This is getting rather repetitive. There's a lot of "Go Fetch" going on. And there will be again tomorrow. So just stop back to Maggie's page every day, just in case. Can you believe she now averages 180 hits a week, excluding reloads? And she's just getting started.

Me on the other hand--I do ok. But I get a lot of accidental visitors doing searches on Google and whatnot. These, in fact, were my 20 latest search results hits:
1. Penguin Art  
2. Weimaraner pencil sketches  
3. gollum .wav sounds cough  
4. rusty the narcoleptic dachshund video  
5. "chinese jacks"  
6. winged migration penguin dies  
7. penguin art  
8. brother friends "tickle torture"  
9. "dolly pops" fashion  
10. "I want out" "mother in law"  
11. lyrics of maybe by neocolor  
12. penguin violent  
13. PET GENTOO PENGUIN  
14. opus penguin mother's name  
15.  "sacrificing my dream"  
16.  itchy rash with liquidy pimples on hand  
17. rising pimples with oily inside itchy  
18. not a long long time ago  
19. festiva joyous  
20. wedding at oheka castle estimate  

I don't know what's scarier--the fact that someone somewhere has an itchy rash with liquidy pimples on their hand, or that my website turned up as the number one result. It sounds like poison ivy though, doesn't it? I mean, I'm no doctor but...

Please tell me I'm not crazy; that it is common knowledge that every office in the USA should be closed on Monday to observe Indpendence Day (since it falls on a Sunday)?

And please tell me that therefore I should not overhear telephone arguments between CEO and his Mother whereupon I hear her defending me, "Blaine. Blaine. Blaine. Calm down. Blaine.... Everything is closed on Monday... Blaine. Yes it is, Blaine!*"

Is it not bad enough that she had to come to me when CEO was not here to give me a prep pep talk about how he was bound to be "nervous" about my request for Friday off in addition to my "we have off on Monday, right?" email because he is going to be away most of July--something I did not know before I sent the official vacation day request/observed holiday question mesage. Not that I don't understand why he might be hesitant to allow Friday as a vacation day on such short notice (yesterday). But his Mother had to come to me when he wasn't around to show me her calendar so I knew when he and she would be away, and gently explain to me hat her son was not going to be so understanding. But then he doesn't show up to work until 12:30pm when "time is [supposedly] of the essence" and there is "so much to go over before we go away."

So I am feeling a rotten milk feeling in my gut. Maybe it's the Starbucks Java Chip Frappachino I chugged this morning curdling with the sudden gush of acid in my stomach. This is what my therapist would call a sign that my boundaries are being violated. That the family business's passive aggression is saturating the office and seeping into my skin, and my little inner child, Snowbird, is screaming that she wants to enjoy fireworks and popsicles and sunny fun time with her puppy on a well-deserved 4 day weekend--or at the very least, a 3 day weekend like everyone else. She wants to wear her red-white-and-blue with ribbons in her hair and wave her flag as the bicycle parade rides down the street. She wants to go to the beach with her dog in the morning and eat hot dogs and water ice at night. She wants it--NOW!

All the while I wonder why CEO is so scared of me, too intimidated to just talk to me about the holiday and vacation day in person, like a normal, professional 40 year old adult, and instead asks his mommy to do it for him so he won't have to face my inevitible disappointment. Or does he fear worse? What is it? What?!

CEO has finally appeared and has walked past my office several times without a "hello." Now he has locked himself into his office and is on the phone. Ok. Time for lunch. Time for Maggie. Then I'll come back to work and it will be time to have a normal, professional adult discussion about what I deserve. (I hope I feel this pumped when I get back. Help!)

And in the meantime...



(*names have been changed to protect my paycheck)

Maggie was upset because she was getting so very few comments on her journal despite her glorious beauty, so I changed the formatting to HaloScan so that everyone could lavish her with praise whenever they wanted. Not that she really needs it.

In other news, I am really, really tired. And that is all.

Don't be so quick to walk away
I wanna rock your body
Please stay
You don't have to admit you wanna play
Just let me rock you
Till the break of day

Ok, I am officially one of "Those Dog People." Thank you and good night.

Have y'all called the Lunch Lady yet today?

