tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-243269312024-03-13T23:27:36.605-04:00Studio FullerA blog about creativity, keeping sane and scribbling but not necessarily in that order.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger679125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24326931.post-69384149165378186702020-06-02T16:42:00.001-04:002020-06-02T16:42:57.400-04:00You Make It Your Choice Before It Isn't<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv5uPhcD8d55bLCCQO36GHGiYXbYAEZkhP1K-Wem4tn62NrredqKqLTjszVpAs5727LXH6-xfSmJoFs0WkrgOrkVBS4ktuVm4mYRwODFiMzNqI9ymMYyIM6KQ2EhF1uXeCDH4F/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv5uPhcD8d55bLCCQO36GHGiYXbYAEZkhP1K-Wem4tn62NrredqKqLTjszVpAs5727LXH6-xfSmJoFs0WkrgOrkVBS4ktuVm4mYRwODFiMzNqI9ymMYyIM6KQ2EhF1uXeCDH4F/s320/C0DC5943-D3EC-442A-A8C5-A92C0951A57E.JPG" /></a></div>This break.<div>This thing.</div><div>One day I was a teacher.</div><div>The next, navigating new.</div><div>I'm not good with new.</div><div>But I rolled with it.</div><div><br /></div><div>Time.</div><div>I got a little break.</div><div>But nearly everyone else</div><div>it seems did not.</div><div>Time to sit with myself.</div><div>Turns out I like me.</div><div>But not all of the time.</div><div><br /></div><div>Time for new.</div><div>Time to break through.</div><div>Cut the string that ties the bird down.</div><div>But sometimes it's just easier to </div><div>not like myself.</div><div><br /></div><div>Sea change-something "new and strange".</div><div>You make it your choice now.</div><div>Before it isn't.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24326931.post-18297514020076677912019-06-30T19:42:00.000-04:002019-06-30T19:42:32.408-04:00Bergamot and Black Tea<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I have been in search of smell.<br />
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I know. I know it sounds weird. But I'm finding that smell is my one sense that has really taken a nosedive (I know, I know). My sight too but my glasses easily correct at this point.<br />
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The other night while at a friends beautiful house up on a hill in a historic Virginia town I found myself in her guest bathroom smelling her candles. You may read magazines, raid the medicine cabinet, me, I smell the hand soap and the candles. And there, right there, I smelled my childhood. I don't know why, some concoction of something my mother wore (but she didn't wear perfume), something she cooked, not sure but there it was, 19 Carousel Court wafting into my nose.<br />
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I promptly went home and found the company online, Sydney Hale based in Richmond and ordered the candle as well as some small samples. These samples are concentrated wonders.<br />
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I recently bought a conditioner that smells like being stood up on New Years Eve in tenth grade. I had used some Suave mousse in my curly hair (the smell), put on a brown plaid mini skirt, black tights and Doc Martens, black top, artsy not trying too hard look, I sat by the phone in my parents room which was directly across from a mirror. I looked good, I thought.<br />
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8pm, 9pm, 10pm no call. Boyfriend never came. Best friend called from party, "He's here. With another girl."<br />
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I remember feeling really down about it but then felt even better about myself. Even though I peeled my tights off and threw them in a ball to the corner of my shared room, the skirt went back into my closet, I knew I was worth more than the sum of that night. Now, don't get me wrong, I was 16. I didn't go galloping into that night on a horse of my own. But I felt a glimmer of what would be considered self assurance. Confidence, not so much but awareness of who I am, that I knew. Aware that I was worth more and deserved better.<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24326931.post-87985860877057409382018-10-01T09:53:00.000-04:002018-10-01T09:53:01.029-04:00Hot Meal<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">I am saving</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">This last piece</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">For you.</span></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-48ce4b60-7fff-e015-1e0e-088b0210f7c2" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">I really want</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">To take it to you</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Walk it </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">out the front door</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">But here it is</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">In light of hanging lamp</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">On kitchen table.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Left for you</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">And your return</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">This hot meal </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">A promise broken</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Streets are calling</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Your home forgotten</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">I really want</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">To hold you tight</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">And keep you from</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">The broken things</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">That love can’t fix.</span></div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24326931.post-17606451778837875492018-04-02T13:09:00.000-04:002018-04-02T13:09:01.327-04:00Enough<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beautiful bookmarks my students made for books heading to Haiti.</td></tr>
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I have been teaching art for eighteen years. Only eight of those have been full time. Teaching art full time as I have mentioned years before is really challenging and kind of sucks the life out of something that I clearly love. So I am part time again at a wonderful school. The stars aligned, I was perfect for the job and the job perfect for me. I teach studio art and I integrate art into their science and social studies lessons. It's challenging and important, the perfect place for me to be.<br />
