daisybones

Ask Yourself

noreply@blogger.com (Heidi Richardson Evans) — Sun, 19 Feb 2012 17:21:00 +0000

Sketchbook page. Soon to be a print for purchase when I decide on wording:

Ask yourself: What do your hands & feet know...

or

Ask yourself: "What do my hands & feet know..."?

Also, does this make sense at all? It does to me, but it's like a mojo Rx note to my own mind.

Threasure Nest Thursday: BEATLES

noreply@blogger.com (Heidi Richardson Evans) — Thu, 16 Feb 2012 20:59:00 +0000

Yes, I did have treasures to post Tuesday, but there's been other stuff going on. Stuff involving payment for working with treasures, and for the pretty-making.

But now it's Thursday, and it was art-and-blog day, broken up by a lunch out with Roadblock, who is responsible for technically optimizing every note of music in Charleston and for reminding me several times a week on Facebook that I haven't been up past nine since 2006. Because I've never heard of ANY of the bands playing around town.

Related: they do not have coffee at Deli-Fresh. You'll instead have to drink two gallons of sweet iced tea then forget to pee because you are showing your geek buddy your Lego Darth Vader keychain and omgitlightsupEVEN and by the time you get home you'll be in agony. All because delis don't have coffee. And that is because you're carrying a concentrated piece of cyborg evil with you everywhere.

But tea contains caffeine ~~and can help a newly regenerated time lord with the residual energy burst~~ [Yes, agreed: Too much. I scratched it out.] so then you fire up the ol' Blogger and oops you are three million words in and haven't even posted the photos of the fantastic treasures. Oh, caffeine. I love you so.

Right. So. TREASURES:

beatles 45s: holy CATS!

I found these in a box of stuff I brought home from my Grandma's when we cleaned out her place. They were mom's or Aunt Pea's. We have no record player, so I'm going to frame them. It's Hey Jude & Revolution and Day Tripper & We Can Work it Out.

Open letter poem to many friends

noreply@blogger.com (Heidi Richardson Evans) — Thu, 16 Feb 2012 12:00:00 +0000

I remember you and sweetness is a flood like sugar on my tongue. Maybe a sting of citrus, or tart like raspberry. Never lovers, the possibility was better than the doing.

Your colors are like sun so bright in my eyes that tears gather them spill.

Your photographs still my heart as if you stopped all time when you caught that moment - light only you could see.

I dream of your family as if they were my own. So familiar once and now a stranger I feel I should learn again.

I want to be in another life for just a moment- you laugh and I want to lean in and smell your hair.

I want to run away with you on the road, notes for smiling, knowing husbands left with refrigerator magnets. We would drink cheap beers and drive loud, fast cars and leave laughter roaring behind us with the exhaust on the highway.

You are like one half of my soul. I knew when I met you but confused the reason.

You are family, same as DNA. Absolute fixed truth.

You are sheer delight in knowing; languages written on your skin like me.

Plans, News, Bits, & Such

noreply@blogger.com (Heidi Richardson Evans) — Wed, 15 Feb 2012 17:41:00 +0000

I feel like I have a lot going on, but it's probably just the contrast between 2011 life (drugs pain scars bed) and 2012 life (work design friends writing love). I'm adjusting. I have more energy than I did through December and January, and the pain is far better. My scar is flattened.

Here are the two endeavors occupying my mind at present:

I've finished the art for the cover of Crystal Good's chapbook, Valley Girl. It's a gritty but gorgeous chemical valley sketch. I'm going to show it off very soon. We're using typography in a groovy way to translate her spoken word rhythms into the visual format. This is a delight for my synaesthesia-obsessed brain.

I'm going to be contributing to a feminist Doctor Who blog. I'm as infatuated with the project as you'd expect. My fellow writers are using the word kyriarchy and squeeing about their favorite incarnations of the good doctor. It is a deep, lovely thing to analyze pop/cult culture through a lens of sociological interests. In other words: w00t!!!!1!!!!!ONE!!!!yessssssssssss!!!!!!!!!! It's called Doctor Her. I'll link up as soon as the goodness unfolds.

So, lots doing. Making ideas. Big coffee. Allons-y!

I want this Doctor Who TARDIS on Blue Mug by Cheers2Geeks.

Treasure Nest Tuesday: Vintage Specs

noreply@blogger.com (Heidi Richardson Evans) — Tue, 07 Feb 2012 12:00:00 +0000

These were an epic score. I'm giddy about these gorgeous glasses. I found them at Stray Dog Antiques for eight dollars. $8! I don't usually price-brag but wow.

So very, very giddy.

I have to mail them to 39dollarglasses.com or somewhere similar for new lenses after my eye exam. Right now I can't actually see through them, unless I want the entire world to be blur-filtered. But oh, they are so yummy.