At my last legitimate job we called the Lunch Lady line every Friday, because Fridays were always her best. Always a guaranteed pick-me-up, she recites her menu selections with southern charm and often sings songs or offers words of wisdom on her voicemail greetings. She used to be the grill chef for 25 years at the cafeteria of the U.S. Geological Survey [USGS] and was asked to record the daily lunch menu in 1996. In 2001 she lost her job to a website menu, and it was very sad indeed. I just thought of her today as I typed her catch phrase in my heading up there, so I Googled "the Lunch Lady" and my gosh I found her! Learn more or just call her now, and whenever you need a little sunshine. (510) 351-7654

To further tide you over until I post more Maggie pictures, I have found another puppy blog, called Tag the Dog. Here is a chocolate labrador retriever who was born a week before Maggie and his parents have dedicated a photo journal to his daily adventures. You'd never know he and Maggie were so close in age, because Tag is HUGE. Here Maggie thought she was so original. (Well she still is, she types her own entries, whereas Tag has yet to speak his own voice).

And of course there is The Daily Oliver which really did give me the idea to post Maggie's photos in the first place. Oliver's photos are truly brilliant and beautifully artsy. There's no need for words on his blog.

And wouldn't you know, the dawg blawg that introduced me to Oliver has a beeaUtiful portrait of Finny up today with an amazing but true dog story to boot. That girl Finny was one of the driving forces for my getting a dog when I did. I mean, I have wanted my own dog for years, but this post plucked me out of wishland and pushed me into action. It was all in that entry. Everything I was missing and needed badly. A true animal companion. And now I have her! Of course, Maggie doesn't sit still very well yet, but she does have her cuddly moments. Sometimes I just look down into her big saucer eyes and imagine all kinds of perfect magical moments that we'll share in the years to come.

This weekend, try enjoying life like a puppy would. With copious amounts of tail wagging, scent sniffing, butterfly chasing, flower licking, nose kissing joy.

Pictures from Maggie's first shore trip are up. Meanwhile I just found out that it was my MOTHER-in-law that made the "No Maggie at the Shore House Until She's Housetrained" rule, which really surprises me. I thought for sure it was Dad-in-law. She seemed so easygoing about it last weekend. I wonder what happened? I mean, she is a very, very, very tidy super clean woman but she seemed very tolerant of Maggie's mishaps.

Well, fortunately she's a bit easier to convince than Dad-in-law when it comes to these things. Well I guess we'll have to work her a bit. Right Maggie?

"Wrrrrrrrroooof!"

I'll be picking up the beach pictures tonight on the way home from work, so they might not be online til tomorrow. I can't wait to see them.

I really don't know what else to write today--I've got project-finishing on the brain, with 2 major projects being my stress of the day. Once these two are finished, however, I will feel free as a bird and able to focus creative energy where it belongs--on my children's book work. This excites me.

But even before that I must clean out the closet in my studio. Melanie has inspired me with the wisdom of Bluepoppy. Even if my fung doesn't shway for very long, at least things will be better organized and more usable. Right now the ole closet holds lots of dried up art supplies, quadruplet samples of my work, miscellaneous toys and books and magazines and crap, certain whatnots saved from my childhood, and my preserved wedding dress. The wedding dress might need to stay there (needs to stay cool and dry) but alot of the other whathaveyous can be stored in the attic or discarded.

Oh the attic. That hot, hot attic. I've never, ever liked attics very much. Nosiree. Hot, dark, dusty, insulatey and crammed with stuff including cobwebs and dead insects and who-knows-what-elses and unmarked boxes too heavy to move. Yet when I was little my sister and I made a fort in the attic crawl space connected to our bedroom. We'd stuff sleeping bags and pillows, stuffed toys and flashlights in a very small insulated corner of the dark, low-ceilinged corridor. Actually, we made lots of forts in our golden days. I think tiny dirty spaces decked with cobwebs and crawling with Daddy Long Legs were two unspoken necessities to a successful secret hiding place, even if they made for dirty knees and hair.

Oh dear, between the time I typed that last paragraph and now, I have gotten some sad news. Maggie is banned from the shore house until she is better trained. House trained, that is. Here I thought father-in-law missed her piddles but I guess he didn't. Other than those accidents Maggie was sooo good. No biting. No scratching. No eating foreign objects or even other people's flip flops. Her only vice was the indoor vs. outdoor potty. We had planned to take another trip down for the long 4th of July weekend, but now I'm not so sure. I don't think I can guarantee that she'll keep her business outside. She really struggles with it in strange places, like at my office. She doesn't know a signal yet to tell us it's time to go when she's not home. At home we know because she always goes to the same 2 areas in the living room. Oh help. Oh bother and help.