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The other professional side of me though is ready. I have been making deadlines, drawing characters, experimenting, creating and always with my eye on working toward illustrating and writing children's books. It just takes one yes, to realize that I am a treasure trove of ideas with a dogged work ethic .<br />
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My JMU printmaking professor and mentor Jack once said to us, "You don't have to have your engine going full blast all the time, but never turn it off, always keep it idling." That folks, is me.<br />
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I think of how many MORE children I could reach (past the thousands I have already taught) with books. This is what drives me, this is what keeps my engine idling and moving forward.<br />
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So here's to 2018. It's already been so creative. Here's to finding that next step in my career.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24326931.post-60272912812381625572017-09-28T12:36:00.002-04:002017-09-28T12:39:21.956-04:00My Second Act<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjosBLShVG20DTRB-TfClY6yvDdX57S7mABle-6FzyWs3u-z6vWVRpnd4-gTYrD7ghai82Y1Geivv9DEYwYMz-X4fgla5_J6rrIv6t6XgpAQrpD0RFdnV62NSITp-W4VNNLNk1P/s1600/FullSizeRender+%25285%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjosBLShVG20DTRB-TfClY6yvDdX57S7mABle-6FzyWs3u-z6vWVRpnd4-gTYrD7ghai82Y1Geivv9DEYwYMz-X4fgla5_J6rrIv6t6XgpAQrpD0RFdnV62NSITp-W4VNNLNk1P/s640/FullSizeRender+%25285%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From <b>There's A Spider-</b>the book that will have librarians everywhere quaking in their sensible shoes.</td></tr>
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<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Or third...or fourth....<br />
<br />
I hesitate to say it's an act. Because writing and illustrating has never been an act for me.<br />
<br />
I have always wanted to write and draw children's books. And I have never stopped doing just so.<br />
<br />
Always.<br />
<br />
And now, well, it is the time. With two finished novels under my belt (and on my laptop) and so many picture books written and scribbled up that I have lost count.<br />
<br />
And there are MORE ideas, they are piling up. Until I feel I might burst.<br />
<br />
This is my lane.<br />
<br />
And this is my time.<br />
<br />
So I'm going for it. And I'm not waiting in line. I'm going to use my everything to make this happen.<br />
Every mark. Every word. Built, stacked, placed, studied, drawn and erased. Here they go.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24326931.post-51854255342829374472017-08-31T09:24:00.002-04:002017-08-31T09:27:17.048-04:00My _____ Foot<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhphdGuVfiabfX0TPkFyrM8JH8xOgRIjuC8Mj9xLXWro7ETSeZi6FkvIzTOgWeDwnVLLiVwgN6BDtfL7mQvOdlT5WUZvTzfGLujYKvDHgj-cQj0n_Dm9q39L1aVs4XH7xbiXJm9/s1600/IMG_0375.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhphdGuVfiabfX0TPkFyrM8JH8xOgRIjuC8Mj9xLXWro7ETSeZi6FkvIzTOgWeDwnVLLiVwgN6BDtfL7mQvOdlT5WUZvTzfGLujYKvDHgj-cQj0n_Dm9q39L1aVs4XH7xbiXJm9/s640/IMG_0375.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Live music makes me happy.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_PvDbsTM_4eqViLGh-ZocrSVP_5kUoq_3oUnOTvA_xTNjMCEDawGTCtjRaUutUFoi1wPHNKgKxnydNNXEwocP85r0FcT1SM-O0NaYBLSAKvOqlmGPqxyz_HtocgNCysgKYW2r/s1600/IMG_0376.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_PvDbsTM_4eqViLGh-ZocrSVP_5kUoq_3oUnOTvA_xTNjMCEDawGTCtjRaUutUFoi1wPHNKgKxnydNNXEwocP85r0FcT1SM-O0NaYBLSAKvOqlmGPqxyz_HtocgNCysgKYW2r/s640/IMG_0376.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At least there's Wolf Trap</td></tr>
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<br />
<br />
<br />
You thought I was gonna say My Left Foot right? Nope. I don't want to talk about that traitor. That foot that was supposed to be walking by now. She's stubborn and unhappy and darn right resentful. AND she's U G L Y.<br />
<br />
But she's nothing compared to my right. My right, she's pissed. For eleven weeks she's been picking up the slack that left is not doing. Never in her right mind would she want to haul this woman all by herself. She is NOT GOING TO LAST much longer, she says.<br />
<br />
Convo:<br />
<br />
LEFT: What the hell did you do to me? (day after surgery)<br />
<br />
RIGHT: Ha ha!<br />
<br />
Days pass on couch.<br />
<br />
LEFT: This is ridiculous. Who does this to their own foot?<br />
<br />
RIGHT: Shhhhhh.....Gettin' some beauty rest over here.<br />
<br />
<br />
Crutches.<br />
<br />
RIGHT: Shit.<br />
LEFT: Now you're talkin'<br />
<br />
<br />
And so on and so on for over ten weeks now.<br />
<br />
Hi Beth! How was your summer?<br />
Oh I had a new ligament drilled into my bones and you?<br />
<br />
I'm walking on one crutch now. Doing physical therapy. I can now add PT's to my list of modern day saints.<br />
<br />
1.Middle school teachers<br />
2. Post-everything Nurses<br />
3. Physical therapists<br />
<br />
It's a short list.<br />
<br />
Oh wait....<br />
<br />
4. My right foot.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24326931.post-49029221544020656392016-12-08T10:00:00.000-05:002017-04-23T18:39:22.025-04:00Thoughts On A Drive To CostcoI'm driving to Costco.<br />
And you're just a pile of bones.<br />
My foot presses on the pedal.<br />
Light comes through the sunroof.<br />
I remember you.<br />
<br />
You are just tendons and bone chips under<br />
a Pennsylvania winter.<br />
You used to kiss me<br />
in the basement<br />
19<br />
in love<br />
hazel green eyes<br />
and black leopard tattoo<br />
carefully hidden from parents<br />
on right shoulder blade<br />
<br />
I'm driving to buy<br />
paper towels.<br />
<br />
You were found five days later<br />
dead<br />
with your dog in the Nevada desert.<br />
My love letter still in your wallet.<br />
Unfolded, re-folded, creased to fabric like soft.<br />
<br />
Hair in tufts, baby soft<br />
My last call.<br />
I'll be there..... wait.<br />
But didn't go.<br />
<br />
Driving to buy bulk.<br />
<br />
Fisherman sweater<br />
Doorway hug.<br />
Twelve cars totaled.<br />
Boarding school<br />
Troubled child<br />
Loves me<br />
I can't fix him.<br />
<br />
Driving to buy juice boxes<br />
<br />
Your fingers drumming on bar's edge<br />
years later<br />
spotted<br />
There was nothing you could do<br />
she said<br />
He looked, well.<br />
Beautiful? And?<br />
He looked like hell.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24326931.post-69025560135414724302016-11-27T13:41:00.003-05:002016-11-27T13:41:50.272-05:00Waterproof<br />