The High Priestess of Chaos Sniffs Around at Order, Decides to Make Friends

noreply@blogger.com (Heidi Richardson Evans) — Mon, 06 Feb 2012 14:22:00 +0000

This is what my family and friends called me in school age days of yore:

space cadet.

This is what my husband calls me:

delirium.

This is what an employee called me:

a really intelligent kook.

And this is what my 237th therapist said:

you have ADD and you never knew because you've been smart enough to manage it pretty well

and then I thought, No, ADD is what my brother has and as a kid we had to dose him with Ritalin but like SRSLY he totes* needed it but anyway I made straight As until college so there's just no way what are you thinking wearing those glasses? they're awful and that outfit is what am I wearing to class later? will the hot girl be there? I should go like a grunge goth thing headlikeaholeblackasyoursoul what color are souls are they like auras and change this therapist has a BEIGE aura ew Oh I am in therapy and she said something new with letters ADD right I do not have that her wallpaper is so ugly I might quit therapy she's bloody stupid the hotgirl's painting is cooler than mine my painting is ridiculous I will finish the broken babydoll one instead and paint this one BLACK pearl jam is cool I forgot how awesome Ten is because wishtherewassomethingrealwishtherewassomethingtrue I wish this therapist would shut up.

And now I am a supposed adult and Very, Very Wise and realize that she was right about that, although I did quit but not because her wallpaper made my eyes bleed. She later decided the genderS of my crushes were problematic and I kicked her in the teeth- metaphor teeth- and reminded her that Dude, it's the nineties. Bisexuality is not a psychological problem. Why are you the third counselor who says this? In a few years we'll have legal gay marriages and you'll all be much more enlightened. Like me. Who, at nineteen have reached a state of self-awareness and wicked coolitude that Buddhist would Ow! My low-rise jeans just snagged my belly ring. Is my eyeliner smudged enough or do I look like I was trying?

Right then. So, there's a degree of attention deficiency that allows one to embrace/cope with the non-linear mind and be very efficient.

I have no idea how those work.

But, I do know some brain hacks that allow one to improve human interactions a great deal. The fatal flaw therein is remembering to do them. And then the most excellent gray matter in human engineering bequeathed unto us this:

(Above: double edged sword. What with the Twitter.

Image credit: http://inserteyeroll.com/2011/09/iphone-app-robs-people-blind-while-they-sleep/ Click the link. Hilarity rewards you.)

My most often used and recommended "app"? The alarm clock. It saves me from forgetting to pick Molly up from the bus stop, reminds me to do every task I need to do ever because I wonder where Maggie Gyllenhaal shops. Probably very hip boutiques in Brooklyn, right? How far from Brooklyn and Claire is Lexi? Who else is in NJ area? Miss Banshee. I love her. I'd forget them all, and my to-do list almost totally lives in alarm schedules.

Snooze... I'm still blogging. Why are you nagging me!!??

For a calendar, I use Cozi, integrated with Shane's. The grocery/shopping lists and To-Dos are excellent, too. More helpful even than the tech, however, is the immense power of accepting that this is my beautiful wild brain. Given a choice I would not trade the creative synapse juice for the innate ability to keep my office in better order. However, innate order isn't a requirement, now that I'm setting my alarm to remind me to clean up my work before I leave my shop. The human life is upgrade-able.

I'm still checking out apps and am open to suggestions, but I'm very happy to have The One Tool to Rule Them All and with the Netflix watch him.

Pictured: either my boyfriend or some other chick's husband, depending on my relationship to reality at any given time. Also, the TARDIS: Televised Amorous Reality-Defying Infatuation. In SPACE.

Credit:

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/tvandradio/doctor-who/5129593/David-Tennant-cried-when-he-learnt-of-his-death-as-Dr-Who.html

God, his hair is AWESOME. Where was I? OH YES. The ADD: I have totally conquered it. Please carry on while I ~~check my email~~ update my status on thirteen networks read Cracked for three hours watch 3.2 episodes of Buffy then three or four Dr. Whos & Fireflys then a food documentary then researching vegan pies for 45 minutes or so then OH HELLO ALARM I have to shower then work.

ALLONS-Y!

*Yes, I DID speak in tween txtspk in 1997. What of it, internet? What of it?

Graphic Art Consulting! I Do That Now.

noreply@blogger.com (Heidi Richardson Evans) — Sat, 04 Feb 2012 15:15:00 +0000

Remember that big art announcement I promised? This is it. [Yes, Finally.]

I'm very excited to announce that I'll be working with Elizabeth Damewood Gaucher and the rest of the team at Longridge Editors, LLC. Longridge offers a variety of services to writers, bloggers, poets, and people who publish things of all sorts. From the Longridge site:

"You are looking for the right person to help you develop a persuasive case statement, prepare a manuscript for publication, or edit a complex document. You need some help navigating the world of blogging and social media but you’re not sure you have the time or the patience to get started and then keep it going. Some days you just wish there were someone you could trust to review and polish the written materials in your life, be they newsletters, proposals, or websites." I'll be creating graphics for print and web, developing book layouts, and any other jobs needing an artsy eye.

