adventures

of aplantfancier

Tag: artist

  • 10 reasons why no one’s reading your blog

    I’ve been continuing today in sorting through old paintings, and doing some writing in a pretty new A5 binder I started last week. It’s faux camel suede, with nice KOKUYO loose leaf paper inside, the same setup I’m using for my languishing novel.

    The blog needed its own space for notes and ideas and little chunks of prose. And of course I’m indexing it because I’m a freak for organization. Does anyone else write every other page in their binders upside down or is that just me? If you know you know.

    Or maybe it really is just me, because so far it’s not really working out.

    Come along now while I put some paint to paper, and have a few cups of tea in the furnace workshop. But first stare into that radioactive sky a while. Doesn’t that cloud look like Alaska?

    ENTER

  • broth in progress

    Wouldn’t you say Thanksgiving Two is better than Thanksgiving One? I still spend all day in the kitchen, but mostly just making lovely stock and reading soup recipes and daydreaming.

    This week my entire housekeeping list has been supplanted by Thanksgiving tasks. Procure roasting pan. Bike to grocery store. And just in the nick of time, too, the snow came the next night. There was also a sock related side quest which expanded to include mall bao and a quick check of all the Barnes & Noble promo tables. Just the essentials.

    ENTER

  • how I passed the morning

    I’m down in the furnace workshop again, forming a fragile alliance with this tall wooden barstool, through something I’m thinking of as yoga as I’m doing it, but now that I’m writing about it I realize is just stretching. I think the key is never to sit on it. I’ve just gone from a physically demanding job to a more officey job, helping fill orders for a small business, and instead of my body hurting less it just hurts the same amount but in new ways. And so, my workshop’s standing-height bench with round wood stool, already torturous to sit on for any amount of time, has become untenable. These are things I can’t possibly have thought about this much when I was younger.

    ENTER