<br />
<br />
Let me talk about....<br />
<br />
buying waterproof mascara. Parking in the CVS parking lot with a specific purpose. I mean, when does anyone go into a store to just buy one thing? And such a silly....thing. It seems futile at a time like this and selfish. We do dumb things every day. We waste gobs of time. We think the most mundane things are important and we stress on them, doting on them like we gave birth to them.<br />
<br />
I used to swim competitively. I bought waterproof mascara.<br />
<br />
Now I buy it for a funeral. For a 42 year old beautiful woman. For a mother of two. For a creative like me. For a life that ended and wrapped up in five quick months like a mad dash for the door.<br />
Every day, I look at her picture. And I am reminded that I am alive. I will continue to tell stories that show the human spirit in all of its rawness and beauty. I won't let her spirit wither idly. And I won't waste a minute of my time however it is dolled out, rolled out and divided up.<br />
<br />
Life is short.<br />
Time is nigh.<br />
Love gives its all.<br />
So will I.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24326931.post-32646044650495545682016-11-03T19:09:00.001-04:002017-08-31T23:10:25.453-04:00Every One An Island Part 1<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiflJzI3bcA26ydVXr1e4YTAtLppbnNpMiJPw3j4alQBn5pwIAvvwdMdwvvjUWSeAxqka3wpwqPINa5rbG_KgQUGZu6p44n1QgZUG09ThGVNLiq5eROAgmrgOOhS8Nx-r_SxXPy/s1600/IMG_7991.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiflJzI3bcA26ydVXr1e4YTAtLppbnNpMiJPw3j4alQBn5pwIAvvwdMdwvvjUWSeAxqka3wpwqPINa5rbG_KgQUGZu6p44n1QgZUG09ThGVNLiq5eROAgmrgOOhS8Nx-r_SxXPy/s640/IMG_7991.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">early morning edit.</td></tr>
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<br />
<br />
<br />
I live such a boring and simple life.<br />
When I clear my recent browsing history here's what you'll find:<br />
<br />
Petfinder (shhhh I want another puppy)<br />
<br />
How to query your YA novel. It's almost done and I recently thought, like really thought about my cousin who I wrote it for...Ryan, who died at 18 in Blacksburg, Va. Fell backward out of his seventh story dorm window to his almost death. He was not quite dead yet when they found him. The note. The illness, the nothing we could do. So I wrote him back to life. In my book, well, I honored him and put a face to mental illness. Because it has a face and it's sometimes handsome and unassuming. We can never know what he was feeling. We can't go back and ask, hey Ryan, how are you doing? Can I help?<br />
<br />
Lessons for squirrely kindergarten art classes (yes, it gets hits)<br />
<br />
How to speed up your MacBook (that everyone keeps borrowing because really, whose house has only one computer? I mean, c'mon Ours does).<br />
<br />
How to unclog your Bosch dishwasher, (yes this one's on you lady, you picked the stupid thing out).<br />
<br />
How to teach a 7 year old savant how to draw when he already knows how. I am so privileged to keep one of my former students. He is quite extraordinary. I'm into new territory with this guy.<br />
<br />
I have always known I would create books.<br />
I'm only a paragraph away from finishing my first book and I'm finding it hard to say goodbye. These characters have lived with me for four years. And I love them so much. But I think it's time to share them. So, Ryan. I love you. This one is for you. You dear soul. My littlest brother.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24326931.post-53535045851346162482016-07-16T15:12:00.002-04:002016-07-16T15:12:21.998-04:00Salt Fishing<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJUZmo_A3HntD8mIvd_87GhaVFSldZCXZo-HHxn9BjA2tboY7zTvBM4TjcMsFLOvT-g8yNyyo_J71EuaM-oIDYFchuXHrmYisnLXjH7ztIJmw0OZZ4OVCdBNkcqSj2gFAWaSbX/s1600/snake+hill.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJUZmo_A3HntD8mIvd_87GhaVFSldZCXZo-HHxn9BjA2tboY7zTvBM4TjcMsFLOvT-g8yNyyo_J71EuaM-oIDYFchuXHrmYisnLXjH7ztIJmw0OZZ4OVCdBNkcqSj2gFAWaSbX/s640/snake+hill.jpg" width="440" /></a></div>
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Sometimes I make art that comes from absolutely nowhere. The fish, yes, I can see me drawing fish. The snakes on the side. I wonder if someone could psychoanalyze this and make something of those legless creatures. </div>
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I've been on a health kick. 12 days of kicking my own butt. I'm on an eight week program and by golly it's working. I am so tired of being the woman at the beach who looks at other ladies with the toned muscles and thinks, I used to be like that. I did. I swear. This year, stress made me sick. It's amazing how it can do that. If you have some time, this <a href="http://dvd.netflix.com/Movie/National-Geographic-Stress-Portrait-of-a-Killer/70107420">documentary</a> is mind blowing.</div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24326931.post-85998066596147993562016-07-09T08:05:00.000-04:002016-07-09T08:05:17.033-04:00Rocky Coast<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPWDflPdHRKKpXI6QY5iWAn_bZOSHMbvSE1fOp7hgiC4qZqa0rI9U5EYcQsRWbKkQ5Ng0o8eRkPJ3CvyFJPr6L47HuYLzZyeNFdqRauhpYHL3hYy3mfmwOv6Y9IspSZCMdtQfQ/s1600/maine+cabin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="460" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPWDflPdHRKKpXI6QY5iWAn_bZOSHMbvSE1fOp7hgiC4qZqa0rI9U5EYcQsRWbKkQ5Ng0o8eRkPJ3CvyFJPr6L47HuYLzZyeNFdqRauhpYHL3hYy3mfmwOv6Y9IspSZCMdtQfQ/s640/maine+cabin.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is an older piece that I finally found the solution to. More rocks to come.</td></tr>
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<br />
So, I've left my full time (art in bulk) position at two elementary schools. I will miss the kids and the teachers there. It was a great fit for me for three years. But I struggled. Zipping out the door, bag on shoulder, kids in some sort of state of dress, missing library books, where's my shoe, nope, can't help got to run....to school (for fear of being late and being called out for it). This past year, stress pulled across my face like a cheap mud mask. The young blonde happy to be teaching again woman pictured on my badge had been replaced by one with much gray hair and a constant gut feeling that she was supposed to do something more.<br />
<br />
So, I lept. (With support from my husband and family). To go to a more child centered school this fall, a charter school and part time. I'm joining a TEAM, not a STAFF. I'm part of the A in STEAM. A school with arts integration as a key component, I've found a home.<br />