I can't gush enough about how talented Elizabeth is, and how jazzed I am to work with her. She writes the blog Esse Diem, and tweets @ElizGaucher. You can meet the rest of the Longridge team here, and hook up with us at LinkedIn, and read the Longridge blog here. Elizabeth includes great writing and publishing tips there, including this great structural writing method.

If this weren't fabulous enough news, my first project is developing a chapbook for one of West Virginia's most ass-kickingly fantastic poets, Crystal Good. It's an amazing collaboration. Her works are very audio-oriented, performance is where she shines. We're using text very aggressively to translate the cadence to visual rhythm. In other words, I am in font lust design heaven. Here are @cgoodwoman's tweets, and here's a performance by the astounding Crystal:

New Color Palette

noreply@blogger.com (Heidi Richardson Evans) — Fri, 27 Jan 2012 11:45:00 +0000

This is my new hobby. I am in love.

This was me riffing on the red we're using as a feature wall when we paint our dining room. For your web graphicking pleasure, I've added hex codes. And the RGB values are there for printy applications. Enjoy the Quiet Primaries.

What're'y'alldoin' tonight? (Indeed, in West Virginian that is one word.) I'm joining the Twitter #wineparty hosted each Friday by Blogging Dangerously's Kit. Come tweet hello. I'm hoping I can find more of this delicious Chardonnay by new darling friend L brought me. Le dog de Charlotte? ~~Le chein de Charlotte? Wine Shop- halp?~~

Oh, thanks Google-fu. Yes, Le Dog de Charlotte. Amazing.

Rainbow.

noreply@blogger.com (Heidi Richardson Evans) — Fri, 27 Jan 2012 01:32:00 +0000

Molly became obsessed with "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" today. It's the music to a game she found for her Kindle, and she played it until my heart broke into tiny, bloody pieces and I had to tell her to stop. It was one of mom's favorites- she was obsessed with The Wizard of Oz. I still can't watch it. Shane made the mistake early in our marriage of turning it on when whatever network aired it, and then I crumpled like tissue and he had to put me back together.

The sweet, unendurable joy my baby girl gets from this song is so precious. And if I live in my brain, the fact that she's fallen in love with her grandma's song is beautiful. But right now, I'm living in my heart and I'm so sad and empty I feel I should collapse inward.

Maybe grief is a black hole but behind a magic door with keys and if you protect your keys it is OK it is just an idea of a hole and time exists and life is normal. When someone accidentally turns the key, all the whole decade since the death folds into yesterday and it's real and right here.

I had to be bigger than sad, so I downloaded Tori Amos' version and added it to her bedtime playlist- the Birdy Shuffle. I remembered mom hating on Tori for being too sugary and I smiled because Molly is on my side. Her favorite is Daisy Dead Petals. And then it's normal [key locks the door but light seeps through cracks] and we're just listening to nursery rhymes and fangirl stuff and Buffy rocks and Captain Hammer is Mommy's boyfriend but inside my chest the gravity and pressure are still pulling me apart.

Bullet Blogging: Radically Random

noreply@blogger.com (Heidi Richardson Evans) — Thu, 26 Jan 2012 13:02:00 +0000

I just burst out cackling after learning that Demi Moore's abandoned role in the Linda Lovelace movie was playing Gloria Steinem. This is because I caught a snippet of an interview displaying her saying she is frightened she'll be all old & alone & whining that she'll realize she was unworthy of love. This annoyed the ever-loving feminist shit out of me. Worry that you'll never find Big Real Love, or regret mismatched partners, or whatever- but for the love of cats, single women, do not jump to blaming yourself.
If I had any tiny bit of empathy I might blame Our Bullshit Culture for Ms. Moore internalizing that tripe, but apparently I am without celebrity empathy.
Unless you are Kurt Cobain, because the American Fame Machine murdered him. Any allegation of weakness of character in Kurt still spins me into a spastic rant.
Also, if you think Courtney has ever had her shit together enough to commit and get away with murder, you may be overestimating her skills at human function.
I should totally have an asskicking 13 tattoo right now, but I don't. My favorite studio held a Friday the 13th promotion and I drove on snowy scary streets to get a $13 thirteen tattoo and there was a big crazy wait, and their couches swallow you into a floppy ball of unsupported-spine and I left after a while. There are two more Friday the 13ths this year, so I still have time.
Before the world ends.
Because I'm not letting this go.
Until 2013
If we're still here.
My hair's still falling out from anesthesia but is still not obvious on my head so I've stopped freaking out about hypothetical bald spots.
My leg nerve pain is pretty much gone, but my back muscles are still cranky bastards.
I've gained back all the weight lost during the Dr. Voodoo period. This and watching Forks Over Knives and a thousand other food documentaries on Netflix have made me decide, AGAIN, that dairy foods are pure evil and want me dead.

