Finally finished the second mixed media practice painting I've been working on. Have to say I'm not pleased with it. Guess that's why I'm still practicing and haven't tackled a "for real" project yet.  This may sound strange, but I'm craving a much larger format to paint on - like a WALL! I need to go large and I need to go fast.  Need to use my whole arm in this action. The practice painting was on 8x11.5 size mixed media paper.   For  couple of hours tonight, I sat with the largest sketch pad I had (good sized one but still not big enough to satisfy my craving for color and movement) and just did small studies in charcoal.  What I learned was I need to learn the posturing on a larger scale before trying to do it small.  I may just have to do the illustrations for my books on a large scale and scan it in sections then put it all together in Photoshop. I know how to do it, that may be easier than dealing with the frustration of such a confined canvas.  Anyway, tomorrow will be another practice day.  Would love to sketch Buntah, but she only poses for the camera - the little HamBone!

There are people who consistently make "the wise decision". Then there are those who KNOW what the wise choice, or action should be, but go right ahead and be a dummy anyway. When you're in that second category, you pay for your stupidity. Usually right away - if not instantly. Rarely do the Gods wait to dish out what's coming to you. They've watched and had a good laugh, now why not the rest of humanity?

The large bandage on my right hand would be clear indicator which of those two groups I fell into yesterday. Did I know I should have walked around the house to the garage to get my leather gloves before I starting digging away at the hard compacted dirt? Yeeees. Did I know that was the SMART thing to do? Yeeees. Did I do that? Nooooooo. Why not? In the infamous words of Bill Cosby, "I dunno!"  Oh alright, maybe I do know - I was being lazy. I can't even say I was being held prisoner by aliens! I was just plain lazy and therefore self-talked my way out of having to be smart.

The result? A giant blister - now popped of course - the size of a nickel in the palm of my right hand. The worst part was, since I had this open wound, Tad and I weren't able to play in the mud like we wanted. That's what breaking up the dirt and getting rid of sharp rocks was all about. We were preparing our mud pit for hours of highly anticipated good 'ol muddy fun. It ended with me on the couch (hey he put me there!), leaning against a pile of soft pillows and covered with Tad's biggest bestest cuddly furry blanket. It was 85 degrees in the house. Penance for ignorance. He also cleaned me up and tended to my wound. His inner, very tender, Florence Nightingale came out and took control. I mean TOOK CONTROL! "This was a really bad owie, now you have to rest".

He cleaned me up, bandaged me excessively and marched me to the couch where he finished his ministrations. He made a giant pile of pillows on the couch using every single pillow in the living room. Ordered me to lay down, took off down the hall and returned with the Mother of all comfortable blankies - took both his hands and all his strength to drag it down the hall. He was so cute I couldn't not comply. After he got me cozy he went off to the kitchen to "do chores". "Do chores," I asked him? "Well yeah, that's what you do when someone gets hurt bad. You take care of them, make 'em rest, then you go do chores." And darned if that little rascal didn't pull up his stairs to the kitchen sink and wash the rest of the dirty dishes!  There weren't many to begin with so he was back at my feet in quick time, dripping wet and cute as hell.

I asked him if I could get up now. He looked at me for a beat then said, "Ya know, next time we dig, you should put your gloves on cuz now we can't play in the mud." Oh God, could I feel any smaller? Nope, not really. I was sufficiently reprimanded by a three year old. A three year old I have a lot of respect for. Enough that from now on, I will be on the wise side of the line. At least when I'm with him. That's the way it is with the good folks I guess. Being around them makes us want to do better. Perhaps that's why kids come as kids first  - and not adults!  

Took the Bullet Train up to UCSF (University of California San Fransisco) early yesterday morning, had another dental appointment. We were finished by noon. Normally, after an appointment, I get back on the Muni, ride it back to the train station, then get back on a train for home.  But that's not what I did.  I'd noticed before, that this particular line, if I continue on it, it goes all the way to the beach. Often I've wondered how much longer it would take to get there and how long I could stay and still make the last train back for home. So far my deeply rooted mothering inclinations have pulled me from my personal desire and got me back on a train for home like any good Mom would do. Not this time. For some reason, maybe it was the near proximity of Mother's Day and my ever evolving attitudes toward that day, or maybe it was just plain wanting to do whatever the hell I wanted to do without being responsible for someone else for a change, most likely it was a combination of the two - but regardless the reason,  I said to myself, "I'm going to the ocean! I'm going to ride this train to the end of the line and go back home whenever I darm well feel like it!" I was unprepared mind you. Not in beach appropriate clothes, no towels to sit on or dry off with, no bags for shells and barely any left over snacks from earlier in the day. I looked down at the two one dollar bills in my hand and knew that, in this case, money COULD buy happiness.  The doors slid open, I stepped up, paid my fare and sat down with a smile. I texted Piper, who always wants to know when to expect me, and told her I was going to the beach instead of coming right back.  "Your on your own for dinner and I have no idea at this point what time I'll be back. Will let you know when I board final train for home." And that was that. I turned my phone off and enjoyed the amazing architecture so abundant in San Fransisco.

Up to this point, it had been sprinkling with a "rolling mist" San Fransisco style. The rain had ceased, but it was still very cloudy, grey and windy. Not a problem. As soon as I saw the rising dune speckled with beach grass, my heart raced into high gear. The doors opened, I stepped off and instantly could feel and smell the ocean in the air. I climbed the first dune, and ahhhhhhh, there it was, vast and never ending edge to edge. The waves thundered, the wind whipped my long hair and carried the ocean spray inland to share with me. It was perfect. Utterly perfect. The weather had scared all but one or two lone die-hards and seabirds off, AND it was low tide!! Oh yeah, the perfect time for finding shells and if you're really lucky, whole sand dollars. The beach was wide, not dropping off into deep waters for a long way out, and was beautifully speckled with bits of shells and broken sand dollars. Before I knew it, my good jeans were wet nearly to my knees, my boots covered in sand, and my hair whipped like it had been caught in a hand mixer. I walked the wet sand, the dry sand, and bent and knelt in search of ocean treasure. For hours, I walked and searched, stopping from time to time just to listen and watch the waves. Several times I had to sit or kneel in the wet sand to find more room for more shells or sand dollars. By the time I'd walked myself sore, both deep jacket pockets were full to over flowing with wet sandy treasures and were literally dripping wet! All my jeans pockets were full, two outside pouches on my backpack, three sandwich bags and two double sandwich deep Rubbermaid containers were full of such a haul! My face and my heart smiled the whole time. I could feel the salty sting on my cheeks and sand on my lips. I was soooo happy - and such a sight I'm sure. More than four hours had passed before I gave any thought to checking time. And you know what? I stayed until "I" felt like going. It was perfect. When I finally got home after dark, I had the perfect dinner; tortilla chips smothered in cheese, microwaved to the melt, then topped with salsa. Followed that with a banana split with whip cream. Added bonus, the happy glow lasted long into today.

Never knew i could feel like such a GROWN-UP at last, and a kid at the same time!