I was sans internet all day yesterday and most of today and I was totally going crazy without it. It is my one steady reliable connection to the outside world when I am here... that is, except when a tree falls down over power lines on the same street. But now I am back and I just had to come here right after reading my email.

This past weekend was a total refresh, recall, reload kind of weekend at the shore. Andrew and I brought our Maggie along which made for a whole new kind of seashore experience. Long gone are the lazy days of waking at 10am, having breakfast at 11 and get on the beach by 12. Oh no no no. Now it is wake up at 6am with Maggie, play with her til she's tired again, go back to bed if possible and if not then discuss how we'll work around Maggie's schedule for the rest of the day. Which means we did not go to the beach this time as her schedule was all crazed up and so was she. She refused to pee or poo outside the house as she really preferred the Berber rug indoors. This went over fine with my mother-in-law but my father-in-law is less pet-tolerant and so much of Maggie's comings and goings were hidden from his watchful gaze.

Saturday was a big day for Maggie as she met Otter for the first time. I took photos of this moment and will post them when they are in my hands. Otter's mommy Megan was not confident in Otter's social manners and we did not expect them to get along as well as they did. Otter tolerated Maggie much more comfortably than she's ever treated any other canine. That's because she really doesn't believe she is a dog herself. Why do we degrade her with these 4 legged friends? But all in all the meeting was considered to be a success.

Saturday night I was able to step out with brother-in-law and sister-in-law-to-be to meet up with Megan and her husband and we played a bit of beer pong, then walked to a local bar and avoided the crowd as much as possible. Afterwards we headed back to Megan's place and had pizza, then stopped in on another party and I have been told that we arrived back at the family shorehouse around 3:15am. This would explain why rising with Maggie at 6am was so gawsh darned painful. But despite my aching head, dry red eyes and leftover bar stench I accomplished the one goal I had set for the weekend--I took Maggie to the beach.

It was a long walk for Maggie so we took a few breaks (which I also benefitted from immensely) until half an hour later we were climbing the path through the dunes. No sooner did Maggie set foot in the soft sand that she stuck her nose deep in it, resulting in a sugar-doughnut-like coating on her shnoz. Adorable. Once she adjusted her walking style to suit the new terrain we headed for the water. Then Maggie heard her first wave crash. She stopped dead in her tracks, gave it a fierce "Bark!" and made a full 180 degree turn in the opposite direction. I picked her up so I could enjoy the sound of the cool morning surf for a moment but she was trembling with fear. Knowing I couldn't convince her, I released her and she darted back toward the dunes, her little puppy prints trailing behind in the sand. When we reached the path through the dunes she chilled out a bit, long enough to decide it was a perfect place to take a rest and dig a little whole. Seagrass was incredibly amazing to her and if I didn't have her on a leash I probably would have lost her to the thickets in the sand. I am far less interesting than a forest of long blades of grass growing from soft powdery sand, littered with stinky seashells and fishy crabby carrion. As we sat atop our sandy mountain I felt my eyes drop and my head fuzz up as I fought the sleep that I still needed. As we were about to head back to the house we met a man with a full-grown 8-year-old Beagle with a soft, worn demeanor. Maggie swung her tail with glee in a manner that exclaimed, "Are you my Daddy?!" and the old hound sniffed her nose until she fell submissively onto her tummy, whining for some paternal affection. Mr. Beagle's owner wasn't the type to stop and chat so they were soon on their way. After that Maggie and I headed back to the house, both of us yawning and panting along the way. When we got there another half an hour later, we both headed straight for bed.

It is amazing how a puppy can be such a universal pick-me-up for even the most miserable person. I've met more strangers in the past 2 months than I ever have in such a short period of time. Maggie could bring a smile to the face of almost anyone. Even today when we went through the drive-in at McDonald's, the usually bitter window girl piped up a smile and said, "Awww, she's so cute! What a pretty girl." There's just something about Maggie. It's nice to know that people do have that spark of warmth in them somewhere, even if they disguise it during the busy hours of the daily grind.