Image from stickergiant.com

Yeah, the above fixation with 13 is a Wiccan thing. There are 13 full moons in a year. Being a Wiccan or former Wiccan, depending on my atheist level du jour, means that I also think black cats are awesome and that I do annoying things like referring to god as "she" and believing in chakras while also rolling my eyes at people who believe in newspaper horoscopes.

Have a Colorful Garden in All Seasons

noreply@blogger.com (Heidi Richardson Evans) — Wed, 25 Jan 2012 12:39:00 +0000

This is a guest post by the talented young Miss Kate Wilsson. (But you knew that because I don't actually know jack about gardening. I attract guest writers who do, probably by way of pity.) I love that the article is really about color, and I do of course aspire to be a gardener so that I can continue to be a vegetarian when the Zombie Apocalypse happens. Enjoy, and then check out Ecofriend (where Kate writes) for practical eco-tips to better your footprint. Or to garner skills for a post-apocalyptic 2013. Whatever. -Heidi

Creating the illusion of perpetual bloom in the garden throughout all seasons is mostly good planning, part art, part science and good luck along with a little extra labor. There are certain tricks that can be used to fill pockets of colors in the garden during the summer with a little bit of effort. The garden can be transformed into a lush and colorful space by implementing a few helpful tips given below.

1. Deadheading One way of making the flowers re-bloom until the seed sets in is by removing or deadheading spent blossoms. Periodic deadheading will benefit annuals as well as perennials as this will encourage the flowers to re-bloom. Once the seed sets in the flower is spent and will not bloom again. Deadheading can be done by sniping off from the base the entire flower part which is spent. For those flowers with multiple buds, you can cut off from the base just near to the unopened buds.

2. Shearing Plants that have multiple flower buds can be sheared off once the flowers have all faded by shearing out about 1/3 of the plant. The plants recover quickly and in fact this process rejuvenates the plant by giving it new foliage and new buds. For plants like geraniums and Brunnera, you can shear off the dead leaves and flowers right near the new growth base. They will recover and grow back quickly.

3. Step pruning Pruning perennial plants in step form is a clever way of prolonging the blooms. This can be done by visually dividing a clump of plants into three sections with a front, middle and back. When these plants are about 6 to 8 inches in height; prune by at least 1/3 and 1/2 of the front and center section. Let them grow up to another 6 to 8 inches tall and then prune by 1/3 and 1/2 the front section. This type of pruning will give a step or three levels of successive blooming. According to this pruning, the rear section will bloom first and when it fades out the middle section will bloom. Finally, the front section will bloom to cover the faded previous blooms in the other two levels.

4. Re-seeding Annuals can bloom throughout summer but some annuals do not respond well to deadheading. For annuals such as verbena and cleome bloom and run out before they can set in new buds. To prolong their bloom, they can be re-seeded about 4 weeks after the initial seeding. If you have grown these plants by seedlings then you can seed some at the same time so that the plants that grow from seed will bloom when the seedling blooms fade out.

5. Feeding Plants require feeding as they expend a lot of energy while giving out blooms so your flowering blooms will still require fertilizer boost every 3 to 5 weeks. Super or triple phosphate is excellent to give a kick boost to your plants for boosting bud set and root development as it is a balanced supplement.

6. Mix in colorful foliage By sprinkling your garden with a few hardy shrubs and sprinting annuals, you will never run out of colors in the garden. Plants like the bronze sweet potato vine, sambucus, orange cannas; chartreuse and pale pink and cream Weigela augment and complement the flowers in the garden. These shrub plants have colors of their own and create the perfect illusion of riots of flowers in the garden. You can incorporate these shrubs in your garden so that you never run short of colors.

About The Author: Kate is a blogger by profession. She is fond of writing, travelling and shopping. Recently she bought a White Tv Stand for her living room. These days she is busy writing an article on wave power for her blog Ecofriend.

Heidi's plug: Look! There's a DIY bike generator! This is an obsession of Mr. Bones' and we plan to use it to watch Romero movies as research when Zack* invades.

Image credits:
http://indianapublicmedia.org/amomentofscience/files/2009/08/gardens.jpg
http://www.flowerpicturegallery.com/d/9403-1/Bright+colorful+flowers+at+Flower+garden+at+Lorne+Park.JPG

Inward, Turned

noreply@blogger.com (Heidi Richardson Evans) — Thu, 19 Jan 2012 12:51:00 +0000

I almost missed an opportunity to use my blog as a protest. I did cram in a quick & dirty template redesign and was able to turn my background & text black for the SOPA Blackout protest. I'm sure I've missed a thousand opportunities to take action, and I'm letting that be OK. I'm largely indifferent to the Republican primary campaign, I'm changing the channel when news that hits me hard is aired. (Children missing, someone stabbed close to home) I'm clicking away from "Call for Artists" posts. I'm cultivating a dark-of-the-moon, gestating, dark, quiet, healing time. This has made winter far more tolerable- so much so that I hope I can revisit this feeling every winter, when the frantic rush of the holidays clashes so loudly with the earth's cool, fallow season.

