wyld_dandelyon: (Polychrome Wizard)
It should cross-post, but in case it doesn't, here's a link: http://wyld-dandelyon.dreamwidth.org/247348.html

Happy New Year everybody!

Random Art

Dec. 7th, 2015 08:32 pm
wyld_dandelyon: (Polychrome Wizard)
So, I picked a more-or-less random stranger over on Flight Rising and did a portrait of one of their dragons as a surprise holiday gift. Since FR posts don't make it easy to share art that's not posted somewhere, I'm posting it somewhere!



To PinkiePastel: Rynzin struck me as more of a lover than a fighter, and maybe a bit of a dancer. I hope you like the portrait!
wyld_dandelyon: (Polychrome Wizard)
So I got up last week and wanted to wear shorts and something sleeveless (but not one of my fringed t-shirts, which are fun, but not so much when I'm out with garden snips). The urge to shorts was prompted by the fact that controlling blood sugar has led to a somewhat thinner me, enough so that my skirts that used to be out of the way now are loose enough to hang low on my hips and be in danger of being stepped on going up stairs or trying to use a large shovel. (Also, cutting all the gluten and corn out of my diet means I'm not always afraid that putting on something that's tight around my belly will end up being painful or exacerbating gastrointestinal discomfort. I still love skirts and dresses, but other things are less likely to be uncomfortable now.)

Now, I could do a bit of sewing and put new waistbands on the skirts, but that takes time and is only worth the effort on skirts that I plan to wear for something more fun than digging up weed trees, painting my porch, and pulling smaller weeds. So I got in the car and drove to the thrift store, where I gathered a bag of cool things (some cool in terms of summer comfort only, and others cool in terms of being styles I am very pleased to wear. I then came home, my head full of images of the kinds of clothes that I can now fit into or will soon be able to fit into if I keep losing weight, and attacked my closet, pulling out quite a few things that are now too big and relegating them to a new destiny, that of being heartlessly abandoned at the thrift store.

It's not as if I didn't know, before, that I had reached a size where a lot of the fun clothes I love just weren't made in my size, but that knowledge didn't inspire me to eat differently.

You know, I always would have told you that I cared more about my brains than my looks, but didn't realize the proof would be so easily acquired once a doctor told me I had blood sugar problems and I realized (by changing my diet drastically in the weeks before I could get a new primary doc and get that treated medically) that the high blood sugar was affecting my higher brain function. I am writing more now, because my brain is once again holding all the bits needed to shape a story properly; heck, I can even see the difference in my facebook comments!

I'm well aware of the dangers of diabetes--I have a friend whose mantra in the gym, repeated rhythmically, is, "I want to keep my feet." Not getting the blood sugar under control is not an option if I want to continue to be able to walk and do art and see. But bringing it down had an unexpected and immediate effect on my mental acuity that (in my mind) trumped all of those other things. Now, when I look at simple carbs, it's a lot like looking at wheat and corn--when I feel tempted, I think of the results of eating the way I used to and the temptation vanishes. I do sometimes feel sad, but not tempted. I have no doubt at all that it's not worth the consequences. That never happened when I looked at cute dresses and thought it would be nice to be thinner so I could wear them. I guess I have my priorities!

But that doesn't keep me from enjoying packing away all the fat lady dresses (wait--where did that phrase come from? Oh, never mind, it's apt enough, and I'm not judging anybody, not even my former self) into plastic grocery bags and then into the trunk of my car. It also doesn't keep me from feeling glee at going through the old clothes I couldn't fit into but couldn't bear to get rid of (after washing the attic mustiness away) and finding I fit into clothes that haven't been seen on my body since before I became a Mom. Some of those are going into the trunk too, but a lot are going into drawers or my closet so I can enjoy them again.

