Double Macchiato. Stat.
April 23, 2015
If you are as illustration-obsessed as I, buy this book.
Early morning, I log onto this Mac and browse. I prefer to interface my way into my day with a little cyber playtime. I have a routine, which sites I go to first. I am very old school and still read blogs. I start the day with bright, pretty blogs that are worlds apart from mine. I like Mormon mothers who wear Anthropologie clothes, birth gorgeous children once a year, and decorate their homes in bright colors with whimsical touches.
They're like a storyboard and, if I skip the proselytizing posts, I am very entertained.
I had to stop Mr. Pom from buying this gigantic can of salt packed anchovies (or were they sardines?)
Then I surf over to some of the Big Blogs, those that started off years ago and hit the big time and have become industry standards. I don't read a lot of them but I like to check in and see if I'm missing anything and what the latest internet scandals are.
But the heart of my reading are the blogs who are my friends, some even in realtime, and some just in my head. With the dogs piled up around me and angling over who will be the first to knock the laptop onto the floor, I spy into lives in England, Norway, Canada, California, Vermont, Florida, and all points on the globe.
Painting in the car: Mobile Studio Time
I read about recipes, art, journals, turquoise interiors, women's rooms, Portlandlandia, LA, food, fashion, photography, and farms.
I skip over to Instagram to see what cute pics of the baby my daughter has posted. After that it's a quick breeze through Facebook to see what the arty friends are up to.
Carried all these treasures home from the beach in a pink doggie poop bag mitt (clean) courtesy of the town beach . Waiting for an hour of free timeto finish sketching: I think 6 to 7 a.m. this Saturday is clear.
After that, I reluctantly get out of bed, shower, trowel on make up, select a suit, make lunch, pack two apples and granola bars, and head out. My rolling briefcase makes a lot of noise and I pretend I am a stewardess - yes not a flight attendant - headed for Tokyo instead of Starbucks and wherever they are sending me this day.
My reading is done in the car. Don't worry, I'm listening to it on tape. Finished H is for Hawk and it was AMAZING. Now onto In the Woods by Tana French, which is long on narrative and shorter on investigation but I think all the pieces are about to come together to solve two murder scenes: one 20 years ago; one last month.
Messaging book covers from Cape Cod to daughter in New York before I bought them: she had them all already. I definitely gave birth to that one.
My world has shrunk these days. I am juggling it all by filtering it down to the essence. I like to think of it as the Espresso Period. Jolting and quick. I do nothing but what I most need to.
I need to work. I need to spend hours and hours and hours at work. Sometimes I spend hours and then bring it all home to spend some more.
I need to see the baby, so I find little slices of a spare hours that falls from the sky like manna, run around like a nut and vacuum up every piece of dog hair, order in, and have them over mid week so I can make him belly laugh, chase him chasing the dogs, and inhale the intoxicating aroma of Baby.
I need to cheer up Mr. Pom, who is in a 3-month siege of back pain. I need to buy some fresh food, cook healthy meals for him, and sit for an hour and watch TV with him whilst I finish a report or prep for the next day.
And then right before bed, to ensure a calm, dreamless sleep, I watch whatever Netflix anxiety-provoking crime drama series I am obsessed with. Right now I am knee deep in the second season of The Killing. It's much better written than Bloodline, but I am missing the Florida Keys , and the Seattle rain and Linden's same bulky sweater and ratty parka are depressing me. But Holder is quite entertaining. I have adopted Linden's pinched, worried facial expressions for work: resting bitch face my kids call it, and it is quite effective for scaring people away from my cubicle when I concentrating.
What about you, are you gulping down quick shots of jolting life in carry out cups? Or are you all sunny morning sidewalk cafes and triple venti cappuccinos?
Share with me your dreamy worlds, your studio time, your pages dripping with pigments, and lined with India ink words.......