I'm seeing my body & being as located in time as well as space.

I felt so proud, so vital, to have eaten so well and lost some weight. Now I've gained some back, during the bed rest and healing. It's OK. It's a softness, a temporal cushion and a time when rest is more important than motion.

I feel acutely fragile, both emotionally and physically. Somehow I am comfortable with this. When the bed rest was prescribed, I was on the other side of a shift. I'm on the aftermath now, and this new person/body understands transition and delicacy and quiet in a way that woman couldn't imagine.

All this said, I'm moving now more fluidly, my nerves and bones are more right and strong than in years. My muscles, understandably, are still healing from the surgery and are learning new structures. Something has settled, though. The scar is flatter, the skin silken but thick. The swelling around the new artificial spacer is gone completely- my body is comfortable with the new, better support. My trainer let me do real, strong work today. The heat at my temples wanted to yell, "finally!" and the muscles that got a real work-out feel wonderful. We laughed together at the trial-and-error of our hacks to the upper body equipment for a patient with an arm and a half.

I have more energy than I did when I first returned to work. I've been drawing (I need to take some time to scan the new sketchbook) again, and I might finish my Sketchbook Project 2012 book. Or not. I'll let my body guide me without expectation.

I wrote that: guide me without expectation. That's something huge, a perspective I used to see from outside and wish I could assimilate. It's been the arc of my life since mom died. Going into flow, surrendering to the same Universe that hurt me, was such a struggle. There was a wound in my psyche from that hurt, and the changes were marrow-deep. Pregnancy, mothering, art, then managing the shop were all fraught with a need for perfectionism that undermined the pleasure in all of it. I have been fully and comfortably present for so little in this long, difficult decade. Seeing that now, it's impossible not to follow with the idea that this physical hurdle was a necessary lesson.

This is new, too. Thank you, my curved snake spine for this knowledge. Thank you, pain, for teaching. Thank you, quiet and rest and winter for stopping the frenzied cycle. Thank you, disability, for teaching me to protect my limits. (And thank you immeasurably for the privilege of knowing my abilities are returning and expanding.) Thank you for my flaws, cracks, scars, and memories. Thank you for tears, worries, the unknown, and for courage. For knives, bolts, stitches, blood, and bandages.

"thank you,

thank you

silence."

Treasure Nest Tuesday: Boho Bling

noreply@blogger.com (Heidi Richardson Evans) — Tue, 17 Jan 2012 22:44:00 +0000

This gorgeous, fancy ass necklace & earring set is from Collage. Jamie, the owner, made this herself, but she also features jewelry and art and clothing by other creative geniuses as well.

My Official Theme Word for 2012

noreply@blogger.com (Heidi Richardson Evans) — Sat, 07 Jan 2012 17:12:00 +0000

My dear Alexis Yael first introduced me to the idea of choosing a word to direct your energies and intentions for the year. This seems light years better than self-loathing resolutions that just ensure that you begin each year with the attitude that You Are Not Enough.

[which is bullshit]

This year, Shane and I both are focusing on learning to be mindful. We're working through a great book he found:

Here is the Kindle version: Mindfulness: An Eight-Week Plan for Finding Peace in a Frantic World, which is what we're using. I think I'd prefer to have it in physical form, though. There are layout choices that make reading annoying on the Kindle app and some places for notes in the real book.

I've been using the "body scan" practice a lot to tune back in to my body when my brain starts its crazy-making hamster wheel thing.

I feel really excited about living in 2012. For one thing, we've had a blast making fun of end-of-the-world stuff, and are planning an epic bash on December 21st. But beneath the hilariousness of thinking we little Earth Monkeys can predict the end times, I feel like there's been created a sort of collective mojo around this year. Something very fun and irreverent and change-y colors my feelings.

All this could be a reaction to spending most of 2011 in chronic, nagging pain and then capping the year off with a major spine operation. By comparison, even the apocalypse looks appealing. So anyway, I feel good feelings about 2012. I like 12s. I LOVE threes and fours, so twelve is just perfect. I see numbers in geometry. Three is an inverted, uterine triangle. My four is an equidistant cross, and twelve is a zodiac clock of the year. Twelve is whole and ordered and good.

So do you do the resolution thing? Is it positive? Does it work for you? Anyone have any other new ways to kickstart a new year? Do you feel The Big Ol' Twenty Twelve Mojo or is it just me and people with too many books of Mayan calendars?

