There’s something about seeing this press in my kitchen every morning that turns me on and wakes me up. I mean really. It’s like I feel ONE with her!
She has helped me over some rough spots lately, and now we’re ready to show off the results. Hope you can visit the Fredericksburg Literary Book Festival this Saturday from 10-5. There will be a wonderful assortment of artists, authors, and book arts lovers. I’ll have some of my favorite cards and prints, too. I’ll be in the red tent at A1 :)
I have a dear, young friend who has breast cancer. She has finished chemo and is beginning radiation. I am inspired by her sweet heart and lovely outlook on life.
When she started losing her hair, she shaved flowers into a design to decorate her head. When her hair finally all fell out, she painted bright colors all over her head.
When I see her, I think: “you have a beautiful head and heart.” And she does.
Cancer treatment is expensive, even with insurance. I wanted to do something for her, so I created this card (collaborating with artist Lynette Reed on the design). Every penny from the sale of this card will go to the young woman’s cancer fund. I have also eliminated the shipping charges on Etsy.
I hope you’ll find a reason to send this to a friend, knowing your contribution of $5 will also go to a wonderful young woman.
I’ve been busy.
For me, fall is a time of renewal, a time of new beginnings.
This must come from my teaching background. September meant new students, new classes, and second chances– for us all.
As a printer, I am experimenting with products (postcards) and color (spray painting my cards before printing!)
That last tip came from a quick conversation with an artist in town (thanks, Gabe). I am hopeful the color backgrounds will provide a creative collection for me.
One thing I won’t get away from is making cards that matter to me. And, as always, I hope they matter to you, too.
Have a great fall!
I’ve decided I am an emotional person.
Ok, I’ve known it all along. But lately I seem to have trouble keeping the tears from filling my eyes. Last night, they didn’t fall, but I had a lump in my throat all evening.
We went to see Chicago, a band I fell in love with in college in the early 70’s. I was prepared to be disappointed. Last month we heard another “oldie” in concert, and unfortunately she had lost her voice and her enthusiasm for performing.
The evening started under gray, cloudy skies that opened up as we stood in line for 30 minutes. Our paper bag (dumb idea) melted as David tried to juggle our sandwiches, chips, and wine, the picnic we had planned to eat outdoors at Wolf Trap before the concert. By the time we were able to enter the gates, we were soaked. Luckily we found a bench to spread our mostly wet towel on.
I was seconds away from saying, “let’s go home,” when the sun came out. We stayed, and I’m so glad I did.
From the minute the horns started, I could feel myself awash in memories. Of college. Of boyfriends. Of broken hearts and best friends. Music does that to me. The tears didn’t fall, but watching these guys in their 60’s blast fabulous music made me feel a little younger– and appreciative that they are still giving it their all.
It made me believe I can too.