A door opened this week

Gus and I have been walking Stromovka as often as we can. The ice is creeping across the lake and the ducks are huddling in the corners; frosty mornings are now the norm. We have to savor these mornings of silvered trees because they will soon end. Winter will of course linger until May, but after that it could be quite a stretch of hot, welcome years.

Yesterday, P and I accepted jobs back in Singapore. I haven't found my footing yet as to how to explain this to people. There is no short answer. We like it here. We could love it here. I'd return to Prague. There's of course the hassle of snowsuits and cold hands and lost mittens and gray days. But that's not reason to go. And that's what I try to explain to people---there's not reason to leave except that Singapore offers us something that not many other places can in the toddler years of our lives. It offers us festivals and colors and diversity. It offers us monkeys and jungle walks and 365 days a year where we can go outside (granted, often in suffocating heat). It offers us Cambodia and service and travel to places to see things that Gus isn't old enough yet to complain about. I think I better take advantage of the fact that he's too young to gripe about the tuk-tuks and the holidays to places where all we do is wander and not a tv screen is to be found. And then there are the professional gains. And the hope of medical gains. BUT. There is the loss of Prague, and that is a large loss. We chose Europe not as parents and moved here as new ones. We had no idea how parenting would impact where we wanted to work and live (I know. I know. We're the dumbest people on the planet. Believe me. I KNOW.) When Gus is old enough to let me finish my coffee in a cafe or bike beside me on a river path, I'd really like to return. He and I will rip up the trails and sample every offering in the pastry shops. I can't wait.

In the meantime, we'll savor Stromovka and snowfalls and holiday markets and hot candied almonds. We'll get cocoa at every farmer's market and laugh our way through layering up to head outside. 

------------------------

This month's sketchbook entry had to be hurried-up since G and I are off to visit the beloved grandparents soon and won't be at the drawing table. The theme of this book was "colors" and I was given black. I sketched up some nocturnal animals hidden behind inked doors. Doors seemed appropriate in this season of Advent. Man, I really love things with doors.

November is ending well

We had a lovely post-Thanksgiving weekend. I baked my first turkey, which we enjoyed with the truly wonderful Rops clan. There were Christmas markets and sunny mornings and gluhwein and chocolate bars and singalongs. Everyone was tolerant of both Gus's runny nose and his hollering. It was good.

Perhaps because of the tryptophan, the good company, Starbucks Christmas espresso blend, the German beers, or the new (and simply glorious) pottery Advent wreath P bought me at the Dejvicka market, this morning we entered the week of Decisions with lighter hearts, which I am also enjoying. 

In the afternoon, I made the Colophon Cafe's African peanut soup with our leftover turkey, which turned out to be a splendid move. It was totally unthanksgiving-dinner-like, and it used up a lot of the bird.

And tonight, I'm packaging cards to sell. 

 

Repeating themes

I'm working on a project at which I'm not very good. It requires repeating patterns and Adobe Illustrator work that this brain just doesn't yet know how to navigate. (and isn't quite convinced it wants to learn)

This workshop showed up in my Google Reader last night just minutes after the email arrived requesting these repetitive designs. Julia Cameron would shout "synchronicity!" and ask why I haven't already enrolled. 

Selling and sketching

If you're going to attempt holiday sales, you should probably get to know my friend K. She took what was a dreadfully boring table and made it look fab:

And then she stayed all day and never ate a single piece of chocolate. I'm not sure what was wrong with her, but she saved my sanity and kept me from shooing away the customers. In the end, she wouldn't even let me give her freebies. What a gal!

I'm not making any more designs for a short bit. Pillarbox has taken my leftovers and now I need to focus on the holiday gifting and a project with Tiny Tales. To tidy up loose ends, I finished sketchbook project #3 today. We're still waiting on Big Decisions and I'm coping with being-very-bad-at-waiting by re-reading Mary Oliver and Jane Kenyon and doodling the best of where we may land.

Happy Birthday, Mama

I'm hoping this card has made its way to my one-year-older mother's mailbox. I wish I was there to take that beloved lady to a high tea or talk her into a pedicure. She's a creative gal that likes yellow and things that are handmade, and so I'm hoping she enjoys her birthday greeting. Happy Birthday, mom. You are missed and loved.

A little of me and a little of letterpress

Two nifty women had birthdays last month:

Belated cards are on their ways. 

In the meantime, drool-worthy letterpress: Morris + Essex.