Marriage: Of the Mundane & the Magical

noreply@blogger.com (Heidi Richardson Evans) — Fri, 06 Jan 2012 16:42:00 +0000

We woke to the sound of our daughter in distress, and we went to our unspoken but seemingly choreographed roles. I took her in arms and cleaned and warmed her. You stripped the bedding and found soft, clean blankets. I told you without speaking that I had an easier day ahead- You knew I remembered you had an urgent week at work. You went out for her favorite drinks and I comforted her and attended her through the long night.

I slipped in and out of dreams during the fretful, chaotic night. In my nightmares she was sick, so sick, and I needed you and tried to call out but couldn't make a noise. I tried to walk and I couldn't, so I crawled to you.

When you came home to us, you steered me gently to bed and kept me from pushing- always pushing- too hard. You kissed us both and we collapsed almost at once into hard sleep.

I had somehow become invisible to my real life, but couldn't live my old one either. No one knew you, or our little hollow. My old apartments were filled with my family but I couldn't get in to them- they weren't home. I called your number and it never rang true to you. Your name was gone from my phone, our address didn't exist. But I knew, and I would find you. I made my way out of my little hometown to the city. I walked, feet bare, to our hidden neighborhood through a long, strange dream-road. I finally found our home, and you held me, and I sobbed like earthquakes and you held tightly.

This morning, we launched snips of aggression at each other like sport, then we both saw the pattern and we both breathed carefully, and stopped. The strain of balancing moods and emotions weighed on me, seeming to be so much work that I'd never learn how to live in marriage. I thought like I so often do, that I am terrible at this. At teamwork, compromise, compassion.

Then you kissed me sweetly and I melted.

Then you left and I cried for my thoughts always spiraling out to failure.

Then I nestled into your smell in the sheets and found what I was seeking.

I always find it. I lose it so easily and carelessly, the understanding. I toss it around like an annoyance rather than nurturing it like it's a living, breathing thing. This entity that exists between two people, this marriage is our creation like our child. I forget and I ignore and I resist and then, always, the mundane falls back like a curtain and I see us and I remember. I forget and remember 1,000 times a day. I always find it- I always find you. Because you are here- you are home, and heart, and center, and sun.

Let's Talk About Personal Aesthetic Theory

noreply@blogger.com (Heidi Richardson Evans) — Tue, 03 Jan 2012 18:40:00 +0000

By which I mean: I got that Changeling* instinct going and I've been daydreaming about growing out my hair and/or a new face jewel. I dreamed I had Zooey Deschanel's hair, prompting a morning of musing on Facebook and then some Photoshop play:

But seriously, I have bang envy. I've never rocked a thick, chunky bang since the horrific poofs of my teens.

How fucking hot would this be?

And here is my question, "Would a labret or Monroe piercing be all busy and crazy with my nosering?" answered with stick-on jewels:

My reaction? No: in fact, it's pretty damn sweet. My husband and coworkers are WRONG. I may start pricing a labret piercing. Yum.

Heh- scrolling through this post I think I really dig my regular ol' BuzzPixie hair. Also, I wish my eyebrows looked this fabulous without shadow. Alas, they are puny. And half of them fell out with a little bit of my head of hair because of the anesthesia. I am never having surgery again.

I have writings of actual substance in me, I really do. But today is not a substantive day. Today is a day for coveting pop star hair and blog-play. For leftover sugar cookies and sodapop. For very possibly wearing my yoga pants (read: pajamas) to work. For staging a pretend concert at my kitchen sink and waking a groggy girl to a coveted snow day. It's a day for which the word lollygag was invented.

---------------
*My mom called me a Changeling, coining a new meaning for someone who drastically changes her appearance because she is an impulsive and easily bored person who lives in a Universe where Manic Panic exists.

I am

noreply@blogger.com (Heidi Richardson Evans) — Thu, 22 Dec 2011 11:16:00 +0000

thick, white ass emo
dandelion goddess
emoticon wonderwoman
eyeball sunshine
gypsy fairy

...according to visitors from Google search. It's a surprisingly accurate portrait.

Color Template + New Header Design

noreply@blogger.com (Heidi Richardson Evans) — Sat, 17 Dec 2011 20:32:00 +0000

I've spent a few days obsessively scouring Pinterest and Design Seed for color inspiration. I knew I wanted to use lime green for my new designs, but when I sat down to develop it, I kept making horribly neon-looking color combinations. I finally decided this woodsy palette from Design Seed was very close:

Then I found this amazing punch of lime painted on a door:

{ originally from BrightBoldBeautiful.blogspot.com }

I also added a medium gray between the two on the woodsy palette, dropped the wine hue, and that was my final palette. It was so much fun creating the color group, I decided to make the collection a nice graphic with the hex codes and RGB values for other web geeks. I've called it Lime Pop Soft:

If you're reading in a feed reader or on Facebook, here's the design:

And here is my new Facebook timeline "cover image":

The new Official Brand Font of daisybones.com is Ephorigenic- free from dafont.com. I love that it has chunky serifs. It has the sturdy, graphic punch of a sans-serif AND the delicacy of a serif font. The bolder grunge font I'm using here is Body Hunter, and the zOMG-adorable monocase font in the web addresses in the Facebook graphic is Arrière Garde, a freebie from Abstract Fonts.

