A Mixed Dozen

I. I am hoping that this is my last October in this headspace. That’s the hope. *Fingers crossed*

II. Meanwhile, the weekend got much, much better. The girls next door had me over and we talked until the wee hours. It was delightful. Sunday was for puttering and working and being extremely gentle with myself and so was Monday. Yesterday was for filming and editing and laundry and yet more puttering.

III. This got finished for A Year Of Mary

IV. This got finished for New Moon

V. I finished figuring out who teaches in what month in BOD2022, so I’m getting there with putting that together so it can open for registration on November 15th. Moonshine 2022 is also almost ready.

VI. I put this together for next weekend.

Friday, Saturday and Sunday live on Zoom with forever access to the replays after. It’s going to be amazing. Here’s a video promo:

I don’t think I’ve ever actually made one of those before! It was super fun!

VII. Stuff going on with the family that I can’t talk about but whoa. The worries. I am aging exponentially as we speak, yo.

VIII. I am ok, though. Everything is moving in the direction it should be. I’m hanging in there.

IX. I’m here today because I didn’t want that last post to sit here as the first thing on the page for any longer. After I wrote it, I pulled the six of swords and that was a good nudge in the direction of “Okay, missy. Time to move on.”

X. Insert many thoughts here about how much easier it would be to move on if I knew what I was moving towards and how tired I am of the pandemic and how much I wish I had someone who was adept at navigating life to take me by the hand and help me figure out *waves at all of this*. But also thoughts about how at least pottery is awesome and how well work is going and how much I love my people. So, yanno. It’s a mixed dozen around here as usual. Heh. :)

 

 

I Miss Your Face

I. This is a thing we used to say to each other, and I miss saying it. I also hate feeling it because,yo. I miss your fucking face.

II. This is the hardest weekend of the year for me because right now, at this time every year, I’d be either anticipating your arrival, or you’d have already shown up and we’d be hanging out. I am *gutted* tonight. Gutted. I’m Sinead O’Conner level fucked up over the loss of you tonight.

III. I *will* move past it though. I am doing all the spiritual work I need to do to make sure of that. All the therapeutic work. All the self-inquiry. All the fucking work.

IV. But tonight is not *fine* with me. I am not fine.

V. I miss your face.

VI. I am writing into a void. If you’re smart, you’re not reading this. You’re not reading anything. You have disappeared and nothinged me. But you, Trailer Park, were never all that smart, so I suspect you are reading this. Ya fuckin’ donut.

VII. I poured you up a shot of Fireball. It’s sitting by George who is guarding it for you. I whispered in his ears that I want you happy, over it, well, and thoroughly moved on and George said “You’re lying” so the work is a work in progress. Most of this is true. I want you happy and well. I do not want you over it or moved on. I want you missing my face. I want you full of egrets.

are they stability? My love. I hope they are stability af.

Full of them. I want you to have anniversaries like I have anniversaries. I want you drunk on the garage floor with my name in your mouth. I want there to be things you hear or see that make your guts flip. I want you gutted.

VIII. I do not like what this says about me, but I can live with it because unlike you, I can live with all my parts.

IX. You should come hang out with me and learn to live with all your parts.

X. In my dreams, we are just about to walk up the hill toward the fire. I put on something pretty because you called me a beautiful woman once and I believed you. You take my hand. We have all we need. The buffalo skin we’ll spread out by the fire. The cooler of whatever we’re drinking – Caesar’s and Fireball and maybe some Buttershots. You look at me like maybe I am magick and I am happy and certain and ready for whatever comes next.

XI. I miss your face. <insert a bunch of swearing because I really fucking miss your fucking face>.

XII. Our people are gathering tonight, virtually. We’re doing a burn. Last time we all did a burn in person, I watched you help to manage the burn. Your tall, broad frame at ready to save the fucking world if anything went awry. My triple A, Mine, I thought. You strode back my way and you called me Ivory tower. I laughed at you and called you Trailer Park. Laurie wandered over to tell us we were one of her favourite couples. You took my face in your hands and kissed me soundly. There was applause. I was *yours*, I thought. You were mine. I was yours.

XIII. I was wrong, though, and I wish I’d known sooner, because dude.

XIV. It’s a year on now and I’m still pretty much gutted.

XV. My love, my love. I miss your face. I really fucking miss your face.

Crackling Good Weekend

I. I spent all of Saturday making perogies with Lee. I haven’t done perogies in AGES so it was super fun to dust off my inner domestic goddess and do the thing I used to love to do. There was music and wine, laughter and hip wiggling, and eventually, dinner, which Lee put together for us since after making two huge pans of perogies (a bacon laden batch and a vegetarian batch), I was spent.