<br />
I used to have this friend, she was with me all the time. Creativity. She whispered, wouldn't that be cool, oh you SO have to do that, in my ear almost every day. But the noise in my head crowded her out. 600 kids, 10,000 assessments (yes, you read that right), 25 classes, yearbook (staff of one), piling up and pushing out....It's time to clean, clear and move on.<br />
<br />
Every day, I will be traveling up and over a little mountain to a historic district of Hillsboro, Va founded in 1765. I can't wait to get the camera out. I'm excited to meet my 120 students (Still sounds like a lot but much more manageable than 632). It's new, it's change and it's exciting.<br />
<br />
It's something more.<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24326931.post-63084556499794819142016-05-22T10:04:00.000-04:002016-05-22T10:04:24.086-04:00Change<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0azPP2ypcjPABus62L3e8PmCBNjQ5nrOlWNwMHE8i6nQ5O-oXPxVCF2NgcIaoJnzhe5SLCQ_8Pb7CNycydUGgBnajefIFSJtUZEmz3gFP72o8UtwCXqSFdNTDObygsEGuMEUY/s1600/IMG_6774.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0azPP2ypcjPABus62L3e8PmCBNjQ5nrOlWNwMHE8i6nQ5O-oXPxVCF2NgcIaoJnzhe5SLCQ_8Pb7CNycydUGgBnajefIFSJtUZEmz3gFP72o8UtwCXqSFdNTDObygsEGuMEUY/s640/IMG_6774.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I know I've written about this scary little thing before, change. But I couldn't tell you when as I have completely fallen off the blogging grid. I will say though, there's nothing like a fire underneath you to make you move out of the direction of the flame.<br />
Amanda Palmer told this antidote that I found to fit so perfectly.<br />
An old man sat on the porch seeming calm and unaffected by the howling going on inside his house. A neighbor asks, what is going on? What's that noise?<br />
Old man responds, oh, it's my dog.<br />
The neighbor is disturbed, why is your dog howling? Shouldn't you help him?<br />
Oh no, he's just sitting on a nail.<br />
What? the neighbor responds. Why doesn't he get up?<br />
It doesn't hurt enough yet, the old man says.<br />
<br />
Many mornings, I wake up reflective. And I ask myself, Does it hurt enough yet?<br />
Does not making your art hurt enough yet? Not taking care of yourself hurt enough yet? Not making career decisions that are necessary hurt enough yet? Because all of this is good change. Making art again-good change. Healthier choices-good change. New direction in teaching-good change. Still it has teeth. It's scary. And no matter, people will judge. But in the long run, it's what's best for me and my family.<br />
Scary means new things, new things mean new art, new views mean better life. That's good enough for me.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24326931.post-89479363146494374482015-11-28T13:18:00.002-05:002016-05-01T08:17:27.547-04:00The Underneath<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0a9B-LEO6WpQzrZi8UaLCj1ulr0glRWo2xyo__dV9JodbHSGzeHZDOF88I0Gsxj8IxX3mRANpJ6SbvoqhyphenhyphenHFPycaytQSgJwrB8LrEdlJXXPabjo4bllOo5C_0p-ydxkZsuniA/s1600/IMG_0120.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0a9B-LEO6WpQzrZi8UaLCj1ulr0glRWo2xyo__dV9JodbHSGzeHZDOF88I0Gsxj8IxX3mRANpJ6SbvoqhyphenhyphenHFPycaytQSgJwrB8LrEdlJXXPabjo4bllOo5C_0p-ydxkZsuniA/s640/IMG_0120.JPG" width="518" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZjd2gkqKiYYhxw5rDubCwBjzpCubueXKvVLOtrixMwqQOqVY-VCU0nmt4Vv1Zhc50iUFsarGc-CnCzIuhXl2ZpWvBaqMRoHOOYiZj_JL0jjQ9ThVmcEb87M9QrwYZjzIzDp-X/s1600/IMG_0121.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZjd2gkqKiYYhxw5rDubCwBjzpCubueXKvVLOtrixMwqQOqVY-VCU0nmt4Vv1Zhc50iUFsarGc-CnCzIuhXl2ZpWvBaqMRoHOOYiZj_JL0jjQ9ThVmcEb87M9QrwYZjzIzDp-X/s640/IMG_0121.JPG" width="460" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
This fall has been tough. Our second dog died of old age. We are dogless now. Trying to get another, but disappointment after disappointment. Mom, breast cancer, but alive and doing well. My job, tiring. 600 kids coming through my room, a week, my head is spinning. I'm finding myself jealous of the cashiers at Wegmans. (Hey, it is a good job). I am better in small batches. I love to teach to the student and not so much in bulk. It took 15 years to realize this. But that's just it. As we age, we get wiser as to what's best for us.<br />
Why is change so scary as you get older?<br />
Today, we almost got a dog. A little black lab mixed with pointer but there were two families ahead of us at the shelter. I got myself ready to walk it in the morning, to buy the body toppling bag of dog food again, to pick up EVERYTHING off the floor. I saw the father and son who got the little guy. I'm sure they'll be great. We would be better of course.<br />
<br />
I have been a teacher since I was 19. It was one of those things that I thought would fill the gaps. The in-betweens, you know. I like it, I do but I want something more....<br />
So who am I to want to want more from a job? But I do.<br />
<br />
Sometimes, when I'm on here, I click the link to "other posts you might enjoy". why thank you blogger. I just read my post about taking my boys to see the Blue Man group. My oldest son cajoled me into buying him a red DC hoodie (read the post <a href="http://studiofuller.blogspot.com/2011/04/no-worry-life-short.html">here</a>) and darned if he doesn't STILL wear the thing. When I read these though, I find myself short of breath on occasion. How did I let things change so much? How is it that I don't remember the looks on their faces when the toilet paper shot out of Blue Man cannons? I feel sometimes like I am drowning in the rapids of time swooshing past.<br />
Just trying to pop my head up above the water.<br />
The dog.<br />
He/she would have been a great distraction.<br />
We would have been the better choice of course.<br />
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<a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/?url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.blogger.com%2Fblogger.g%3FblogID%3D24326931%23editor%2Ftarget%3Dpost%3BpostID%3D8947936314649437448&media=https%3A%2F%2F3.bp.blogspot.com%2F-22RrtwuK3Gg%2FVlntkWGqdsI%2FAAAAAAAADQo%2FS1E2zVrH22A%2Fs640%2FIMG_0121.JPG&xm=h&xv=sa1.37.01&xuid=Ru9j3czijT5F&description=" style="background-color: transparent; background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 123px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 730px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a><a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/?url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.blogger.com%2Fblogger.g%3FblogID%3D24326931%23editor%2Ftarget%3Dpost%3BpostID%3D8947936314649437448&media=https%3A%2F%2F3.bp.blogspot.com%2F-22RrtwuK3Gg%2FVlntkWGqdsI%2FAAAAAAAADQo%2FS1E2zVrH22A%2Fs640%2FIMG_0121.JPG&xm=h&xv=sa1.37.01&xuid=Ru9j3czijT5F&description=" style="background-color: transparent; background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 123px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 730px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a><br />