Expect more palettes soon. I've already started a group to use when we paint and redecorate our dining room.

and, in shameless sales pitching,
To celebrate the public roll-out of the new Facebook Timeline, I'm offering a limited time special price for a custom design.

Lessons from Silence

noreply@blogger.com (Heidi Richardson Evans) — Thu, 08 Dec 2011 21:00:00 +0000

Tail between my legs, I left the office of the pain management clinic. It was my first visit, and I'd expected to leave with a plan for mitigating long term narcotic use against the ill effects. Instead, the doctor saw with new eyes what my others had missed. Despite an MRI report that diagnosed just moderate arthritis, he saw the signs of a ruptured disc. His prescription was so radical I broke down in his office—

He sent me to bed.

His advice was to stop blocking the pain with drugs and fighting through physical therapy, and simply to rest while we puzzled over things. I wrestled with the idea for days, frantic about the financial burden at home and the management of my shop. I knew he was right and had reached the mindset of trying anything long before. (Recall my vegetarian vacation when my holistic guru thought meat protein might help a suspected andrenal gland problem.) So, I figured things out with my (amazingly supportive) director and obediently parked my ass in bed.

The first few weeks I was wracked with guilt and had to face a strange realization that sometime since college I had become the total opposite of a slacker and had absolutely no idea how to relax. I've never been organized enough to be very effective, but I'd become a highly-pressurized control freak. Read back through the first couple of years of the blog and marvel at my supermom-wannabe stress. I found it impossible to relish downtime. If the baby was away, I had to cram art projects or cleaning into those hours. Then I took the management position at the shop and didn't turn off the ringer on my phone for at least a year straight. And when my back pain worsened, I started accumulating a debt of guilt about calling in favors with my staff and losing pay. These worries gnawed at me, and (because making myself sick with worry is my specialty) I spiked the mix with dread of surgery.

Between the order for bed rest and the surgery, I settled and relaxed into my reality. Surrender is probably the best description- it was certainly a result of duress. The long days camped out in my bed forced me to reconcile with my only company: My crazy brain. I found a peace with the fact that my life was in a period of rest because that peace was absolutely necessary. If I'd continued to feel guilt and stress about it, I'd surely have imploded. I've been trying to force myself to relax for years, and the obvious contradiction in that wasn't at all clear to me. I think the medical rest time taught me something about flipping that impulse- that I can't tackle my brain to bring my body relaxation. Instead, physical peace comes first, and the mind listens. (Shane and I are reading about mindfullness and this realization ties into these practices very well.)

My challenge is to take this idea really into myself. I've already rushed back into my habits of pushing too hard too fast, but I'm pulling back and remembering to be easy with my body. I'm making progress with healing my mind/body relationship. I think I'm happier in my head and body than I've ever been- and my body's still housing some pain, so I think that's remarkable.

Seasonal

noreply@blogger.com (Heidi Richardson Evans) — Sat, 03 Dec 2011 14:49:00 +0000

Jesus is the reason for the Season

on the bumper of the sedan idling ahead of me, in line at a red light. No, he isn't! my mind insists. The season was a festival before he was born, the old ways swallowed whole by the newer religion and then vomited, barely changed, back into existence. (I've met Christians with keen eyes who see and denounce the pagan trappings of the holiday, but they are rare and I am pleased with their reasoning.)

Now, I think, we've sullied even that remade version. Visions of shoppers and malls thronging with people consuming far more than they can afford. Then there is the cynical cartoonist who invented a jolly figure to sell more everything. A clash in my emotions weighing the lie against beaming smiles. I defend the myth in one instant, deciding that anything that can bring smiles that sweet to my daughter's face can't be bad. The next moment I feel layers of guilt for letting her get caught in the commercial wave of wanting, and for letting the Winter Solstice be shadowed by Christmas. more, I'm regretting not being much more purposeful in the cosmology I teach, but

how?

when science and magic weave and seesaw constantly, and my complex adult brain can't articulate the infinitely gray area of my pantheism. How could I teach my baby, then? I shake off the tangle of worries, and think that this huge celebration is a sumptuous, extravagant ritual time that can be enjoyed. There must be a primal need for an annual festival, and though winter is to me a time of dread, I think I can reframe this as a light to warm the darkness. I think of Hanukkah and the candles and the celebration of light-in-the-dark and miraculous burning and this too hints at the Yule fires.

