Nesting

This is the kitchen project we just finished.  I designed it all with enthusiastic agreement from Tom and the boys.  I think I'm fixing up my heart for the next chapter.
....

I'm home with a sick boy today... not sure if he's more sick in his body or in his spirit, but a moment of being still never hurt anyone.  And here I am being still, taking the time to tiptoe around my sure-to-feel-neglected blog.  I'm writing, quite certain that whoever used to follow my writing has long since moved on to other trails through the woods, but knowing that this matters.

I've spent the day doodling and exploring the blogs and work of other artists, artists who manage to put more time, more drama into their creating.  I've felt inspired enough today to plan out the shelf-lets I want to build in the library to display our printed Instagram photos and the prints of Marcus' incredible panoramics that he took in Home Depot.  I've drawn a kookie bird covered in feathers and flair.  And here I've dusted off the track that used to be my blog.

It's odd because I fee like I'm writing to an old friend that I lost touch with and now, as a form of apology and earnest vow of love, I feel the need to write down all the things I thought of writing over the last few months... about how I'd like to write a book for teenagers but I'm not sure what about, something about showing them that they are not the first or only people to live a life like theirs... about how I've tried to help a formerly homeless student get re-enrolled in high school and stay there, about how angry he is at his entire world, but how hopeful and curious he is, too ... about Marcus seeming lonely at school and not challenged in the areas he loves best... about my personal drive to help him get better at math so he isn't wary of doing it... about Jackson getting so big I can only reach the top of his head with my mommy lips if I bend his neck a tiny bit... about how much it stinks to be cold all the time... about how I'm sometimes bored out of my skull at work... about how having good ideas to make something work ISN'T the same as being creative all the time, and how being efficient is a far cry from being artistic... about how sometimes the only artistic part of my day happens when I'm getting dressed in the morning... how I'd like to call myself a compassioneer.

Those two days of 60+ degrees days we had earlier this week re-awakened the little bulb of creative spirit that's been tucked away for a few months and I'm feeling driven to be clearer about when I'm going to make things.

There's no story in this entry... this one is for me... to capture this tiny moment of stillness in a hurry scurry life I happily call mine.  This entry is to capture my turning inward to prepare for our friends to move 1200 miles away.  This entry is to remind me that inspiration does come again and again and again, like an ocean wave pushed back to see by my deceptively powerless hands.