This is where I post my greeting cards, my animal companions, random pictures I take around the coastal area... who knows! Stop in, see what the post of the day holds for you. Blessings! chaotic
Entry for Creative Challenge 21
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Playing with my scrap bin today after trip to Texas.... have to get the scraps down to a manageable level so using oddball pieces here and there...
the title is also my reason for not posting in a month.. .geez!! I am working in a field where the average worrk week is SUPPOSED to be 3 days... try FIVE. and when those days are anywhere from 11-15 hours, you dont really wnat to work them all in a row... not even back to back. Yet, that is what we are currently having to do. We are short 2 technicians... one transferred to a unit closer to home, the other moved out of state when spouse was transferred due to job. ARGH. so, rather than complain, I will share with you a response to one of my art groups where the question was posed "HOw do you store your paper?" And, if you know me (why else are you reading this?) then you know that I have a somewhat serious paper addiction. No, I do not want help with it or a 12 step program. I am well aware of my addiction to paper and I embrace it! LOL Here you go:: I am a tad OCD in my paper habit... argh. I store 12x12s in the IRIS scrapper containers on wheels...there are 6 clos...
I’m not replacing hustle with another aesthetic version of productivity. I’m not optimizing my rest or monetizing my healing. What I’m doing in 2026 is practicing—slowly, imperfectly—ways of living that don’t require me to be in constant pursuit mode. Here’s what that looks like right now. I’m practicing pace. Letting things take the time they take. Leaving margin. Choosing “not yet” more often than “push through.” I’m practicing embodied yeses and noes. Listening to my body before my calendar. Noticing where tension appears when I agree to something—and honoring that information. I’m practicing enoughness. Stopping at “good and sufficient” instead of polishing myself into exhaustion. Letting “done” be a form of care. I’m practicing work that doesn’t hurt me. Not pain-free, not perfect—but work that doesn’t demand constant self-betrayal as the price of admission. I’m practicing creativity as nourishment. Writing, journaling, making, and mending without asking whether i...
I’m not starting 2026 with a manifesto. No word of the year. No demand that I become sharper, faster, or more impressive by spring. No declaration of the goals that I “must” do, then accounting for them (done or not). I’m starting the year the way I start most things now: by listening. Listening to my body, to the whispers on the wind, and to the voices in my mind. The last few years taught me that reinvention isn’t loud. It’s patient. You don’t burn your old life down—you compost it. You let what’s been survive long enough to feed what comes next. I’ve lived so many versions of myself. Some were polished. Some were exhausted. Some were trying very hard to fit inside systems that never fit back. Some of them almost died. Yet, all of them belonged. All of them brought me here. Eventually, you can read more about those versions in my book (when I publish!). This year, I’m interested in sustainability—not as a slogan, but as a bodily truth. The kind that asks: What do I want ...
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