The home stretch

It's the time of year when people start counting days. Thirty-two teaching days. Fifty-one Singapore days. Two public holidays. My Gus is counting fingers to ensure that he's ready when that fourth birthday rolls around. (352 days)

As the end of year approaches and the tidying up begins, our school is taking pictures of teachers for READ posters. My former poster was immortalized by clever L, who toted me on holiday (I wish I could have seen customs' faces when opening her suitcase), to evening bookclubs, and all the way to Starbucks for a post-run latte:

Flat Becky had herself a time. While those Flat Becky pics rank pretty high in the super-nice-things-friends-have-done-for-me files, I detested that poster of me looking wistful and all Manifest Destiny about poetry. This year, I held up a beloved coloring book and got to design my own background. I altered a former doodle from Gus's first birthday:

My sister was kind enough to point out that the title says "Read", and I'm a literature teacher holding a wordless coloring book. 

Ha ha ha.

Never you mind. That happy Coloring Book Becky is gleefully counting down days until she and Flat Becky converge in Ithaca for two nights with their L: 66. We've many missed lattes and long run-talks to make up for.

And at the same time, I'm dreading the June day until I have to say "see you later" to true rocks in my Singapore life---dear G and K. I scribble at night things that make me think on them, and they are piecing together into a wee goodbye gift:

Thankfully, they remain on the same continent and reliant on Nespresso pods. I have volunteered to be their mule, and there will be rendezvous.

I can't wait to get it on the calendar!

Why we continue the conversation

I get giddy when design, digital connections, science, and art intersect. Add NPR to that mix, and I'm a sloppy fool. So, when Radiolab ran a story that led to this blog post that led to this art, I had to share it with all my students and all my teaching buddies and annoy over 70 people.

But the connections are REAL and the world is SMALL and art and writing matters. I want those folks to see that. Case in point: The husband and I spent our two years in Prague packing this book around to pubs and also reading the author's occasional writings on blogs and in the English language newspapers. On Goodreads.com recently, P posted a review. And last week the author wrote to P, thanked him for the review, and sent an advance copy of his next book for P to look over. Wowsers!

Lastly, to keep the conversations going and link lives, a gaggle of colleagues and I are ending our year with an eight week sketchbook swap. So proud of these brave sketchers.

Buck up you big baby!

This week I juiced for five days, wallowed in caffeine withdrawal-misery, and fantasized about the life of full time writers and artists. I watched this video by writer/illustrator Oliver Jeffers (Totally delightful. Take the three minutes. And buy the moose book.). I worried about North Korea. I sighed a whole bunch. 

In those self-pitying moments of discontent I often find myself quickly and fiercely humbled. And I was. I read The Artist in the Office, and these quotes said, "Grow up, you big-dumb-time-wasting baby."

"For six months, ignore the engine of worry and get to work...do what you can for fifteen minutes." (Summer Pierre)

"Procrastination is not downtime. Procrastination takes a lot of energy and leads to guilt and critical self talk." (Summer Pierre)

"Fantasizing about pursuing our art full-time, we fail to pursue it part-time----or at all." (Julia Cameron)

"If you can't do your art--even a little--in the life you have now, with the person you are right this second, YOU MAY NEVER DO IT." (Summer Pierre)

I also managed to squeeze into those five days of self-centeredness some seriously mis-guided motherhood decisions. New mothers out there, take note: TAKE THE DAY OFF TO GO TO YOUR SON'S SCHOOL BIRTHDAY PARTY. YOU'LL WANT TO SMOTHER YOURSELF LOOKING AT THE PHOTOS OF YOU NOT BEING THERE.

All that stinkin' thinkin' put aside, I feel better. I'm now using my fifteen minutes, and they've led to some finished products. Here's a sneak peek at a commissioned piece:

I like the stained-glassy look that came out of this.

I also decorated some cupcakes for a pretty fabulous little dude. I hope they softened the sting of those bonehead moves I made earlier this week. New mothers, also take note: BY THREE THEY KNOW WHAT DAY THEIR BIRTHDAY IS. YOU CAN'T PRETEND THEIR BIRTHDAY IS SATURDAY OR THEY WILL THINK YOU FORGOT IT. SUCK IT UP AND CELEBRATE ON TWO DAYS.

It's humble-cupcakes and fifteen minutes a day. And I think that will turn out a lot better than five days of pathetic wallowing on a liquid diet.