Unexpected fun

Something happened this week that was more fun than expected. I haven't ever taken on a card commission. I haven't wanted to. I've done more formal drawings and random art pieces, but since someone I really dig asked, and I was already in card-making-mode, and she only wanted a border for a photo card, I took it on. And it was a really lovely experience. It helps that the kind woman ordering up the card was a gem in all regards, but it did get me thinking. There might be a way for me to do this and not pull my hair out and offer affordable cards to folks featuring designs that don't make me feel like a sellout....pondering. Pondering. Pondering. 

The front...

The inside (minus names)...

My people

Today, I present the stunning November/December Stone Soup cover:

The cover artist is my niece, Z. Talented Z and her talented mother are generous about sharing what they are working on and allowing peeks into their creative worlds. As the holidays grow nearer, I'm really missing these women and the other good folks in my circle. I'm so grateful to have family members that keep me learning and thinking. There are good peeps in this kooky clan.

Pillarbox

I enjoyed the first day of November with a morning stroll in downtown Prague (alone!), dropping off cards at a new shop in Vinohrady. Pillarbox is not only kind enough to carry my wares, but it is also carrying other fabulous cards, toys, and giftwrap. The owner has created a very expat friendly store with lovely gifts and stationery from the UK and Czech Republic. She's only five minutes from the Muzeum metro stop---pop in!

This much pottery is completely normal

Despite a second trip to Poland in less than two months, I do not think the pottery collecting is becoming a problem.

I do think that this may be a problem, though. This boy is refusing a Halloween costume but embracing orange. And he looks like trouble.

His shirt and bandanna are nothing compared to the Polish fall leaves. I've not been to New England in October, but I wonder if Poland rivals it. My jaw dropped around every corner. 

Waves Revisited

Just months after P and I were first married I was inspired by a wood cut I saw at the Tokyo airport (there is inspiration to be found at Narita, I guess. And good sushi. There is also the best jacket I ever owned somewhere in their lost and found. Sigh). I doodled a tiny (it's only about 1 X 3) sketch of which we are both awfully fond:

Today I was sick, and the sweetest husband in the world stayed home to care for O, so I could sleep and recuperate. When I felt well enough to sit at my desk I wasn't interested in the detail work I've been doing for cards, and I got messy with my pens and finished my second sketchbook project entry. It's for NIkki's book, and the theme was "words." 

I don't usually like to work big or sloppy, but this felt nice. Especially today when heads are cloudy and everything feels all swirly in there.

Today's wall art

Happy to have been and happy to be back

We are back from lands of chocolate, cheese, hiking trails, and really great people. A weeklong road trip to Munich and Zurich proved to be exactly what this family needed to gain a little clarity and lose a little Euro (Take note travellers, it's not just Switzerland that requires a toll sticker. The Austrian fine is hefty!).

(fondue--followed by chocolate--with the lovely Rops)

Gus was a champ, sleeping like he'd never slept before and recovering from bronchitis in unfamiliar places. He mooed at Swiss cows and marveled at German forests. Our hosts were all amazing and our weight gains evident. What a great trip.

And now we're back and sorting out some big decisions with lighter hearts and darker German beers. Life is good in Prague. Fall has settled in with freezing temperatures, and homemade soup was on last night's menu. This is a season to savor.

I got a little gutsy and posted some designs to sell, but it's mostly to avoid over or under printing. I'm still not comfortable with seeing doodles in print, but maybe this will all work out. We'll see. In the meantime, I've got a sketchbook project this week and three amazing birthdays to celebrate (Steelie Dan, Bekah, and Annika--Woop woop!). With only six weeks left in the CZ before Oscar and I take full advantage of all the love Grandma and Grampa have to offer, we're living it up!

 

Thursday's productivity

Three sketches on their way to square cards (rough rough rough lettering):

Three cards are getting ready

Cooking up goods for the holidays:

Indian Summer

Despite a forecast of 75 degree weather for Monday, it feels like fall could descend at any time. And once it comes--it's frost and down jackets until April. So, Gus and I are quickly making the most of the farmer's market tomatoes. They are unreal.

(His pants, shirt, and face are filthy...not to mention the lost sock...and yet he couldn't get over the drip on the counter.)

There are cookies baked for a Sunday brunch. We've also got pumpkin roasting and black beans simmering for enchiladas that we'll take to a pumpkin-themed dinner party. It's a busy kitchen today.

September is ending with really enjoyable hustle and bustle: A post-mushroom-hunting feast (thanks, generous K family). A long bike ride with sock-tossing Gus. Impromptu dinners with neighbors. Birthday parties. Dreaming and scheming. And non-stop sunshine. 

