Friday, December 25, 2009
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
I ran out of fur for his hood and his forehead was huge so I gave him a fringe. Then his chin looked funny, so I turned his tail into a beard. (You know I like beards). But still, he just manages to look a bit shady, with his interlocked fingers and sideways glance. A suspicious character.
In other news, I have drawn a winner of the crochet and embroidery books (I remembered!) Thanks to everyone who entered, your Silly Chicken stories made me giggle and feel much better! *drum roll* and the lucky Chicken is mammajoy! Yay!!
Sunday, December 20, 2009
and bookmarks from old books. Then I included them in some
What kind of a cat is allergic to fish? It's absurd. Like a dog allergic to bones. Then the vet told me that the other possible diagnosis is cancer. So suddenly I'm okay about the fish allergy thing.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Saturday, December 12, 2009
My Front Door. A big red door. Blackboard with quotes, bookcase full of Agatha Christie and Frankie magazines, a bowl of keys and coins and a Kermit I found last week.
Wherever I Hang My Hat. Wherever I move, as soon as I hang up my cloud where I can see it from my bed, I feel like I'm home.
Nice, Different, Unusual. Many friends who visit our house comment on our ginormous bathroom sink. It doubles as the laundry sink, and it's huge. Everyone else's sinks now seem really puny!
A letter to myself
Hey you. You look nice today. Yes, even in your pajamas, sipping tea with your hair all mussed up and a slight headache. I know you’ve had a rough time lately. This year hasn’t been easy but it will get better. I know it’s hard to hear it from me, that some part of you doesn’t believe it, but I know that if you were my dear friend this is what I would tell you. You are beautiful. You are loved and you are stronger than you think.
A letter to my anxiety disorder
You’re a bit of a pain, aren’t you. Well it’s good to finally meet you, though I’ve known you for a while. Now I know who you are, I can recognise you. You have taken me away from my friends, away from life and so many exciting things in the world. You see you take a process that is really handy in response to, say, a ravenous lion; or a piano falling from a skyscraper above you; and apply to not-so-handy situations. Like getting on a bus, sitting in a restaurant or lining up at the bank. I am grateful to my body for having these responses like releasing adrenaline and making my heart beat fast so my muscles can carry me away from danger and maybe save my life. But you have to stop tricking my body into thinking that supermarkets are dangerous places. They’re really not. I don’t like being so scared and feeling like I may throw up or faint, and making excuses why I can’t do things and it’s starting to make me mad. I don't like that you've invited depression in to keep you company. So don’t get comfortable, generalized anxiety disorder. I have friends who have friends. I have backup. And your time is limited.
A letter to you
Hello. I like your shoes. Would you like some of my cookie? It’s choc chip, and I’m getting crumbs in the keyboard. I just wanted to let you know that I am a better person because of you. Thank you. You, reading this, makes me more open and able to share my thoughts and encourages a creativity that sometimes surprises me. You make me see the world in new ways. Your comments make my day. Your stories make me smile. Your empathy in bleak days and joy in happy times makes me wonder at humanity. You inspire me. Thank you.
A letter to tea
I like you very much. You are warm and comforting and oh-so-tasty. You make hangovers more bearable, sundays more lazy, you wake me up in the mornings, and give me a reason to get up and have nice little breaks that makes my work much nicer. You are an excuse to buy pretty mugs, and sit on the front step to watch the street at dusk. Keep being awesome.