So all in all the trip to the shore went pretty smoothly and I expect we'll be heading there again soon. Maggie will share some seashore photos with you tomorrow. :)

There really are two new photos plus a list of Important Life Lessons from Maggie in honor of her Three Month Birthday! So get out your party hat and pay her a visit. I'll see you back here on Monday. Happy Friday!

Look for this button in the future to find Maggie's latest glamour shots posted at Me, Maggie. I should mention that these photos were taken in May so she's already grown 6 inches since then (or so it seems). Gosh how that girl grows. She's a wonder of nature. No wonder dog years are 7 times faster than ours. I guess that makes her 21 months old tomorrow instead of 3! Sounds about right. Now that she's going to be 3 months old we probably will no longer refer to her age in weeks, but rather in months. My goodness. Slow down!

©2004 Catherine Erin Hamilton

Got snacks?

Not much time to post today, Miss Maggie accompanied me to work in the afternoon and has kept me pretty busy since then. Now that she's finally sleeping it's time to get in the car... not one of her favorite places. Not at all. I've tried to tell her that ALL dogs love car rides (well almost, but don't mention anything to her about the ones that car sick) and that soon enough she'll be sticking her head out the window, tongue flapping in the wind like the best of them. Til then she must stay confined in her "cave" with her fuzzy friends. And until then she'll keep on whining. She's giving a whole new meaning to the word. You thought I was bad? Ha!

Time to take her to Andrew's hockey game. This should be interesting. And I can't complain.

More pictures on Me, Maggie coming Thursday.

I was trying to think of something funny to write today but my material just fizzed out on me. Whatcha gonna do. So this will just be random train-of-thought freewriting.

Today work doesn't suck so much because I am not doing any bad drawings. I am scanning images, typing emails for CEO, FedExing PR stuff, and placing a Staples order for more Starbucks coffee (though I am trying to cut back on that... been enjoying some Yerba Mate instead. Quite good, actually). Though none of this sounds very creative I am happy for the break in drawing-crap-on-demand to do some mindless, less stressful work. No one is hovering over my shoulder, I am trusted to be doing something on the computer and I can scan my favorite blogs in between photo scans. Because I am at the computer I continuously glance at the clock in the upper right, counting down the minutes until I leave to go home and visit Maggie for our lunchtime leisure time. I am relieved not to be in the "brainstorming" meeting in the next room with CEO and His Mom because anything that comes out of my brain is always instantly rejected, then 2 weeks later it comes up again as a new idea that CEO just thought of. And his version of my idea is convoluted and distorted and all crapped out. Then I must listen to the direction that CEO gives me for the now horrible but fiercely-defended idea and draw it while my sense of aesthetics cringes, gags and drops dead until I am done the drawing and must send it off to China to be manufactured for $1, sold eventually for $100 (if indeed anyone buys it--I certainly wouldn't). So you see, checking off varieties of coffee and coffee-mate, then hitting "Submit Order" is a welcome escape into mundanity.

Staples actually has a great deal that I should take advantage of at home. If you place an order over $50 it will be delivered overnight free of charge. That's a sweet deal, especially when you can buy a whole lot of "office" necessities there, including large clumsy things like 20 packs of paper towels, toilet paper and napkins, large plastic tubs of pretzels and other snacks, sketchbooks and other art supplies. Place one of these orders and you can save yourself from many emergency toilet paper runs on weeknights when you'd rather stay home. This could easily fit into my new time-saving and recentered way of living.

What did not fit into my new so-called lifestyle were the 1.5 bottles of Chardonnay we drank last night. They do fit into my efforts to find more time to spend with my husband doing our favorite things (dinner, wine, and a movie on the couch). That's my excuse.

Here we are, Monday again. This weekend was full of Maggieness and relaxation. Saturday I test drove a VW Beetle Convertible (my dream machine, in aquarius blue) because Andrew thinks it is time we trade in my 2 year old Freelander. It has had a few too many problems for a "new," not-so-cheap car. Plus we could use smaller car payments. We are starting to cut back on extras because the budget is getting ever so tight. It is strange because we don't think we're spending any more than we did this time last year, and we're both making more than we did this time last year, yet we are running out of cash a week before the next paycheck comes in. Not good. Stressful. We're getting way to dependent on our American Express, which has to be paid off every month, so that's one more bill that has to go out the following month and so on... we haven't been this tight since, oh, before our wedding. Luckily I'll have some freelance checks coming in soon and that should help us catch up a bit, but I also want to start saving a "safety net" fund that I can use when I leave the 9 to 7 world. It might take a while.