<a href="" style="background-color: transparent; background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a><a href="" style="background-color: transparent; background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24326931.post-79013333615875655392015-11-05T18:49:00.002-05:002015-11-05T18:52:10.028-05:00Remember<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBfZ4ZYc-pmG2uZF_VZU7VqAwRAMw-T0BfyXsDdrzfNLLEMq9GxiJX9g6Ee6FLQ1YEZA4jpHaUuGF-4-ibhbUt0ksQniPLYLthfNXptjFqNRs761tpW-7ck3FmdMi5ezJbQVOI/s1600/IMG_5749.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBfZ4ZYc-pmG2uZF_VZU7VqAwRAMw-T0BfyXsDdrzfNLLEMq9GxiJX9g6Ee6FLQ1YEZA4jpHaUuGF-4-ibhbUt0ksQniPLYLthfNXptjFqNRs761tpW-7ck3FmdMi5ezJbQVOI/s640/IMG_5749.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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...when you were home from college (or other living arrangement) and there were no cell phones? No way for anyone to get in touch with you if you didn't give them your parents' number....I loved those pockets of family. I'd have a cup of coffee with my mom, go to the Christmas tree farm with my dad (blue sweater, green puffy vest before they were cool, JCrew lug boots.....Great Falls), have drinks at Clyde's (In Reston) maybe bump into some old flame or other body back from University or far flung state. My grandfather declared Clyde's crab cakes Baltimore worthy. I loved visiting him going up four floors and walking all the way down the breezeway to their apartment. I'd look towards the center and see all the other balconies, wondering if twenty year olds were visiting like I was. Another spot where I couldn't be found and yet be totally loved. The check out ladies at Safeway knew my grandfather by name.<br />
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I crave those pockets now. I'm a soul needing rest. My mind has been churning and worrying and going full speed. I heard the words, I have cancer, from a loved one. We are heading down a road I've never traveled on....<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24326931.post-62521812624941291902015-10-30T17:47:00.000-04:002015-10-31T11:39:33.638-04:00Scary<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw6u1CF0AU7cNSQsE_qtgtnxDAj5QzOPZGomYJM2QTUZ7gzLQUGrYJJZR8omAPZfbMLpub6mB7YXaAZf2h8iJldwdNxqVI5btAk3Zd4usHDNInggCLUsl1RKGqKVvBq0YvP9ih/s1600/IMG_0060.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw6u1CF0AU7cNSQsE_qtgtnxDAj5QzOPZGomYJM2QTUZ7gzLQUGrYJJZR8omAPZfbMLpub6mB7YXaAZf2h8iJldwdNxqVI5btAk3Zd4usHDNInggCLUsl1RKGqKVvBq0YvP9ih/s640/IMG_0060.JPG" width="468" /></a></div>
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So I did something scary. I made myself do something scary. I signed myself up for our regional SCBWI conference. Ok. Not scary. Then I signed myself up for a book dummy review. So so semi scary. (nice alliteration there eh?). Then I saw who my review was with, oh yeah, only the VP Creative Director for Simon and Schuster, Dan Potash. Deep breath. What are you here for Beth? You're here (and I talked myself through this on my many 7 minute commutes this school year) to step outside of your comfort zone, to meet people, to show you're serious. (Don't get me wrong, I've always been serious about my art). And he couldn't have been nicer. Honestly, I want to hire him as a mentor. His excitement flipping through my sketchbook (scary). His candor and honesty. And he might as well have been reading my mind.<br />
<br />
My dummy was for Big and Bert, a longneck and his buddy on the move. It's a cool little book, it's not that he didn't like it but he caught me. He caught me. He caught me, doing what I think others would like. "I've only known you seven minutes and I can see <b>you</b> in your sketchbook. How about you here (in books etc.)?"<br />
He gave me homework, design some book covers. Book covers.....artists do just that? There's a market for just book cover art. It never occurred to me. What fun. Pick your favorites. You know that feeling when you're curled up with the perfect book. Get that feeling down.<br />
I heard, loosen up. Draw again. Get back to what you do well.<br />
<br />
I'll be honest. I'm squirming. I have feeling that I am not doing what I am supposed to be doing. Teaching 545 kids a week is taking its toll. My classes are longer, everything is more. I'm a better teacher when I'm not nervous that my 9 point lesson plans aren't/are correct. I love my students but it's finally my time. My time.<br />
So I'm writing and drawing and squeezing it in.<br />
<br />
Covers to come: (my favorites)<br />
House With The Clock In Its Walls<br />
To Kill a Mockingbird<br />
Ghost on Windy Hill<br />
Tuck Everlasting<br />
<br />
What a concept.....<br />
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P.S-I'm working on my website. You can see it at <a href="http://www.bethfullerart.com/">www.bethfullerart.com</a>. I'm enjoying Squarespace. It's easy and intuitive and NOT scary at all.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24326931.post-28187473130104388492015-09-01T14:16:00.000-04:002015-10-25T14:28:14.103-04:00Not the Summer I Thought It Would Be<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP0X_q23uV2GXX9aHHc2g6J58aonTWFuEwY440PLVdpHnsxjdXd25gGUzKu-VGcW7gbAnPGqw0yf9NNbvVcwIpPK9Ywk1xV4yXkwLfSaAichfTwf7kkQCA8K5_pQcwEHpvoVCf/s1600/wonder.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP0X_q23uV2GXX9aHHc2g6J58aonTWFuEwY440PLVdpHnsxjdXd25gGUzKu-VGcW7gbAnPGqw0yf9NNbvVcwIpPK9Ywk1xV4yXkwLfSaAichfTwf7kkQCA8K5_pQcwEHpvoVCf/s640/wonder.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">storefront in the Burg</td></tr>
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The title of this blog post is misleading.<br />
It's not that I had a bad summer. It's just not the summer I thought it would be. Does that make sense?<br />
I got a lot of stuff done. Not as much writing as I would have liked but more art. Like kids, they are pushing and poking for my attention sometimes the louder one gets the worm. This summer it was more about the illustration, it got the worm.<br />
