she was paying attention after all
my daughter sent this to me from palo alto. you always wonder whether anything you’re doing really rubs off on your kids, or whether they are simply the product of the workings of genetics. after six years of still blog i would have said that she supported what i was doing, was maybe vaguely proud of a mom who had forged a mid-life artistic career, and sometimes loved, sometimes hated our occasional creative collaborations. but yesterday my girl noticed a white sky, and knew right away what to do with it. today’s still blog honors her generosity in sharing a still blog moment with me from halfway across the continent.
palm tree on stanford campus
what i see in this asymmetrical ink blot are veins and arteries and blood clots because i just heard a story from my husband about a client of his who had a stroke last year. i doubt that herr rorschach would find this psychologically indicative of anything except the fact that i just got an hour of my husband’s time over a glass of wine in the middle of tax season, and i’m happy about it. though not, of course, happy about the client with the stroke. of course i’m not happy about that. why would you think that would make me happy? do you really think i would be happy about such a thing? you don’t even know me. why are you analyzing me like this? i’m fine. i’m totally normal. omg, leave me alone.
winter sunflower stems and seed heads
my husband and i are possibly the worst clippers of our dog’s toenails that can be imagined. either we clip his nails too long and he clickety clicks his way painfully across our wood floors for weeks, or we clip them too short and he bleeds endlessly from the quick of one of his rear toes, despite all of the compacted corn starch we shove into the wound to stanch the flow. all i’m saying is that whoever clipped this dinosaur’s toenails knew what the bleep he was doing.
keeping it fresh
i try very deliberately to surprise my husband on a regular basis. not in big showy ways, but it in little ways–buying a food we’ve never tried, taking a new scenic route on a routine trip, picking up books at the library on subjects we know nothing about, etc. he always looks at me out of the corner of his eye when i do this and i smile and say “just keeping it fresh”. i also try to keep it fresh here on STILL blog too. i deliberately mix up the posts (single-subject, assemblages, gridded, messy, etc). i get a little thrill when i am posting something that i know will be entirely unexpected–like twelve daddy longlegs (here) or a portrait of my son joseph (here). i hope i am successful at this. i hope your morning visit to STILL contains both the reassurance of something beloved and the little thrill of suspense that there might be something unexpected in the offing.
the other day, i pulled out a cookbook we use a lot when we are in southern france–LuLu’s Provencal Table. as i was leafing through it, i happened on this dried stem i had tucked into the book the last time we were there (about a year ago now). i had used the book as a leaf press. it was not at all what i expected to find on the page describing grilled sardines. i guess i was just keeping it fresh.
pressed tamarind leaf
long lost friends
i was playing with these four leaves and at some point they just ignored me and snuggled up together on my desk. i didn’t introduce them. they had apparently known each other for a long time, and had been apart for far too long, and had a lot of catching up to do.
four dried leaves