A Month of Pictures

I have no idea what day this is. I DO know I've been woefully remiss with my daily updates.

Here's what I've been up to. I either really dig it or really hate it. I haven't decided yet.

A Month of Pictures - Kidden!

A Month of Pictures - My World (Thoughts on Irene)

This sketch was one I started while The Boyfriend™, Trolls and I were back home, in June. We were enjoying the first of two or three idyllic days - just enough sun, not too hot - taking it easy after having driven for two days. The Trolls, of course, were antsy after having been cooped up in the car for far too long, so I decided to take us all to a local swimming hole at The Pumping Station.

The river was far too cold for adults (and barely warm enough for two Trolls used to the bathwater-like temperatures of the Gulf of Mexico), but we Were enjoying the energy of the moment and the fresh air.

As The Trolls dared each other to get in the water first (and tried goading The Boyfriend™ and me in, too), I got out my sketchbook to capture the covered bridge that ran the spance of that stretch of the river. My sketch time was short-lived, though, because we were soon off to other adventures, but I didn't think too much of it. In fact, I remember thinking "I'll finish this the next time I'm here", not realizing that very soon the bridge wouldn't be there for me to sketch again.

It's just a bridge, but it's also a piece of history - of MY history. Of thousands of people's histories. Generations of kids - including my own - swam under that bridge. Generations of kids made out with each other in the cozy confines of that bridge - including The Boyfriend™ and me. Every year, a new group of adolescents dared each other to sit in that bridge and wait for the ghost of Eunice Williams.

The bridge is gone now. Washed away during the flooding brought on by Irene. It makes me sad. I won't get to finish this sketch, while sitting on the banks of the river underneath it.

I suppose I'm being dramatic - a covered bridge washing away is by no means comparable to the levies breaking after katrina. But that a piece of history is gone. A thing that has always been there - part of the fabric of my life - is gone.

If nothing else, the urgency to get back home is even stronger. I don't want anymore unfinished sketches in my book.

A Month of Photos - My world... Day... Something

I've been remiss in this month of thing. I blame The Boyfriend™. Actually, no. I don't. He's been a damn dream putting up with me. My head has been such a CF lately and I've been taking out a LOT of baggge on him. Ahem.

Here's hoping he forgives me. LOL!

And here's a photo from back home. Where the Two Year Plan will come to fruition for us.

A Month of Pictures - My World, Days 12 &13

OK... So it's only one picture, but the ominous green glow in it should count for something.

My head, she is not a happy place these days. I can't get out of my own way. I keep trying to claw my way out of the hole, but it's like free climbing a shale wall: it looks like a solid foot hold, but it'll crumble the second you put any weight on it.

I know it'll pass. Off and on, my whole life, I've dealt with mild depression. I won't say that my coping mechanisms have gotten better with age, but at least I recognize that when the wall is crumbling, I need to stop - just for a minute - and examine why. The only way out is through.

Upside: I do some pretty amazing work during these periods. So I turn to my brushes and pots of ink and canvas... And I process. I let the canvas speak for me.

A Month of Pictures - My World, Day 12

The Boyfriend™ teaching the The Nugget how to play chess. My heart, it's melting!!!!

A Month of Pictures - My World, Day 11

(Apparently yesterday was day 10).

The Trolls having a last-day-of-summer-vacation swim.

I joined them in their pool mayhem shortly after this picture was taken. While it's a man made, chlorinated pool, there is something about the water - even this kind - that soothes my soul and calms me down a bit. I must remember to honor my mermaid half a tad more.