In the meantime, I'm onto my next new task in Living Your Joy--recentering myself, regaining my focus. It's weird how every word in this chapter rings true with me right now. I have been so scattered lately. I have an intimidating list of to-dos that throws me into a cycle of beginning things and then getting distracted with the next thing. And of course I'm wondering why I can't seem to get anything done by trying to do everything at once. According to Suzanne what I need to do is concentrate on one task at a time through to completion. If that seems impossible I need to strip away all the extras that beg for my attention (volunteer jobs, family dramas, weaknesses such as caffeine and alcohol) and devote myself to whatever it is that I need to do to support the dream, or my "Joy." That way making time for my Joy is going to be alot easier and less stressful, leaving me feeling less selfish and less drained. There are also other ways to do this such as abstaining from watching television (especially the news), snack binges, lengthy telephone calls, and so on.

So this week I am going to try to cut down on caffeine and alcohol, and drink more water instead. I try to do this on occasion but never very seriously with any particular goal in mind. In this case it is to help me become more centered so that I can concentrate better on the main task at hand: get out of the "temp" job and move on to something better (whether that be a different full-time job or just more and more freelance). The other suggestion in the book I'd like to try but never have is Yoga. I've tried Tae Kwon Do and it really wasn't my style--you'd think I was training with Neo for the Matrix. It was tough. But Yoga, the way she describes it, sounds a bit more my tempo. I've just discounted it in the past because whenever yoga class let out at the gym the locker room was full of older women talking about their "center" and other new-agey things that made me squirm. I guess it makes more sense once you experience it. But do I have time? Can anyone recommend a good yoga lesson series on DVD?

Zenguin ©2004 Catherine Erin Hamilton

(That's a female dog reference there. In case you almost got offended.)

Two projects down, 3 pending projects to go. I finished my future sister-in-law's "Save the Date" cards today, only a month late. I don't think I'll be doing her wedding invitations. But look how pretty:



This was a fun project, I wish I could do more like it. I guess I could in the future. First things first. I got an ad done for my nice clients as well, but that one kept me up late so I don't love it quite as much. Plus there was no watercolor involved.

One of my favorite things about making things, drawing and painting, is when I have an idea in my head and during the production of this idea I doubt that it will ever turn out, but in the end it looks better than I imagined it. I get a great deal of pleasure out of that. Which is why I often toot my own horn when I finish a project. And then I look for others to toot as well. Toot toot toot, there just isn't enough tooting in this world. Tooting is a positive, nourishing thing. Of course I am a little on the insecure side (little--ha!) so I may require more tootage that the average person. But the average person could always use a little more tooting if you ask me.

Tonight Jen comes to pick up her "Save the Dates" and we will share strawberry daquiris out back on the patio. I cannot wait. At last a night to relax.

I wrote an email to Maggie's breeder to thank her for such a fun adorable dog. I also asked for some advice on getting that girl to do her business in a timely manner (she likes to dilly dally--like me). I mentioned that Maggie constantly tests our limits and never allows a dull moment. And sure enough, her breeder replied, "I knew that one was gonna be a little pisser!" Yes she did, she did mention it when we picked Maggie out. Maggie apparently was quite the teat monster when it came to feeding time. I'm surprised she was a runt from the stories I've heard of her tenacity for nursing. But who could ever deny that face?

Check out her page. More pics tomorrow (She can only scan so many in a day). Today's post features one of her best friends, Foxy.

I'm late
I'm late
For a very important date
No time to say "Hello!" "Goodbye!"
I'm late I'm late I'm late!
When I wave
I lose the time I save
My fuzzy nose and whiskers took me
too much time to shave
I run and then I hop hop hop
I wish that I could fly.
There's danger if I dare to stop
and here's the reason why you see I'm
Overdue
I'm in a rabbit stew
No time to say "hello!" "goodbye!"
I'm late I'm late I'm late!

I don't know why this song has stuck with me so long, maybe because I sing it so often, so many times since the 70s when I was the big sister in first grade attending my younger sister's pre-school performance of Alice In Wonderland. I find myself humming this song in my head whenever I am hopelessly rushing around, speeding down the highway, walking in somewhere much later than expected. Truth be told, I have a horrible sense of time. It is the way it has always been, even as a fetus in my mother's womb. My mom's joke has always been, "She was born two weeks late, and has been late for everything ever since!" Funny, but true. My husband says that when he asks me, "how long before you're ready?" he takes whatever my answer it is and doubles it, and counts on that being the truer timeframe. Similarly, when I try to estimate how long a freelance job will take me, I usually estimate half of the time I actually need. I really think that, say, a logo might take me 8 hours to design. Invariably, however, it takes me 16 hours. Always double. Sometimes worse.

So right now I have alot of projects going on, a few of them are paying jobs so I must get them done. Money is a great incentive. But then a deadline is also a great push for me too. If I don't have a deadline--set by someone else--I dilly dally, I find excuses, I run, I hide from whatever it is. Everything I have going on right now has a deadline... perhaps unreasonable deadlines, but deadlines. I am surrounded by deadlines. The less fun a project will be to complete, the closer its deadline is--leaving me with all the fun projects at the end. If I can just get through all the pending projects I can then have fun. But I want fun now!

I think I am experiencing one of those "be careful what you wish for" scenarios where I wished for more freelance (so that I could quit my day job) and now I am getting it left and right, almost too much to handle. On the same note, it is not enough money to allow me to quit yet so I must divide my time between two places with no wiggle room in between. No down time. No relax time. When I do take a few miniutes my mind is racing on what I should be doing next and how will I ever get this all done if I don't get back to it NOW. And then there are the distractions; the email, the blogs, the tv, the dog, the house, that complicate my concentration. Oh, speaking of the dog, did I mention that Maggie is scanning some new pictures for her blog as I speak?


Hey, you still have time for me, right?

Anyway, this is an explanation as to why I have not commmented in others' blogs or responded quickly to emails lately. I am trying to heed the advice in Living Your Joy that says I should cut back on email, surfing, etc. to make time for the Dream. There is a whole chapter on how to gain hours and hours a month by simplifying less important things. Food shopping online, having dry cleaning delivered, making meals that create leftovers, cutting back the length of email messages, doing work before even looking at emails, hiring a housecleaner, getting up earlier, cutting back primping time before work... well no, none of it sounds easy, and it probably won't be until I am used to it. I am adding "cutting back on blogging" in there too. I could spend hours doing this and browsing others.

Ok, I am falling asleep at my desk here (no time for a proper full night's sleep) so I had better go walk outside a bit and inhale some fresh honeysuckle air and sunshine.

It's been such a busy day that I forgot to eat lunch. Like, actually forgot. Didn't cross my mind. Never thought about it until just now, at 4:35 in the afternoon when my stomach finally screamed, "You forgot about ME!" My lunch break was full of the usual Maggie time and a tall glass of chocolate milk. I guess the milk held me over for a few hours because I never brought my planned chicken burrito from Trader Joe's out the door with me when I returned to work. Let's see, what's for dinner...

I am also functioning on minimal sleep again, as late night freelance work kept me from dreamland until 2:30 am. 2:30 is truly my limit. After that the Evil Birds of Early Morning wake up and start their raucous. Not that I don't love birds, but you know, what kind of bird needs to sing so loudly at 3 in the morning? What could they possibly do in the dark? Surely the worms aren't even awake yet for breakfast. So what gives? The birds have stumped me.

Speaking of birds, due to the arrival of the dear Maggie I have been neglecting my birds again. They are out of seed, their bath needs to be cleaned, and the hummingbirds have absolutely nothing waiting for them to suck on. What to do. On the way home I must pick up some things at Petco (including something to take the horrible stench out of Maggie's coat, the stench she loved so much she rolled herself all over it. It was really cute--til I smelt it). I know Petsmart has backyard birdseed, but does Petco? Don't bother answering that, I'll find out when I get there. I'm being lazy.

So rambling on, with two rushed freelance projects down, now it's time to wait for the checks to roll in. That might be the most torturous part of freelance. Not knowing when the money is going to get there, and having to wait for it, compulsively checking the mailbox at inappropriate times of day and night. Funny how the project needs to be done ASAP but the money never comes ASAP, never at the instant that you need it most. Even with a due date or deadline.

But no complaints, it is Friday and I am so so so very happy about that. That, and the nice cold bottles of Pinot Grigio that await me in the refridgerator, with husband and puppy standing nearby. Happy weekend!

