Working through the last of Prague

There is more being doodled:

There are boxes being packed and refrigerators emptied. Dinners are lentil-heavy and lunches feature a lot of almond butter and brown rice cakes in the name of empyting the pantry. But this fiber is good (anyone need dried beans? come on by) because a recent goodbye-pub-crawl featured two kinds of outrageously stinky cheese, fried eggs on deep-fried toast, pickled camembert, steak tartare, and beef tongue. I really hope our cholesterol levels can hold on until our flight. 

I can't believe it!

If you visit me, here is what might happen: You will be jet-lagged and dehydrated. You will just want to rest and email and stare out the window at your new surroundings. But I will trap you in my living room and do a show and tell of all the odds and ends of fabric I've been saving. There will be a mountain at your feet: "This here is a tablecloth with a burn mark in it..." "This smelly thing we got at a market in a village somewhere, and we've never been able to get the stink out..." "This fragment that's disintegrating was a table runner that I really liked..." "You can't wash this due to the indigo, but man I love it..." I will heap piles at your feet. And then I will tell you, "And I'd like you to make me functional, washable, pocketed-skirts out of all of this nonsense. So instead of buying souvenirs, please fill your luggage with my garbage and mail it back to me later as something I can wear to work."

And if you are my kind and forgiving and gracious and wickedly talented sister, you will DO IT. 

She did it! I can't believe she didn't throw the pile back in my face. I can't believe she went to any effort at all. That amazing sister of mine made a wonder out of a piece of batik junk I bargained for in some back alley in Asia. And man, it's awesome. 

Last weeks thought salad

It's list city around here. (Which makes me pause and think on Loretta Lynn's "Fist City." It is thankfully, NOT Fist City) It's goodbye parties and last beergardens and why-is-it-three-degrees-in-May. Things are both ridiculously organized and tragically dicombobulated. Gus is a mess. We're all waking before alarms because we're too tired to keep sleeping. Do you know that waking? It only happens when things are on the edge. 

But, despite messy toddlers and loose ends and a fine balance of too-social and too-serious, we are getting things done. There is a lot of tossing and sorting and throwing away. As we do that, we're mindful of what to save. And it comes down to the people. And such people there are. I've made quick tributes this week to a gaggle of folks that really deserve a lot of hugging and that we truly hope will plan vacations in Southeast Asia:

There are so many good people here. I think on them as I clean lampshades and pack breakables and woo Gus from his tantrums. As messy as we are right now, we're leaving Prague so much richer in spirit---and it's all because of the folks that were quick to love us. 

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And with one foot in Prague and one foot in Singapore, I also play a little continental Twister and land a hand on the US. There are commissions to deliver during our short time there, and this one is for a sweet baby M:

More in my life

Prints are back from my uber-helpful print shop, and I'm playing with former images. I added black ink drawings to DRops' photo. It's on its way to you soon, D and T!

Today's theme

Things have seemed a bit gray. Not bad. Not glorious. Gus and I had a few too many nights of collective coughs. We went to IKEA (yechh). Our accomplishments of late are boring: criminal record checks, shipping insurance forms, and short-term medical insurance. And yesterday at 11:00am, the bank said the money hadn't arrived yet and I should come back tomorrow. It was reminiscent of when we stopped by Burger King on a student field trip while living in Singapore and they said, "Oh, sorry--we don't have any burgers." 

But today, after the wonder of a good-night's-rest (thank you Husband of the Year), Gus and I woke up to sun and color and choosing-joy. Some folks even decided to dress like it: 

Keeping with the theme, I started my next sketchbook project. This book's theme is "The little things in life".

There are lots of little things looking good today. The lilacs are blooming, Neighbor B made homemade peanut butter cups, I may or may not have ordered this Waylon Jennings necklace, and there's a painting project underway:

To add to the synchronicity, a friend sent a link to a bucket list for kids under twelve, and it's inspired me to think on our family bucket list. That's good fodder for dinner time conversation in a household of seasoned list-makers.

And finally, as I putter in my office and with my paints and listen to my podcasts on this happy-shiny Tuesday, I savor a BIG thing, which is my dear Father's (slightly belated) birthday. Happy Birthday, Dad!

(it seems rubber boots are a theme as well)

Roar!

March went out roaring. There was so much to do and clean. But it was all for very very good reasons:

A miniature raspberry pie was baked. From scratch.

And then put inside a cake to become the trendy and surprisingly tasty (but still sort of embarrassing) piecaken. A birthday girl was happy.

And there was a last minute weekend to Poland where I may or may not have purchased Polish pottery for my son (What does this mean? What would Werner Herzog say? Have I crossed the line of rational pottery thinking?).

Someone awfully special went from baby to boy and had to celebrate his birthday at school since his parents are too ridiculous (lazy? wise? terrified-of-other-toddlers?) to throw him a proper party.

Amazing folks flew all the way from the US to play legos and give thoughtful presents and take long, windy, cold walks through Praha. We are missing them already.

And, as we wait (change sheets, wash towels, bake gluten-free muffins, etc etc etc) for the second round of guests to arrive this weekend (yay Meehans!), we're thankful for this recent purchase. Yup. We gave into the Man. But--we got it third-hand, so it doesn't upset me as much as it should. That and the espresso it makes is absolutely delicious.

There's no time for art with all this goodness, but we're making memories!

 

Birthdays in Twos

I don't know how it happened, but that kid turned two. WE DID IT. We kept him going another year and he seems to actually still like us a little bit. We know this because he's pretty keen on labeling likes and dislikes right now as he tries his hand at excelling at all things toddler. Our outside doorbell? Dislike. Uncle Bob? Like. Mom's dancing moves? Dislike. Licking the slide at the playground? Like. Hugging, cuddling, and sharing? Dislike. Throwing, stomping, and wrestling? Like.

Gus enters his second year on his third continent, with eight roundtrip flights under his belt, and a big move in his future. He's a hearty dude that knows his alphabet (minus I and N), Glen Campbell songs, and all of the very best hiding spots for all of our very important items. He ensures our home is filled with laugher, humility, and completely amazing bodily function stories. Man, we love him. 

Happy Birthday sweet, hilarious, and fascinating OGG. You keep us striving to be better and longing for sleep. We cannot wait to see where this year takes us; we are soooooo grateful you're on our journey.

Gus's birthday art is a bit of a multi-purpose piece. Today is also amazing Aunt Shelly's birthday--Gus's secret twin. A few years ago that wise lady made this verse matter all the more to me. And so we tip our pen and hearts to her as we drop a print of this in the mail. Happy Day to you dear Shelly: May your year be rich in laughter, peace, and purpose and may all the stray cats and dogs in your neighborhood cease to make noise.