Then there was the amazing JMU reunion last weekend. A reunion of the Freaks. Not sure if we called ourselves that or other students did. We were alternative before alternative was the norm. Purple hair? Doc Martens? Thrift store finds? All before it was cool. We made our own fun. Fun was music, expression, art, freedom, non-conforming, coffee shops before Starbucks, open mike night, poetry night, themed parties that were not Martha Stewart inspired, ink on our hands and a collective mind. Something that can not be duplicated outside the parentheses of the university setting....unless you're in a cult (I kid).<br />
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I get teary eyed when I watch the Mazda commercial about the boy with the red convertible and not just because I wanted a Mazda Miata something desperate when I was young. The line at the end "Now, in the garage something new. Taking you back to when you were you." Even though my college years (all 6 of them) were difficult at times. I never felt more myself. It reminds me of the conference I attended (see the only other post I wrote this summer), when exuberant writer Aaron Reynolds came in to talk with us, he smiled at his audience, "My kind of people!"<br />
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This year, I'm going to find more of my kind of people. They can be art people, writing people or just plain people people. There's nothing like talking about the things you love with others who understand that feeling, the feeling of waking up and wondering which little bird is going to be the loudest that day.....and gets the worm.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24326931.post-63910868773962100202015-07-19T08:55:00.000-04:002015-07-19T08:55:04.310-04:00Summer Garden<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDiFBMxVD5pP02uxl0rfD1z_SCqMgIGL0v2e451zw67Bj7fg1aXf7NaXfT8-_JzS0oaYCLTN1lwKtKzc6WeQSAhYUwYjhr8FmKKkQDdnXIhqOWZDSrVVOglKArLPAZxn_jnhyB/s1600/IMG_4810.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDiFBMxVD5pP02uxl0rfD1z_SCqMgIGL0v2e451zw67Bj7fg1aXf7NaXfT8-_JzS0oaYCLTN1lwKtKzc6WeQSAhYUwYjhr8FmKKkQDdnXIhqOWZDSrVVOglKArLPAZxn_jnhyB/s640/IMG_4810.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXNvpctPZAxhvH_rC4qeH3ybkuuRU4AwJF3X4yravN30n4o7bzdgoUVMowofD7gTCkn5iKFTJf1K0-Ysp0FefnE_eddNkV4p7q8JYsPLK-lUepl4_qtQpVK6SLzVTmxg6j95_2/s1600/IMG_4589.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXNvpctPZAxhvH_rC4qeH3ybkuuRU4AwJF3X4yravN30n4o7bzdgoUVMowofD7gTCkn5iKFTJf1K0-Ysp0FefnE_eddNkV4p7q8JYsPLK-lUepl4_qtQpVK6SLzVTmxg6j95_2/s640/IMG_4589.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUZAVvFSLIS7ZOj6wk64MTkxF8zt5M09yVC7t3wAe5rP3_1mTW8hqq2VaaQdGg1GwzcfcvPdoB4UdPpxSedSL8PY-OfPZFqbwNxAImRIrlXl3RJyDG6yWIFL4LdTFUW2Eo6mu5/s1600/IMG_4592.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUZAVvFSLIS7ZOj6wk64MTkxF8zt5M09yVC7t3wAe5rP3_1mTW8hqq2VaaQdGg1GwzcfcvPdoB4UdPpxSedSL8PY-OfPZFqbwNxAImRIrlXl3RJyDG6yWIFL4LdTFUW2Eo6mu5/s640/IMG_4592.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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My sister is moving. If we do the math this means I have zero sisters living close by. Yes, two hours away is not so bad. And my other sister is about 4 hours away. And now the two of them will be closer together. So lucky them. Big sister whining, me. But while I wallow, here are a few pics from the summer so far.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24326931.post-65918097350606941362015-07-03T20:45:00.000-04:002015-07-03T08:59:06.497-04:00Tall DrinkSometimes, something I have done years ago will catch my eye. Like this one. Tall Drink. It reminds me of colors I want to use in my illustration work. Also, the mix of paint, fabric and found media. Pulling this out of my archives.<br />
Fun stuff.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiPEF4-pQU5DyzqCcyUY7XPO_8O547pucFmHdR-0etetFJo_DZ9WHOqrn1qJ8hyphenhyphenm-uBI35HkDTjDrvLjvyplG-fCP_bBljmNauFVKb2uO-Z4bXRElr0D-sC0az1By8yJG3bOxQRA/s1600-h/postcardlegs.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" height="640" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5213758617771629074" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiPEF4-pQU5DyzqCcyUY7XPO_8O547pucFmHdR-0etetFJo_DZ9WHOqrn1qJ8hyphenhyphenm-uBI35HkDTjDrvLjvyplG-fCP_bBljmNauFVKb2uO-Z4bXRElr0D-sC0az1By8yJG3bOxQRA/s640/postcardlegs.jpg" style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt;" width="410" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24326931.post-71272066325988139262015-07-02T09:05:00.001-04:002015-07-03T08:53:34.307-04:00Evening Pictures<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGwvMWwZR-y_FTLxmXxMmOhAkdhiTreDQMLTJUkUal449GzezjtgJGylTHYaWqpH4ImfzyWwZgzu6uPhAXBfbrrUpewiLm82LtArOoClJB3xQzXswLycMZr6ARo754zYQ0j9AB/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGwvMWwZR-y_FTLxmXxMmOhAkdhiTreDQMLTJUkUal449GzezjtgJGylTHYaWqpH4ImfzyWwZgzu6uPhAXBfbrrUpewiLm82LtArOoClJB3xQzXswLycMZr6ARo754zYQ0j9AB/s640/FullSizeRender.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">new sketchbook-ahhhhhh</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ2j7WrYV-MKQpXXrKJR4VidlRLhSc_lRvL-qCWM39jEu57IvcynGHNx2JULP8iCxbTtbJgxWn4H9nS9CtJeUDOMHuJPFuEzSA3zwOVhUlmYDyX1GBVKA_DLA1RgY99AQLzHJZ/s1600/FullSizeRender%255B1%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ2j7WrYV-MKQpXXrKJR4VidlRLhSc_lRvL-qCWM39jEu57IvcynGHNx2JULP8iCxbTtbJgxWn4H9nS9CtJeUDOMHuJPFuEzSA3zwOVhUlmYDyX1GBVKA_DLA1RgY99AQLzHJZ/s640/FullSizeRender%255B1%255D.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">haven't looked at this piece in awhile-keeping it in my thoughts</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0WCHjOBUAeea0DasSS3WEwgmWbpaeNZk1achAFu4rGvl7LfAEJzqGwHmb8RrGftWn8cHx4VHXLRvy-RjYiFFDwZX4es8_q3tFKMJP6CE-FL2SoxD6b7w0ox6wfYL_LgJ5JAJ1/s1600/FullSizeRender%255B2%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0WCHjOBUAeea0DasSS3WEwgmWbpaeNZk1achAFu4rGvl7LfAEJzqGwHmb8RrGftWn8cHx4VHXLRvy-RjYiFFDwZX4es8_q3tFKMJP6CE-FL2SoxD6b7w0ox6wfYL_LgJ5JAJ1/s640/FullSizeRender%255B2%255D.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">love finding similar color</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWsYG4VrAQ-sRtS0FoVsVwr_-TyjsZX55u2aViG_gjE_IaRXqzvV8Tz0aVKQm8DM2ChgulArqHtjD_zcGUVecrkj7tvelSbdYp6sTyoSKfOJSA_P9002FhvZIl-bRU4yCzqkDF/s1600/FullSizeRender%255B3%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWsYG4VrAQ-sRtS0FoVsVwr_-TyjsZX55u2aViG_gjE_IaRXqzvV8Tz0aVKQm8DM2ChgulArqHtjD_zcGUVecrkj7tvelSbdYp6sTyoSKfOJSA_P9002FhvZIl-bRU4yCzqkDF/s640/FullSizeRender%255B3%255D.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">beautiful new book in my collection-love her color palette and line work<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">There's a Barnes and Noble in Hampton Roads that I stop by on my way back home from my sister's house.We don't have bookstores around here anymore. It's so sad not to be able to see these books in person, feel the paper between your fingers and flip through. It's inspiring. I love the evening light in my studio.So I picked up a few treasures. It was necessary right after the conference.I'm experimenting. I'm getting up early and writing. It's the summer to break habits (bad or not, just plain old habits). Okay, I think they are bad. Bad for creativity. Bad time management. This morning I already edited a few chapters and scribbled on a storyboard. Giddy Up!</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24326931.post-47989342935703900052015-06-28T08:14:00.001-04:002015-06-28T08:14:20.113-04:00Children's Literature Conference 2015<br />