On my way to and from my Maggie break today I was listening to Coldplay's Parachutes with all the windows down and all the sunroofs open (yes there are two) in the loaner Discovery, cruising at high speeds over hilly dippity woodland roads surrounded by green filtered sunlight and the aroma of fresh white honeysuckles. Intoxicating.

1: relating to, caused by, or being interference between previous learning and the recall or performance of later learning {proactive inhibition of memory}
2: acting in anticipation of future problems, needs, or changes "Kate became increasingly proactive as her efforts yielded increasingly promising results."

Whewwwwwee, boy am I tired. Up late late late last night working on two rush freelance projects--all the while throwing my socks around the room in a frenzy trying to keep the Mags out of trouble. She got to crash at 1am, lucky girl, while I fought repeated headnods until 2:30am. I remember the days of art school when staying up that late was the norm. Now it completely dehabilitates me the next day. Especially when the next day involves waking at 5am for a puppy pee trip, then 7am for puppy's wakey wakey romp in the yard. Did I really sleep at all last night? Luckily, Maggie makes the red eyes worth it. Plus, the freelance, if it keeps up, could be my dream coming true. It doesn't seem so bad in that light.

And I got a brand new scanner out of it. I needed a scanner to complete my assignment for my old toy designing buddies. At the very last minute I called a local computer store and asked them to put aside an Epson Perfection 4878 Photo Scanner. Then my very accomodating hubby stopped at the store and picked it up for me on his way home from work. By the time I got home I had a very waggy Maggie and a big fat scanner box sitting at my feet. I can't tell you how exciting it is to get a new piece of hardware for my studio. This means no more sneaking scans in at the day job, saved to borrowed ZIP disks and smuggled home. This equals a quarter less stress around my freelance ventures.

In other news, Maggie has inspired not only an essay on grass but now a children's book on grass, featuring none other than her royal self. A dummy (roughly sketched draft) of this book is the newest item on my To Do list, and I am very, very excited about it. Perhaps this will break my thick wall of fear around writing my own picture books. The very thought of it has stirred a few sleepy stories that have been hibernating in my noggin. I hear them whispering, "You mean she might finally do it? Will she do it? Could she finally set us free? Oh happy day..." They're whispering so as not to scare off the thought of it all.

A list I will compile throughout the day.

1. In a sensible article at Fear of Writing.com, author Milli Thornton tells me that it's ok to hire a housekeeper to help me find time for my art and writing. Thank you, Milli.

2. I get to drive a Land Rover Discovery as a loaner car today (mmm, fancy) while my little guy gets his auto guts torn out, replaced and sewn up again.

3. Lunchtime is Maggie time.

4. Happy supportive feedback from numerous exciting sources on my Grass essay! "Could it become a children's book...?"

To Be Continued...

Maggie holds a wealth of knowledge at her young age of 9 weeks. She teaches me something new almost every day. Her latest lesson?

How to Enjoy Grass
an essay by Kate, inspired by Maggie the Beagle

Grass is a wonderfully soft thing, a living carpet that passes on its energy. It lies there waiting for you to come experience it and let its energy in.

The grass knows it is meant to be walked in barefoot. Feel it glide between your toes. Lay belly down in it, let it mold to the shape of your body. Prop your chin on your arm and watch it quiver in the breeze. Put your nose right in it and take a deep breath. Inhale the grassy goodness. Take a bite and taste it if you're feeling curious. Then spit it out and try another.

Find a sunny spot and let the grass reflect the sun on your skin. Let it embrace you and warm you like an electric blanket. Then roll over to a shady spot. Enjoy the cool dampness of the grass and its soil below. Roll over onto your back and tilt your head back as far as you can. See the grass as your sky and the sky as your ground. Raise your feet above your head and try to walk on the clouds.

Listen to the grass. The grass sings in a whisper, like the air that runs through a cello. It tinkles with the windchimes. It catches and changes the subtle tones of the breeze.

Note the fluffy flowers the grass makes. The wheaty little heads hold seeds of more grass. They tremble with the slightest movement, vibrating in the force of your breath.

Search the grass for tiny camouflaged creatures. See that transparent green bug blend right in. Watch him climb to the peak of a blade and catch some sun. You would never see him if you didn't come down to Beagle nose level and roll around in a bed of soft grass.

Every blade of grass
has its angel that bends over it
and whispers, "Grow, grow."
-The Talmud