Stuff & Things
…without my own father, Rob Roy Wirt.
I was Daddy’s girl, as much as a small-town, free-range white kid in central California could be, and I had my Dad for 19 years only.
But that doesn’t matter…I can close my eyes and see my dad standing in our kitchen, cooking his steak, whistling, or telling me stories, or singing to me…
See, I remember him and think of him most every day. I remember every story my cousins told me about how my Dad was the coolest Uncle many years before I was born.
I know about how, when he was 19, after Pearl Harbor, he had to eat bananas and cream for 2 weeks to make weight to enlist.
I know he met my Mom when my oldest Brother was a baby and how he always wanted a little girl.
And I have three older brothers, two of whom are fathers themselves. Unlike with the women in my life, there haven’t been many men who have tried to be father figures to me…I had a stepfather for a time and he was nice enough…but the constant males in my life have been/are my brothers. Each one of them has stepped up for me at some time in my life, they are the best men that I know, and I am blessed and lucky that they are MY Brothers…my Brohim.
We all miss Dad in our own ways…the fact of his absence just hits harder some days, for me.
My memories are what I have now…
“And I know you’re a part of me
And it’s your song that sets me free
I sing it while I feel, I can’t hold on
I sing tonight cause it comforts me
I’m glad it sets you free from sorrow
But I’ll still love you more tomorrow
And you’ll be here with me still
All you did you did with feeling
And you always found a meaning
And you always will”
– Alter Bridge
…and it’s basically my “Friday” night. I did the just work of the library, went to the gym (why is it always arm day?) and am now sat on my queen chair with Emily on my lap, and she is insisting that I do not move from here.
I want to paint…I took out the trash because it smelled like hair color remover (worse than a perm) and I have a renowned capacity to ignore dirty dishes, so I will sit here for a while longer (for Emily, you know…) then paint in my journals, like this:
or in my Book Of Days, like this:
Or on my new canvas, like this:
OR on one of the illustrations for my friend’s book of songs:
…so the options are open…hmm….
Welp…since I’m meeting with the author tomorrow, that decides it…
I’ll eat my leftover pizza salad (you don’t know pizza salad?! Get thee to MOD Pizza) and listen to my girl’s podcast while I make the art…have a great weekend!
I’ve been trudging along, working, making art, trying to have a social life…
Self-care. It’s a thing. A thing I’m working on…for my sanity. I have to be good to me. I deserve it.
Part of taking care of me includes being around other people. Preferably folks that like me…
I had company last weekend, ; my beloved Juli traveled for hours just to come see me. It was wonderful and lovely and healing.
I’m spending part of this holiday weekend at one of my Brother’s (I have 3) south of Sacramento. He and his family seem to like to have me around. I have 2 nephews who are here for the weekend, and they seem to stay impressed with their Aunt Nancy.
Coming to see my family is good for me, and not just because they cook for me (grilled steak yesterday, tacos al pastor today). I hear music here that I don’t hear at home, in my musical rut…and I think highly of of my family’s musical tastes, mostly. They all play instruments of some sort. Our parents were singers, Dad was lead in a barbershop quartet back when that was the bee’s knees, Mom was asked to sing a solo at every church we attended. My oldest brother has played the drums for longer than I have been alive and I’ll be 50 in a minute. My second brother plays the sax and flute, and his sons play drums and keyboard respectively. My youngest brother plays keyboard, and me? I am the audience that claps the LOUDEST!
I drove home the long way so I could see the river rather than the Sacramento skyline…I rolled through green-dappled, tree-lined curves along some river in the delta, thinking about how many shades and tints of green there are and how grateful for my silly little life I am…
And I am home, with my Emily on my lap, planning a nice, fried-egg supper…right after I play with my juicy new metallic watercolors:
I am an opportunistic artist, and I bought them at Hobby Lobby and only threw up in my mouth a little bit doing it…
A happy new week to all…and I’m making 2 copies of that…
Do you hear me?
Do you care?
- I dyed my hair blue.
- I signed up for iHanna’s Spring postcard swap, so…10 postcards ready by May 30th.
- I signed up for Effy Wild’s Book Of Days course. It’s a heaping fuckton of content: videos, pdfs, guest artists teaching lessons…I’m still in boot camp and it’s already completely awesome.
- I am creating 26 illustrations for a book of someone else’s songs/poems. This sounds impressive but please note that I am totally winging this…
- My BabyGirlKid, Emily, is adjusting well to being an only cat. She likes my undivided attention and all of the treats & toys to herself, apparently.
- The Fed Gov’t is attempting to raise my student loan payment amount (over $200 more) and I’m still dealing with health insurance fuckery from when I was on medical leave.
- I am going to the gym after work today then home to art this shit right outa my head.
I bought ranunculus at the farmer’s market. Red and yellow and one drowsy orange bloom:
Sharing is caring.
I have this magazine from maybe 2010 to now.
It’s always inspiring, with at least something colorful in each issue.
Newest issue/eye candy!
All of my ink up to this point has been plotted, planned, collaborated on…
Yesterday, I picked something off a flash sheet & had it done.
Daria Morgandorffer in a Wednesday Addams costume.
Or, a self-portrait, if-you-will…