Last week, I was the student, attending to the Children's Literature Conference at Shenandoah University.<br />
I needed the 3 graduate credits....ENG 502.<br />
I've taken ART 586, ART 607 and such but never a ENG 502. And I loved every minute of it.<br />
Better yet, I get to write creatively all summer and turn it in in August to complete my credits.<br />
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I sat and drew in my sketchbook, took, notes, like a kid in a candy store among book people. These are my people. Aside from artists and illustrators. But this conference I was the odd man out, only three art teachers at the conference, we found each other like homing pigeons find....home. I wasn't there to win a prize or to make a book deal like other conferences I have been to. I listened to Meg Medina, Peter Brown, Raul Colon, Phyllis Reynolds Naylor (I want to be as cool as her when I'm her age), Jennifer O'Connell (who was in the Art in Hands Deck with me!), Mac Barnett, Kwame Alexander and many more....<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4-GkhGCvxaZXzQeKubb2kcFniohAUklhdf4KmRod_8z97htNg5FYtepz_J4JV1JQb4us8-M-mfTqOOVqWn2khydg8y-CYawyVN-fh3W72XfC6uYpgA8Wt0lmUTbQEDEn5RNXz/s1600/11406688_10206849897423159_7253966147662978319_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4-GkhGCvxaZXzQeKubb2kcFniohAUklhdf4KmRod_8z97htNg5FYtepz_J4JV1JQb4us8-M-mfTqOOVqWn2khydg8y-CYawyVN-fh3W72XfC6uYpgA8Wt0lmUTbQEDEn5RNXz/s320/11406688_10206849897423159_7253966147662978319_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me, far left being the "cool" underpaid illustrator. <br />The amazing Aaron Reynolds explaining in pure storytelling fashion,<br />How books are made. By pure stroke of luck, I am the illustrator.<br />Anne my friend and fellow artist snapped the pic with her phone.</td></tr>
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<br />I drew and wrote and drew....<br /><br />
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And so begins Summer 2015. Can't think of a better way.<br />
<br />
Anne won this signed poster of Mac Barnett's latest book, Leo (Um yes, it's about a ghost, and yes, it will be on my bookshelf soon) and she gave it to me. I'll put it up to remind myself of the task at hand. Get to work! Get to Work!<br />
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Why yes, I can.</div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24326931.post-33773069143436453672015-06-20T09:20:00.004-04:002015-06-20T09:20:28.753-04:00It's That Time of Year<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Teacher present 2015 (not in frame yet).</td></tr>
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When I went back to university to get my art education endorsement it never occurred to me that I was entering a profession full of controversy. I'll admit. I was doe eyed. I'm going to teach art and see the wonder reflected off my students eyes every day. It will fill me up, reconnect me and I'll provide them with a safe place to explore, create and frankly, be themselves. This I have done. What I didn't realize was how much I would have to defend my job choice. Especially now that it's summer.<br />
<br />
I'm always a little melancholy at this time of year. My school year is over. What have I done? What did the kids do? Was it a good year? How can I improve? Pack up the room, take down everything, clean slate. Go home. Hear this,<br />
"Oh it's summer. You're so lucky. Must be nice."<br />
At first when I heard this, I thought:<br />
Yes, it is.<br />
Then:<br />
Yes, I deserve it.<br />
And then:<br />
Hey, I don't get paid for the summer.<br />
Next:<br />
I've got three kids, it's not like I'm sitting around eating bon bons.<br />
Then:<br />
Guilt (for some stupid reason).<br />
Then:<br />
I'm tired of defending this.<br />
<br />
What do people mean when they say this? I know what they mean. Man, must be nice, wish I had summers off. They aren't happy with their own job. Simple.<br />
Why do I take it so personally? Because, I'm me. And because I feel like I have to represent all teachers in saying, We work really hard in those nine months. We care about your kids (even the crazy ones), we don't make a lot of money so throw us a bone, ok, a little time off. Trust me, we are all better off for it.<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24326931.post-66332491320432590422015-06-03T17:30:00.005-04:002015-06-03T17:30:47.288-04:00QueueI'm getting tired of writing "it's been awhile".<br />
I'll be honest.<br />
I'm afraid of having a real online presence with 545 students to my name.<br />
Sometimes its simply overwhelming.<br />
I know them all now...every single one of them.<br />
And unlike other schools I've worked at.<br />
The parents are really involved here.<br />
Which makes me happy and also want to hide.<br />
My other side....the one that waxes and wanes and writes and draws and thinks.....<br />
not just about what kind of glue to order next.<br />
<br />
I've never wanted summer to come more quickly.<br />
I've got part 2 of a book that is kicking the inside of my head to be written, leftover from my prolific last summer.<br />
<br />
Husband, "I really wish you could make a living out of your talents."<br />
(Teaching is one of mine, the actual teaching and connecting part).<br />
<br />
Me too.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24326931.post-1191614391825077502014-11-07T15:38:00.000-05:002014-11-07T15:45:45.697-05:00Sick Days<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMqZ6Frfii4uYOwDIasHYPfI4sdhxCytn4Eraz1bZX4kg9cN4RJk4lnch9fm-y3m-pKRCfs7l_9-QKVD8oYa4jrOKkEqQ2viHw2PLycRJStw-LU4bTMkiOroyt-_JjzJFL6Qiz/s1600/IMG_2723.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMqZ6Frfii4uYOwDIasHYPfI4sdhxCytn4Eraz1bZX4kg9cN4RJk4lnch9fm-y3m-pKRCfs7l_9-QKVD8oYa4jrOKkEqQ2viHw2PLycRJStw-LU4bTMkiOroyt-_JjzJFL6Qiz/s1600/IMG_2723.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I do realize the middle is missing....it's always something.</td></tr>