Oh---sweet P posted my sketch to the ISP Sketchers website. People are doing good things. So happy to be sharing in that circle of art.

Onwards to October!

Thinking on the holidays

I am contemplating holiday fairs. And playing with images of Prague. This one needs tweaking and redrawing, but I'm hoping folks can guess (somewhat) where this is:

It's tough to color when the sky is blue and the sun is warming things up to the 70s. The bicycles call to us...

About One Green Bee

One Green Bee is a tiny, half-baked illustration company that has fits and starts of productivity. We've found ourselves working in both Singapore and Prague, but most of our artistic satisfaction comes from crafting art for friends and family. Occasionally we get a burst of energy and take on art commissions or publish greeting cards and Advent calendars for retail sale. My drawings are often inspired by the textiles, architecture, and folk art from my travels. There's no formal training shaping these scratches; there's simply a belief in finding joy and sacredness in the ordinary.

I welcome your inquiries and am happy to discuss commissioned pieces, children's book illustration, and licensing opportunities. This website and our vision are a work in progress. You can reach me at onegreenbee@gmail.com. 

Thanks for stopping by,

Becky

onegreenbee@gmail.com

 

Of Course

It has been a long time since I've invested time in doodling for fun. And we all know what came of it, right? Inspiration and joy and a million ideas for future projects and new learnings and yada yada yada. Why. Am. I. So. Dense.

And--what also came of it was my contribution to P's work sketchbook project:

 

Humble Praha pie

We returned this weekend from an adventure in the mountains with Patrick's colleagues.

A good time was had by all.

Shortly after our return, I had a (get ready for hyperbole) bad Billa moment that I blew into a bad Prague moment that I made into a I-don't-want-to-be-here-anymore moment. Most expats I've met have some sort of traumatic grocery store abroad story (P has a fabulous one about cherry juice). While I find grocery stores in foreign countries to be one of the greatest delights while traveling, I find them to be one of the greatest challenges in a place where I'm actually living. When you depend on the items and the aisles and the cashiers on a daily basis, the grocery store becomes a microcosm for all that is unfamilar.

So. Gus and I set out for post-weekend-away-provisions. We started at the Italian bistro and ordered a pizza. No trauma. Then we entered Billa. Billa is always fraught with strangeness: The weighing of the produce, the frenetic pace at while everyone shops, the narrow aisles, the four thousand kinds of sauerkraut. Added to this foreign-to-me mix is Gus's love of bare feet. The dude just wants to see his toes. Last week, in 50 degree weather, he ripped off his shoes and socks in the stroller and gleefully shouted to tongue-clucking passerbys, "Cold toes! Cold toes!" He cannot be coerced into wearing footwear. Unlucky for us, this is a keep-your-coat-and-wool-socks-on kind of town. So of course, in Billa, he liberated his feet and the comments began. I ignored well, only minorly irritated, until one woman became loud and aggressive. She pointed. She smacked my shoulder. She yelled at those around us and rallied what I interpreted as ire. When I finally listened, I found that she was not yelling the word for shoe, but that she was yelling "ucet"---The word for receipt. She wasn't mad. She was worried. And sure enough, she had cause for alarm as a tiny scrap of paper was sticking out of Gus's mouth. He had devoured the entire pizza check and grinned ala Cheshire cat. 

I was humbled, sweaty, and flustered. And as I dodged one of the speedy shoppers through my embarrassment, Gus simutaneously bucked, and a bottle of beer flew out of the basket onto said shopper's feet. Glass and beer covered his pants and shoes (thank goodness he kept his on) and everything else nearby.

The poor ale-soaked man I'd assaulted took a deep breath, raised an angry finger, and let loose. Security rushed over to assist in the shouting. And so, I responded to the hollers of the duo and the stares of the growing crowd in the only language I knew: I sobbed (sheesh). At the sight of tears, all reeled back. I guess folks don't cry in Billa. Their English was far better than my Czech: "No problem. Go home. No problem. Go home." 

I now had the pizza to tackle. This is a rule-following kind of town. I wasn't going to get my pizza without my ucet. I had one saliva soaked scrap that had half the bistro name on it. When I presented the pathetic piece, the waiter's eyeroll was all I needed to start sobbing again. He responded in similar alarm and shooed me out with my pizza box. 

After an evening of self-pity, I woke determined to stop the negative internal rumble (mutter mutter grizzle grizzle swear word swear word). The antidote to not liking Prague is to see Prague, and so we enjoyed a four mile walk to Gus's best pal S's house. Our jaunt took us past the castle and across the Charles Bridge through Old Town. 