From fire, I settle on thoughts of my hearth- the word fire draws me to images of home. My dark, brick and wood room centered on the weighty black stove. The delicious smell of smokey warmth creeping up to the rest of the house. Sense memories that illustrate the word cozy. Or cocoon. Warmth, family, quiet, contentment. Here is where I'll focus, in the fires. I decide, sitting in the chill air in the car, that when we reach home I'll light candles on every surface. I'll dust and fill the house with clean smells and I'll go to nesting rituals and let the flow of winter push me inward to my Dear Ones and my self.

--------------------

I don't have to sort it out, don't have to be so damn purpose-driven and rigorous. I don't have to position myself for or against any definition. I'm a liminal creature. I move between ideas and perspectives. This mind/soul and body is a tapestry of concepts and colors. If I show my daughter three or five ways to see the world, that is authentic and she can find her way(s) and grow into them. Right now she invokes Jesus occasionally, and as often asks for Goddess chants lullabies. She is as excited about shopping for gifts to give as she is to dream of what she'll receive.

I am slowly learning to release bitterness, enough to relax into comforting family rituals. I'm learning that both is more powerful than neither. All my puzzles resolve there. Overlapping and synthesis and crossroads.

Treasure Nest Tuesday #71: Fuzzy Sweater + Chinatown Tee

noreply@blogger.com (Heidi Richardson Evans) — Wed, 30 Nov 2011 00:00:00 +0000

This outfit pleased me greatly, so I had my Lovely Assistant take a couple of photos for the blog. (I popped into the shop for a bit today.) The t-shirt was rescued from my shop's $3 Bag Sale (happening this weekend! shameless plug! follow us!) and the fuzzy nubby snuggly sweater is from the boutique. The skirt is a hand-me-down from my mother-in-law. I have no photo of Molly's dear Mamaw, but if you wonder what my mother-in-law looks like, just imagine Molly with dark brown hair and eyes and there's your portrait.

I have never been to any part of NYC, including Chinatown, but the t-shirt has a very pretty dragon and looks cute layered under various bits of clothing.

#NaBloPoMo My Cyborg Ident-Card

noreply@blogger.com (Heidi Richardson Evans) — Mon, 21 Nov 2011 01:29:00 +0000

This is so fucking cool. I'm too tired to actually compose thoughts and words and things, so I'll leave you with that.

#NaBloPoMo Waiting for the Scar

noreply@blogger.com (Heidi Richardson Evans) — Sat, 19 Nov 2011 22:30:00 +0000

The day before my operation, I asked Shane to snap a photo showing my lower back tattoo. The surgeon said he would have to cut through it, but assured me his work is very neat and had hidden scars in a very intricate tattoo. I'm not worried the scar will show- I'm obsessively curious what it will look like. Right now a good bit of it is uncovered by the bandage.

The whole area under wraps is a little swollen, and I can't tell where the actual stitches are. I'm having fun guessing what it'll look like when it's healed. The photo showed me that I have a shameful amount of untapped potential for a large back piece. I've been daydreaming about a spinal tattoo of entwined kundalini snakes since before I had any tattoos. I haven't come up with a design that satisfies me yet. I want a slightly cyberpunk feel, and line movement that hints at the DNA double helix.

The dressing is on until my follow-up visit, in at least a week. I'll have to peak when he changes the bandage. After that the first milestone to await is taking a real bath. The happy trade-off is that all my recent hot soaks were driven by aching legs with nerve problems that have now been corrected.

#NaBloPoMo Friday Favorites: Handbound Journal

noreply@blogger.com (Heidi Richardson Evans) — Fri, 18 Nov 2011 22:10:00 +0000

This book is my favorite thing in the Universe right now- that isn't an opiate. My darling Souster, Megan of Unblinking-i Photography (http://unblinking-i.com), made me this beautiful leather journal. The hand stitching is gorgeous, and the leather- well, it's some damn pretty chocolate colored dead cow.

She read my mind, like SOUlsiSTERS do, knowing that I'd been needing to write by hand.

If you like this, get in touch with me and I'll get you pricing info. This would be a lovely sketchbook as well. The book itself is store bought, so it can be unlined if you like, and you can change the inner book out when it's filled.

#NaBloPoMo Water Doodles for Sketchbook Project 2012

noreply@blogger.com (Heidi Richardson Evans) — Thu, 17 Nov 2011 15:06:00 +0000

This is a little doodle study in my main book, a warm up for using paisleys in water. One of the inexplicable culs-de-sac in my brain contains mild Paisley Designing Anxiety. In the Project book, I plan to overlay the patterns on washes of watercolor (another vague fear) and maybe highlight with white ink.

I like it very much so far. Of course, I am stoned out of my gourd. It's been another good day, recovery-wise. I'm going home tonight! I'm thrilled to smell wood smoke and Molly's lavender shampoo, the warm slight body-deliciousness of Shane's side of our bed. I can't wait to feel the slight pressure of my lovely rings and naked legs against sheets. But the Percocet and I digress. Here be drawings: