish of productive activity and work it off. He can yell and curse and tear it off like a skin.
Disappointment is different. It sinks in like dye and clings. It clogs and slows things down. Disappointment can make you just want to eat butter.

***

Baaaah, Baaaaah, Baaaaaaah. Sheep that I am, I will eventually try a Test Tube Alien. http://www.testtubealiens.com/ Yesterday I took a break with Orion to watch Martin Mystery and have Otter pops. Orion's favorite flavor is blue. Mine is pink. I saw an ad for TTA. I'll have to get one. I could make a good case for study, marketing curiosity. After all, it could be a lot of hype about, well, not much.
In the end, it doesn't matter one bit why I'll choose to spend money on this instead of something else. The bottom line will be simply that I did.

Which reminds me. Our Sea Monkeys have been sitting around forever. Time to add water. We'll consider this entry Day 01.
***
If you'd like to check out Poppet Planet before we officially open on Saturday go here: www.poppetplanet.com/ . It's mostly all up, this beta version (Ravyn calls it 0.9) except for the Vernal Equinox Sale stuff, which will be up on Saturday afternoon. The forums are already running, so check in and say hi to the moderators.
***

Paul Fisher(Balticon Podcasts) ask me to post this You Tube creation. http://www.lulu.tv/?p=6416 Parents of smallish kids will probably appreciate it most.
***
We are going for a walk. It's hard to hate the desert completely when the whole world smells of orange blossums. The pool water is seventy degrees. Time to dust off our suits.

g'night

One Hundred Reasons

One hundred pennies makes a dollar. One hundred years is a century. One hundred degrees Fahrenheit (and no rain) makes a desert.

I'm not ready for this. I'm not alone either. We got virtually no rain all winter and this week we're expecting triple digit temperatures. There's a fire burning in Orange County as I type this. And it's not fire season. Not nearly.

Every March, we find ourselves starting preparations for summer. The rainy season is over and the windy one begins to taper off. We repaint the pool deck and hang shades. We feed our plants and rearrange to protect them. We get out our swimsuits and flippers and goggles.
And hats. Always with the hats...
We sit outside and watch spectacular sunsets, drink a bit of wine and prepare ourselves mentally for the hell to come by reminding ourselves how much we enjoyed the winter.
But, this year, winter never came to the desert. And welcoming our guests to Tatooine isn't so funny at the moment. Not so funny when reports say that in the near future billions will die because of lack of water.

Does this make art less important? No. People who seek meaning always will, regardless of circumstances. Art will always help humanity express itself.

But...damn.

This is one of those questions I look forward to exploring on the Poppet Planet forums, of which there are four:

Inner Workings---Where we can talk about the creative process.

Nuts and Bolts---Where we discuss the practical aspects of creating--techniques and tools.

The Machine---Where we explore the world than influences us.

Spare Parts---For all the odd things that fall between.

Funny thing, aspects of this question could be discussed on any or all of these forums. I believe we chose them well. This will be a place where you can ask me specific questions and where you can share your ideas with each other. Ideally, you'll find inspiration here and possibly even like- minded souls to collaborate with.

*****

Ravyn is working now on POT (poppet on tour) pages. We already have a number of photos people have sent in. I look now at the Poppet Who Lives on My Desk. She (funny how they seem to choose their own genders) is a constant and unflinching reminder to try to look frankly at all that I see, including myself.
Ravyn has told me I must send her my 'wish list' for POT. I know that one of them is a Poppet viewing the Constitution of the US. I know there are lots of Poppets in the DC area. The dreamer in me envisions them finding each other on Poppet Planet, and going on a road trip to see the monuments with Poppetvision...

It could happen.

But, for now I must get to the studio. There is work to be done. Book covers (above, me with one in progress) and carnival pieces.
Even with the sun beating down.
Even with doom and idiocy on every channel.
Even with fearing for my children's futures.
But mostly, with an unerring faith that the work will show the way.

And, with a Poppet in my apron pocket. Because, with a little help, I can name one hundred reasons to keep going.

I really look forward to hearing yours.

In the meantime, did everyone see the Neil Gaiman mention on Adult Swim? Soon, our author will be too cool for his shoes.

EDIT: Here is the mention, on Snap Judgments which, it turns out, is a sort of cool site.

And, to Rebecca (Jordan's Mom) who will be our General Moderator for the forums, and is now quite ill with an extra evil sort of flu, much and many wishes for feeling better soon.

Now. Off to the studio we go.

A Rather Large List of Stuff

I have accumulated a list of things to tell you. They are:

Balticon
I’ll be attending Balticon in May. I’m not exactly sure what I’ll be doing other than exhibiting in the art show and doing some panels---possibly something with Peter Beagle too. When I know, you’ll know.
There’s a fair possibility that there will be a launch party for Poppetplanet.com, which should be fun. I’ll be there, and if you’re at Balticon, I hope you’ll be there too. I don’t have any signings scheduled, but if you want to bring anything, this would be a good place for it. DreamHaven books will be there with copies of Strange Birds. Bereshith Books will likely be there with copies of Strange Attraction. I’ll be happy to sign prints too.

Balticon Volunteers
On that same note, Ravyn tells me Balticon is looking for volunteers to serve as GOH Liaisons for Author GOH Larry Niven, Art GOH Joe Bergeron, and the two Compton Crook winning authors. Volunteers must be able to stay at con all weekend to support the GOHs. Ravyn says it's a good opportunity to spend time with authors and artists. Email ravyn@poppetplanet.com.

One of a Kind Official Poppet Registry

If you are a collector of One of a Kind Poppets, there will be an official Registry up on PoppetPlanet. A photo with name and creation date for each Poppet is up. If you’d like your name added to your Poppet's listing, please email the information to: poppetplanetgirl@gmail.com. You can list your full name or first name or alter-ego name, geographical location, and a short quote if you like.

Gene Wolfe
If you haven’t already, don’t forget to pick up your copy of Fantasy& Science Fiction (April). Gene’s photo is on the cover, with an article entitled “How to Read Gene Wolfe” by Neil Gaiman and “Memorare” by Gene Wolfe. You don’t want to miss this one.
In addition, this month’s LOCUS, has a new review of Strange Birds.

Flash
We’re looking for someone with Flash animation skills to help with a PoppetPlanet project. I could kick myself, for someone mentioned to me at Balticon last year that if I needed techo-genius-geek help I only need mention it. I did write it down, honestly, but where, where, where?? If you’re interested, and willing to help out for art, swag and general good-will of your artist, please email Ravyn at ravyn@poppetplanet.com.


Vernal Equinox Sale

We will be opening the gallery with new work in the spirit of the Vernal Equinox. There will be one of a kind Poppets, unique sculpture and some really cool collaborations. March 17th – 24th.

Café Press
There will be a Café Press shop within PoppetPlanet.com. Most of the stuff is up already, so if you’d like a sneak preview, go look around at www.cafepress.com/poppetplanet. Let us know what you think.

Ravynesque Recovering
And finally, on a happy note, it seems Ravyn’s horse, Ravynesque, is recovering well. Here in the desert, the Gurtie is very happy as well. Not only does her tooth feel better, but she has lots of new reasons to stare reproachfully at me. And I at her. It's an honest relationship, ours.

More Kalifornia

Yesterday,

I drive Aubrey to her yoga class, then to Vons for the only cat food Gurtie will currently eat--Fancy Feast SLICED!, beef or turkey. Picture grayish squares in translucent 'gravy' more viscose than snot---slightly less than melted plastic.

The cat suddenly hates the taste of seafood, even solid white albacore.

The warm weather annoys me. The beds of snap dragons annoy me. Snap dragons and California poppies. Everywhere. No other variety.

It occurs to me that, instead of giving a small fortune to the vet, I could've run her over with the car for free.
It occurs to me that as soon as I get home, I'll need to give her another dose of antibiotics with the oral syringe. No hold works. She is the devil. The best I can hope for is that she'll puncture a different finger this time. Typing is becoming uncomfortable. I wash my hands too often for band-aids.

All the extra snow-bird traffic annoys me. There are snap dragons and poppies everywhere I look. The flowers annoy me more than the traffic.

At the traffic light a hang-dog faced man holds a cardboard "Homeless" sign. I know there's a fair certainty he's scamming. I give him five dollars. Let him deal with the Karma. I'd give him the finger too if mine weren't so sore.

At Vons, I park directly in front of a Cadillac Escolade with an elderly woman in the passenger seat, picking her nose with joyful abandon. I call Neil's cell to tell him about her and that I saw the Poppet in the 8 ball. (seems DanGuy is responsible for that one) Get his voice mail. I'd text it, but my fingers hurt. She digs for the full five minutes it takes me to listen to my voice mails and find my shopping list. Cat food. Right.

I come back to the car with a bag of loose cans of Fancy Feast SLICED! Beef in (shudder) gravy. (They were on sale, cheaper than buying a twelve pack.) A can falls out of a hole in the bottom of the shopping bag into the store's flower bed of snap dragons, poppies and...marigolds. I sneeze eleven times, then feel around in the flowers for the can. When I pull it out, I get a little cactus thorn in my finger---one of those you can hardly see, probably just sitting on one of the flowers, waiting.
I drop the can back into the bag and look closer at the thorn, which is beginning to sting like a bitch, and the bag splits and eight cans fall into the flowers. The sprinklers click and hiss on.

My head fills with white light.

I'm Yosemite Sam. I'm a steam whistle. I'm capable of levitating.
rickin-rackin-frickin-frackin...
I take a slow, deep breath. There's no rain, there's no snow on the mountains, the air is dry and there are sprinklers hissing all around me.

I close my eyes and think about Samurai Jack. No, not Jesus, (though it seems he was a pretty amazing human, if not a little delusional--who wouldn't be in his shoes?) Samurai Jack. What would Samurai Jack do?
I take several deep breaths, sneeze six more times and retrieve the wet cans, throwing them one at a time into the floor of the car.

At the corner, the homeless man with the hang-dog expression waves a bright yellow Dominoes Pizza banner.


When I pull into the driveway at home our gardener is waiting for me. He has a Razor phone and drives a nicer car than mine. He says if I put it off any longer it will be too hot.