II. He went home at ten and I finished my night with the news and then an audiobook. I slept like a baby.

III. Yesterday was spent putting some final touches on things for month-end, and once that was done, I put on some outside clothes and headed over to a dinner party hosted in a new friend’s backyard. I put my offering of perogies on the table and then set myself down by the fire to tend it. Wherever there’s a fire going, there you will find me. It’s in my DNA to be a firekeeper, I think.

IV. It was the perfect evening. Smart people thrill me and everyone there was smart as whips. The conversation was far-ranging and intimate. Everyone had something in common so there was a lot of vibing and resonance and plans made for future gatherings. There was gentle ribbing, banter, and puns that made me exclaim I HAVE FOUND MY PEOPLE.

I’m so glad I moved here.

V. My perogies were a hit, which always pleases me. Our hosts are also fab cooks so every morsel we ate for dinner was fantastic.

VI. The mosquitos came out around eight p.m. so we all cleared out and I headed home to spent a few hours solo, which was much needed because I’ve been a social butterfly lately!

VII. Tonight, I’m heading off to pottery class where I will learn about trimming and turning!

VIII. There’s a giveaway on the blog. Click here to get in on it!

IX. I didn’t make my thirty posts in thirty days but I feel like the blogging habit has taken hold once again and I’m hoping to keep it up this time.

X. Thanks, as ever, for hanging out with me.

GIVEAWAY WINNER ANNOUNCED!

Thank you all for entering the giveaway! I am pleased to announce that Kaye Shanks has won the giveaway and she has been notified!

***

Happy Monday, lovelies! I’m giving away a seat in Life Book 2022 AND the free taster sessions start TODAY!

HOW TO ENTER: Just leave a comment letting me know why you’d love to come along for the ride this year and I will draw the winner on October 10th!

In Other News!! We Start Tomorrow!!! Are you in?

Registration is open for the Life Book 2022 Free Taster Sessions! The program starts on the 27th of this month, so that’s MONDAY!! WOO HOO! Get two weeks of art instruction and get to know the teachers who will be featured in next year’s program!


If you already know you’re in, please use coupon code ARTJOY30 to get 30% off of your purchase of Life Book 2022!!

I did a lesson on Journal Jamming and how it’s changed my creative practice for the better. I also demonstrated what I do with my “palette pages” as a bonus.

See you in there!

Love you!

The Okayness

I. I’m thinking I’m not going to make 30 posts in 30 days but that’s okay. I am calling the fact that I’ve been blogging a LOT more a win! I enjoy blogging, and I love the interaction that happens in the comments, so I’mma do my best to keep it up. I just have to watch my bandwidth.

II. Dreamhost updated my teaching network website to a faster version of MySQL and holy hannah. My site is smoking fast right now! This bodes well for opening programs for 2022.

III. I painted a thing and I wanted you to have the speed painting of it because I am so stoked about it. Enjoy!!

IV. I hope Jason Kenney is eating crow. Alberta is in terrible trouble to the point where they are sending patients to hospitals in Ontario. GET IT TOGETHER DUDE. People are dying.

V. Vaccine passports are in play now here in Ontario, and I’m a fan.

VI. Renee sent me to a TikTok that features handbuilt things and I am obsessed because I love throwing, but hand-building is something I’ll be able to do at home. I can buy the clay from the studio, and then bisque fire, glaze, and glaze fire there, I think. Squee!

@milliespotteryReply to @ebony_b00 I can certainly try! #halloweenmug #spookyseason #potteryprocess #satisfyingvideo #autumnvibes #practicalmagic #witchyvibes♬ Crystal – Stevie Nicks

Isn’t her work adorable??!!

VII. Look at this beauty.

VIII. I think that’s all I’ve got for today, loves. Thanks, as always, for hanging out. <3

Loving Your Own Art Out Loud

This is painted on a 9 x 12 wood cradleboard. It is making me ridiculously happy.

LOOK AT IT. MY GODS. THE GORGEOUSNESS!

And this post is in direct opposition to a thing I saw on Facebook a while back where someone was snidely remarking that it makes her super uncomfortable when other people love their own art, as if loving your own art is something you should never admit to.

Like, dude. What?

Image reads “Self-esteem is the ability to see yourself as a flawed individual and still hold yourself in high regard.”

Loving my art and saying so is a huge marker of my recovery from narcissistic abuse syndrome. I can love my art. I can say I love my art. I am not afraid to be overheard saying I love my art. I am not waiting for someone to “neg” me – a term which means purposefully putting a person down in order to prop yourself up – a trick narcissists are adept at using. I am not compelled to use false modesty or the humblebrag to soften the blow of my brightness in the face of a super jealous narcissist who can’t stand to feel like I might have something going on for me that has nothing to do with them. I am safe from *waves at all of that*.

I love my art.

I want you to love your art or whatever else there is to love about yourself (so much, omg!).

This is my mission.

I just wanted to tell you.