UPWND LEG  22X12  ACRYLC/BIRCH PANEL  
Somewhere recently I read that in order to be credible as a writer, you need to reveal your faults or somehow share that you ARE human, things can upset you, not everything "comes up roses".
Well, as I said to my friend the other day when she was regaling me with a list of things she was doing for her employer for little or no compensation, "this is not the time of year to be pissed off!"
But, here goes, for the sake of credibility.
Things that "piss me off" (more politely put, "irritate me" but if I'm going there, I might as well, well, go there.
1.  the "wrong number recording"  you know the one that's been violating your ear drums for 50+ years.  It begins with 3 very high pitched, unpleasant tones, then says "the number you have reached, 888-8888 is not a working number..."
OK, I'm already upset that I misdialed, how about a sweet trill of a bird or a cello saying, so sorry...
If anyone out there reading this has any pull, I would bake you a decadent chocolate torte with chocolate ganache and fresh rasberries if we could get this changed.
2.  reality tv   Coming from someone who rarely watches any TV other than sports or a good movie, I do understand the desire to watch something silly or purely fun after a hard day, take your mind to a different place, escape, but some of the programming insults our intelligence  as humans.... really.
3.  road raged drivers  when I make a mistake and get into the wrong lane, it really is not helpful to have someone pull alongside and give me the finger and honk their horn.  I'm already holding myself accountable, not pleased that I made the error!  Do you really think that I was purposely trying to ruin your day?
Three is enough I think, who wants to dwell on these things?  I had to work to come up with them.  I just cannot end a post with whining.  


The words of Socrates:
“The secret of change is to focus all of your energy, not on fighting the old, but on building the new."
This time of year holds thoughts of promise, love, giving, kindness.  I hope you enjoy this treasure of a poem as much as I did.

Kindness
by Naomi Shihab Nye
Before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth. 
What you held in your hand,
what you counted and carefully saved, 
all this must go so you know
how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness.
How you ride and ride
thinking the bus will never stop,
the passengers eating maize and chicken
will stare out the window forever.

Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness,
you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho
lies dead by the side of the road. 
You must see how this could be you,
he too was someone
who journeyed through the night with plans
and the simple breath that kept him alive.

Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside, 
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing. 
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.

Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day to mail letters and
purchase bread,
only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
It is I you have been looking for
and then goes with you everywhere
like a shadow or a friend. 

CROW MOON  4X6" BLOCK PRINT /avail w/white matte/frame 100.

November is gray and black, damp, cold.  Short days of low sunlight, mixed with clouds.  Long nights growing increasingly colder.  It's the time of year I think (almost) all movies choose to depict funerals--black tree limbs, black coated people holding black umbrellas silhouetted against gray clouds, gray tombstones, the dark, damp earth.

Quick, let's look at it another way!  

The simple shapes of those leafless tree branches sway back and forth in the wind, 
sometimes cradling a bird so obvious, 
so beautiful in its starkness. 
The wide open spaces call for a game of touch football 
or cartwheels and laughter.  
Suns of orange, pink, purple rise up in the mornings,
large glowing orange circles gently roll up over the horizon 
to change to paper white moons of autumn.  
There is a clarity. There is quiet. 
LIght the lamps.  
This is a time to recharge, renew, and rest, 
prepare for the long summer days ahead.

"This is a beautiful piece! How are you going to market it? I freakin' love it!  It's really something special!"  
These are the words of my wonderful husband. No, he's not a book reviewer, but his words must be taken with some credibility as he rarely reads my posts.  That wasn't fair --let's say he reads one in seven?  So, his reading the book was as though he was seeing much of it for the first time--fresh, honest eyes taking it all in... just a teensy bit biased.

To be honest, I love to help other people market their work/themselves, but for myself, it is a mighty challenge.  The best way I have found is to "share".  Share work, process, thoughts and hope you find it inspiring.  The book does have a great feel, in your hands, pouring over it, feeling 3+ year's seasons, colors, compositions, words from many artists, poets, writers, not just my own. I honestly wish I could just give you all one to thank you for following me!  Self publishing 170 color pages is expensive, but I truly think you'll savor it.