#uncoffeed...

I miss knowing every inch of his face, its bone structure, the thinness of his skin.  I miss his funny walk and the surprising strength of his core. I miss the smell of leather and Head-and-Shoulders in his long, thick hair which he somehow could tuck up into a baseball cap.  I miss the way his eyes darted to each side before that inevitable barb rolled off his tongue. He was a master of subtle timing; even he didn't understand that.  His nature erupted into everything he did, from playing guitar to tenderly nursing plant cuttings. Housewives and band groupies called him for his meatloaf recipe, but he took real pride in chocolate eclairs. My kids refused to eat them so he retired, devastated, into the neighbor room.   Some things aren't meant to be gotten over.  Everything still exists, somewhere; nothing is linear, not really. So, you see, it's okay to say no. Nobody should ever say yes until they are comfortable knowing there is no competiti...

I've been exposing my authentic self by working on art in public. Recently I took a booth at a restaurant so I could eat and keep working. People stopped intermittently to compliment my work, and I said, "Thank you!"  And I meant it, and I didn't get all awkward, even when someone wanted to discuss further. I Advanced the Discussion. Gimme a patch for that. Sunday morning I checked into Beanetics  for a French Press, a pastry, and a table to work. This is where the magic happened. The little Barista-chick who likes my illustrations is leaving; next Saturday is her last day making our coffee. We - she, I, and the other regulars - joked about getting matching coffee bean tattoos on our wrists. The Scottish guy doing genealogy work at the next table was polite or uninterested, but a dancer named Heidi leaned in close to check the detail of my work. Her mom appeared later and asked whether Heidi had seen my work; yes, she had. Heidi's mom is named Margi, h...