I must decide about flowers for the beds.

Days Like This

A note about pets. Anyone who has one, or is considering getting one, really should be prepared for the day to come---because it truly is a matter of when, not if---when you give a nice Vet more money than you imagined you ever would, when you clean up things you didn't know existed, and when you balance it all in that room in your head where you make sense of things that don't.
In other words, a cat with a toothache or a horse with an eye problem can make for an interesting day. Ravyn agrees. http://ravynmaniac.livejournal.com/18770.html#cutid1


It's going to be a long night, with work going on two computers and one very clingy post-oral- surgery feline. I've spent more time writing lately than sculpting, which works out well for Gurtie as I have a lap to sit on when I'm working at my desk. It works out well for me too because it forces me to think about how visual language does and does not translate into the linear.

It's not like time travel at all, unless I consider that I can sit down to work on a narrative piece and completely lose track of time.

I did an interview for Fantasy Magazinehttp://www.wildsidepress.com/Fantasy-Magazine-4-issue-international-subscription_p_0-45.html which will be out in April. I talked a bit about when words and art work together, and when they don't. The questions were interesting. I appreciated that they didn't ask the usual five that make me want to stick the nearest sharp object into my eye. oops, sorry Ravyn.

It still looks possible that Poppet Planet will be up and running by St Paddy's day. We'll be opening the gallery for another sale then too, with new work of mine and some new collaborations.

I see a poppet-like face has appeared on Neil's Magic 8 Ball. He has snow and freezing air, I have 80 degrees and blue skies. Perhaps we should trade houses for a week. We humans are funny with our need for novelty and change. The mountains are starting to accumulate a little snow. A lot would be better. The desert didn't get even its usual share of rain this winter. That doesn't portent well for summer.

There. It's midnight. Gurtie sleeps on my lap and Orion sleeps on the sofa. Time to put them both in their own beds and decide between sleep and coffee.

g'night

Chipping wisdom

Lots of folk are digging out of snow and we are smack in the middle of basking season again. I refuse to feel guilty on this one. Believe me, it won't last long. Still, today we ate at the famous Sherman's Deli---outside---and I had half of an obscenely large Reuben sandwich. (The rest sits quietly in the studio refrigerator, snarling softly, waiting for midnight.)


The cool air and warm skies won out and I decided to try the canopy project after all. ( A wind storm several months ago destroyed our largest and I mused on replacing it with a huge papier mache...thing.) It's a fairly large undertaking and I can't really take days off to work on it, but I've decided to chip away at it in bits until it's done or I admit defeat. (Not likely, but it could happen.)

Let me say something about the wisdom of chipping away at something. I don't employ it often enough, though its logic is indisputable. It seems we wait too often. We wait and we lug our dreams around like wet baggage because we can't let go, but can't convince ourselves to find time for them. Short term goals gobble up the long term plans and the days go by and we arrive at the future blinking in surprise.

It's not like time travel.
It is time travel.

Thirty minutes. Maybe just once a week. Maybe the thirty minutes consists of cleaning a corner of a desk to work at. Possibly it consists of staring at a blank sheet of paper and thinking about the "it" we want to do.
Maybe it consists of finding a blank sheet of paper to stare at.

It is, after all, as they say, a process. Wise folk, who've written books, produced plays, learned the piano, shaped their bodies, and mastered difficult languages will say it works.

I would tend to believe them.


g'night

Pooferific

Ben and I spent hours in studio, with the fortune teller. Scuba gear would better serve to replace missing safety goggles with the air hose attached.
I couldn't find the scuba hoses.

If we don't clean the studio soon, we may have to torch it and start over.


Ravyn and I spent hours working on some very minute details for Poppet Planet. Hard work, but the technology was good. Instant, instant, instant. Not quite flying cars, but pretty damned good. I began to truly appreciate the effectiveness of fonts. Seriously. Once I saw it, I wondered how I missed it before. Huh.


In between there were the usual phone calls and emails, writing and schedules, people stopping by.


In the evening Orion and I went to Vons. We made it an adventure in silliness. When we got home, we put everything away and made "anti- smores", which is Ritz crackers and mini marshmallows, stuck on with peanut butter and toasted in the broiler of an old and sometimes slightly sinister-looking oven.

We made a game of who could stick the most marshmallows on a cracker without stacking.
Then we ate the loose marshmallows left.
Then, while we watched them swell (poof) through the oven door, we made up words with poof.

"Look, they're slightly poofy."
"No, they're quite poofious"
"Sir, the poofericity is increasing."
"But yes, they're oh so Poofilicious... don't call me 'sir'.
"Sorry, your Poofness."
and so on in the manner that makes four-year-olds collapse in giggles.

The giggling may have gone on longer, but in just moments, our anti-smores were quite brown and, once out of the heat, quite ordinary looking but very tasty.

It seems there are never enough moments like these. There never were. We tend sometimes to work hard, investing in our futures, when finally we might find out if we invested enough in good memories.

But there were some. Thank goodness for the some.

Eventually, there will be more. Because, as our dear Mr. King says, "Everything's eventual."