It didn't make me click my heels, but it did make me stop the stinking thinking (despite an initial fifteen minutes of ranting about the secondhand smoke, lethal cobblestones, and public urination). And after two cups of coffee, watching sweet S hug little G and the two of them serve each other imaginary tea, my smile was sincere. We have good sights to see and good friends to visit. In shoes or not, we are okay. We are blessed. We have much for which to be thankful.

But, we may avoid Billa.

Transition as pathetic as my self-pity:

I have inked in my sketch for P's faculty Sketchbook project (I don't know if I'm allowed to share the website yet). Every three weeks our books get traded. So exciting. Felt really good to doodle for my own sake. I haven't done that in a long time.

Getting in focus

Work days are not going so well. Take Thursday:

Dropped off Gus at school. Lingered too long. Was asked to leave.

Ran home savoring a crisp morning without sixty pounds of toddler and stroller to push. Ahhhh.

Made coffee.

Sat down to work.

Decided to organize something.

Sat down to work.

Worried about Gus. Was he being bullied? Did they put his coat on him when he went to the sandbox? Was he eating paint? Did that kid that looked kind of sick touch him?

Cleaned something that did not need to be cleaned.

Sat down to work.

Texted Gus's teacher to remind her that his water was in his backpack. Worried about whether or not she got the text. Wondered how long he could go before dehydration set in.

Made a snack I did not need.

Sat down to work.

Refreshed podcasts. Folded laundry.

Sat down to work. Actually got absorbed in my project only to discover I had twelve minutes left before I had to pick up Gus.

Thankfully, G did not eat paint, get bullied, nor appear to catch a cold (Not wishing to participate in story time, he DID get his backpack and shoes and attempt to make a break for it, but they distracted him with Cheerios. A lot of literacy concerns in this house, now.). Also thankfully, those twelve minutes start to add up:

Momentum

Plannin' and rollin' and chuggin':

Rewrote last year's Christmas card with the correct spelling (gnashing of teeth) just in case we get our act together for holiday sales:

Submitted a few more sketches for Memory Cards:

Felt jealous of this wall paper.

Marveled at my friend bSmiley's new Etsy shop. That witty (and uber-talented) girl finds ways to weave The Dude into her toddler clothing write-ups. She's a wonder. 

Packed the suitcase for this weekend's getaway in Harrachov with P's company. Finshed Stacy Schiff's Cleopatra. Rented a car for an October road trip. Bought plane tickets. Tackled Gus's first fall fever. Hosted a potluck. And, perhaps the most noteworthy of all (but only thanks to Neighbor B's relentless patience and tolerance and overall jaw-dropping kindness), surivived a morning trip to (more gnashing of teeth) IKEA with G.

Whew.

September's Rhythms

Oy. Oy. Oy. 

Time has never passed so slowly at the drawing table. Little Gus was off on his first solo day at skola, and I had a couple blissful hours to myself in a quiet house to work on a submission. And oy. I missed that dude so much. All I could do was check the time and wonder whether he ate his snack or played nice or hydrated or met nice people or left the bunny alone or cleaned up after himself. 

And of course, when I picked him up he smelled of Czech soup and had happy stories to relay. The rabbit looked okay too.

He came home to healthy treats:

Next time, I will try the chocolate energy bars from nomeatathlete. These chick pea ones are bland. It's hard not to write that and laugh at the obvious.

 
But, I will repeat the oatmeal cookies from Whole Grain Gourmet. And when I do that, I will measure the cinnamon rather than dump it in from the jar. 

Spicy seems appropriate for the start of September, though. The chalkboard is redrawn and there's a pumpkin-cheddar tart in the fridge.

And not just the chalkboard is getting decorated. September's Skola for Gus means artistic routine for me. In these slow minutes I'm working on drawings for the house, art for clients, sketches for gifts, and pieces for prospective licensers. These little doodles are ideas for Memory Cards. We'll see what folks think of them.

 

Pottery Purchased

Our table is heavy with pottery and my belly is full of Polish cuisine. It was a successful 24 hours in Boleslawiec. Lovely drive, lovely ladies, and lovely wares.

 The Blue Beetroot bed and breakfast lived up to its reputation. A winner.

The traveling companions were winners as well. And not afraid of a pierogi or two or six. 

 

Hmm. 

The pieces I'm keeping. No peeking at the gifts.

Of course, a little something for the Good Husband who skipped a hop festival to spend the weekend with Gus. WHAT a guy.