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<br />
I've been sick for the past five days.<br />
First two days, some nasty Halloween candy chuck full of gluten spun me out. (P.S-Reece's Seasonal peanut butter cups, of course my favorites, are not gluten free, I repeat, not gluten free.)<br />
And then congestion moved in.<br />
I have not taken two sick days in a row, like ever. And I haven't had an actual sick day since having kids in many, many years. I laid on the couch, slept, ate soup, watched Wish I Were Here, oh so wonderful. And realized that during the school year, I am never ever home during the day. This time that I was home for for so many years, like the past eight (well at least two or three days a week I was home). I find myself envious of my neighbor across the street, leisurely walking her daughter in her stroller while her two older kids are in school and I say very loudly, "Oh must be nice." So snarky. So snarky.<br />
<br />
But I had that time at home and then when the opportunity (perfect one at that) presented itself, I needed to go back to work full time.<br />
These days, I realize that having a job is like the holy grail and having one like mine is hitting the lottery. It's just that it doesn't leave much room for my own creativity.<br />
<br />
Tired feet, tired body. It's not the same at 42 as when I first started at 28. Now with three kids too.<br />
Winter is easier for me. The boys play basketball and it's local, three miles down the road. My daughter and I kind of hibernate. When offered art classes, dance or something she might be interested in, she still chooses mom.<br />
<br />
I wrote about two thousand words today. Pushing my rock up the hill. I'm just past halfway. It's a good thing to do on a sick day, suped up on cold meds.<br />
The other day I was reading what I'd written so far and two things happened. One-I couldn't stop reading and two, I forgot that I had written it. I don't know but I think that's a good thing.<br />
I'm looking forward to that other side, the climax, the drop, the resolution. I've already started my second book (it just couldn't wait). Oh to have more time, and that folks is something I have small amounts of scattered about but gathered all up makes a hill mountable. So I'm going to make the most of it and while I am at it steer clear of the Christmas Tree Reece's cups. Darn.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24326931.post-55507609644206913822014-07-09T12:01:00.000-04:002014-07-09T12:01:38.192-04:00EOY<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimngyTfg8v2UOeSLLBwluWygsQe76QaRyVJtoFQEB8ovcF08OrOQnFw9fLerTH6ix0xLx4EWa__jpX44XztiuDuHNGezAXvYWfY1nEcMx6fHSy6Jj_JFYn8mRlHVEjJi_-1VGB/s1600/IMG_3300.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimngyTfg8v2UOeSLLBwluWygsQe76QaRyVJtoFQEB8ovcF08OrOQnFw9fLerTH6ix0xLx4EWa__jpX44XztiuDuHNGezAXvYWfY1nEcMx6fHSy6Jj_JFYn8mRlHVEjJi_-1VGB/s1600/IMG_3300.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">my main classroom all cleaned up</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">never will it be this organized again-at my 100 year old school</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie7L7WrnE0_ezBDUOtg5ZYNBE0dE0ktq43x1iT9-c0Hl4yJhG1AbvBj-lcbOWwaYLLrSkEK73hqYCivCNTCzkBa-ok6g4qdOWnXpQmRTXnhYSD3hR7qpDVJGqSVpn9-Kjedfvo/s1600/IMG_3261.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie7L7WrnE0_ezBDUOtg5ZYNBE0dE0ktq43x1iT9-c0Hl4yJhG1AbvBj-lcbOWwaYLLrSkEK73hqYCivCNTCzkBa-ok6g4qdOWnXpQmRTXnhYSD3hR7qpDVJGqSVpn9-Kjedfvo/s1600/IMG_3261.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">found this behind my smart board-hiding-love</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyDWq6Y2o6H3leqYI_sQ1eVEUEX3D5BR08lmipeiL4QTnx-9evH5Mk59z83E7d306MCU8Iv3WiFQJEXAtd3QzipU7X5bhlIDTvCn8tg12O_h0zyeS6tZ6Z_jmTfPmxvKX2oUHX/s1600/IMG_3297.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyDWq6Y2o6H3leqYI_sQ1eVEUEX3D5BR08lmipeiL4QTnx-9evH5Mk59z83E7d306MCU8Iv3WiFQJEXAtd3QzipU7X5bhlIDTvCn8tg12O_h0zyeS6tZ6Z_jmTfPmxvKX2oUHX/s1600/IMG_3297.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">summer reading</td></tr>
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So, I've been writing somewhere else, like I am cheating. The cool thing about writing something, "something" is all of the fun research that goes into it. Yes, I was that kid. The one who actually LIKED writing bibliographies, enjoyed searching through stacks, the thrill of finding THAT book that would have the answer. The internet revolutionized so much but for writers, so much right? It should make one prolific with such information at the click of a mouse. Of course, some of my research will be done on location-the most FUN. But watching movies, listening to music and creating art and Instagram acct. to go with the story has been really well, cool.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24326931.post-33283432815051237452014-04-22T10:05:00.004-04:002014-04-22T10:07:01.135-04:00Unexpected Day Off<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(yes, I know winter is over but this was a fun winter, I've got to say)</td></tr>
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So, popping in here. My son is home sick and so I am off today. Thought, oh yeah, I've got this blog I've neglected.....<br />
<br />
So, figuring out how to work media into my watercolor/drawings.<br />
Figured out that the Black Prismacolor colored pencil is the best for sketching.<br />
That I LOVE TO DRAW so the drawing part is central.<br />
Watercolor looks great with scribbling....drawing etc.<br />
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There's more under way. But I am pleased with my "figuring out".<br />
The way, I like to illustrate is simple. I think picture books are great but honestly sometimes I think the really complex, fine art books are too much for kids. I love them but kids are more drawn (pun intended) to art that looks like something they could do. That's exactly what I loved about Sendak and others who had strong drawing skills. I thought, as a kids, hey, I could do this too. And isn't that what it's all about.<br />
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Teaching has been fun. My kids are 99.9% fantastic. I get to spend my time actually teaching now and I am thrilled. Every once in awhile we have a little behavior issue but it's basically like I've been given the nicest, sweetest kids ever. I am blessed.<br />
(still looking forward to summer though:)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0