chantico: (Restless)
I have been so very busy, and yet cannot show off any of it. On one hand, this is excellent; it means I am either doing Real Work that is under contract or have been too busy with said Real Work to post or work on anything of my own; on the other, well . . . no work of my own.

Other than work, art and otherwise, life has been pretty excruciatingly boring and grey. I am prepping my garden for an influx of snow peas and spinach seeds (we'll see if I actually get them in the ground this year). Mostly I want flowers, but it is too early to put in any of those. So spinach and snow peas it is, and those should be gone by the time I'm planting pretty things that I don't have to pay much attention to. I hope my Morning Glowires come back; they did last year, which surprised me. Morning Glories are absolutely my favorite flower, especially the blue ones. MOrning Glory blue is the perfect blue.

Um, what else . . . sending out wedding invitations, still; I'm so close to being done! Then comes the planning for the ceremony (i.e. picking out music). I'm not allowed to do anything to plan the parties, which is driving me a little nuts-- OMG, I'm not in contorl, something could go wrong! Fucking weddings, man.

Uh.

Very anti-social, unless it's in my house.

Yeah.

That's all. So boring, it hurts.
chantico: (Frazzled)
I cleared out my garden space, so that I could finally replant it with some pretty flowers. Weeds and dead plants everywhere, and rotten straw and all sorts of things. It felt good to get everything cleared out, to just have good black earth tilled and ready again. I moved the little outdoor table into the back and found an old tablecloth for it, and had breakfast outside that morning. I am eternally grateful for our little woody buffer zone between our place and the awful apartments behind us. At this time of year, all the brambles have bright white little flowers, and the leaves are thick enough I don't have to worry about feeling observed.

It was all done on a whim. I woke up, and I looked at my to-do list, and I went into my closet and looked at my well-ordered system for which clothes I am supposed to be waering oday, tommorrow, and onwards, and was just like "fuck-it". I ended up getting moredone that way than I ever would have just going by the list.

I am the messiest, least organized OCD person on earth. I can leave dishes in the sink for days, but god forbid I wear the same type of pants two days in a row. :p

Have some art.

Starreach
Fearmas
chantico: (Mellow)
The scent of sap is in the air. A couple of weeks ago, you could catch it if you were mindful, if the sun was on a grass. The rainstorm yesterday was the last little push it needed, and now the bushes behind my house are flush with the green glow. Soon, the garden will need planting and the patio put in order so that I can spend the days outside, sucking up delicious warmth. Sun: the best mood-enchancing drug I know.

Winter passed easier this year than some, until about mid-february, when The Crazy came home to roost. Every year, I pace nervously in my mental attic, waiting for it. "Maybe not this year." I'll think. "I've been good so far, this year. I've kept it together! There has been cheer! I've been productive!" Sometimes, there isn't much of a wait before it comes at my inner door with e sledgehammer (Heeeeeeerrrreee's CRAZY!). Some winters, however, it's sneakier, and waits in the bushes outside, watching me through the windows, *stalking*. I always know it is there; at night, it comes in and saps my energy and will to move. But when the strike happens, it's like Hobbes tackling Calvin: it is EXUBERENT in the hostile takeover. This time I only lost half a month, just a little over two weeks, despite the lurking beginning in November. I call that a win in general, the severity of the spell aside.

Spring has come, and I live again!

To post positive proof, I have art. Here are two pictures from what I worked on over the killing months. I'll let more trickle out later.

Belcraft
Verlayne, Orion, Keoffry

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May 2014

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