And as I look at all of the clothes, I'm seeing them differently in other ways too. All the drab office casual stuff that served as a work costume, telling people I was competent and serious and professional, all that can go now, since I'm aiming to be a totally different kind of professional, one where a drab disguise isn't necessary. Not that I wasn't professional and competent and taking people's legal issues seriously, of course I was--and still am--all of those things. But I am so much more than that, and there's joy in embracing that as well.

Later this week, after I finish going through the stuff I dragged down from the attic, I'll take a trunkload (or more--the trunk is nearly full already) of stuff to the thrift store. I hope those clothes will bring someone else joy, as they did me when I needed them, but even if no one else wants them, I'm glad to be giving them away. I have no regrets and no doubts about moving into a future without them.

And that's pretty cool, in and of itself.
wyld_dandelyon: (guitar gloves)
In fact, I can see it from my window. How cool is that? I won't get to watch the whole thing--the moon will drop below the horizon all too soon. Still, I got to see it with my eyes, and without the intermediary of a computer or television screen.

That's something I couldn't do during the last few eclipses due to cloud cover. I had to satisfy myself with other people's pictures, taken in other parts of the world. But just as there's a special magic in being able to do that, there's also a special magic in being able to see it here.

(pause for sleepy moon-watching)

So, I had to go to the attic eventually, since the moon dropped behind the houses across the street, and then watched it vanish--not at totality, really, just slivered to the point where the pre-dawn light and the tree limbs between me and it obscured it quite handily.

(pause to watch the total eclipse online, and to fall asleep on the couch, to be awakened by the wise advice that it's better to sleep in bed, and by a day's work of chores and errands)

I wonder, if I could live forever, or at least for thousands of years, would I reach a point where I was bored by things like eclipses, or tulips opening in the spring, or the taste of a perfectly ripe strawberry?

I don't mean, if I reach a point where I can't see or smell the perfect beauty of the first rose of spring, and can't taste the butter melting into my potato, and can't enjoy sleeping and waking due to pain and infirmity--it's not boredom if the body can't take in things properly, that's something else altogether.

But would I get bored if I were perfectly healthy, but had just experienced so many meals and flowers and strange phenomena that I didn't care?

I don't think so. It's a very personal answer, of course, but looking back, the times I didn't appreciate the little things as much as I normally do were all times, in retrospect, that I was sick or exhausted (and usually both). And even then, it was more like not seeing the sun rise because of the fog.

You'd think I'd remember this faster, when I'm having trouble focusing and finding the joy in getting things done, with all my experience with chronic illness--but that's the thing about chronic illness, it's sneaky. It's not like breaking your leg, it's like an eclipse. Things seem perfectly normal, then just a little off, and you never quite see a moment of discontinuity, a moment when there's a big change, it's just at some point, you realize not only have things been changing, but the change is dramatic and significant.

And unlike the eclipse, chronic health issues don't just go away. You have to do something about them.

But that's another post altogether.

This post is about appreciating the good things in life--the playfulness of a cat, the taste of halapeno jack cheese, the green smell of spring returning to the world, and soon, the soft gold of dandelions in the sun.

And stories--stories of cats and dragons and magic, of love and truth and kindness, and always, always, stories of people.

But for tonight--check out that moon! Isn't it cool?
pictures! )
wyld_dandelyon: (Rainbow Margay Mage)
Yet I love Face Off, The Voice, the Jim Henson Creature Shop Challenge, So You Think You Can Dance, and similar shows. It's clear to me that some people would call this a paradox. I've seen facebook rants, generally very well written, that these shows miss the point of creative pursuits, and even that they will give our young people the wrong idea of how to succeed in and even why they might want to engage in creative pursuits.

Yet I grew up hearing, over and over, that people need a "real" college degree and a proper adult career, that the arts, while not valueless, were frivolous or at least not profitable. That artists had to get very lucky to make enough money to eat. The subtext was don't be an artist--artists don't get respect.

And, you know, there are certainly a lot of artists who live sale to sale, and even more who squeeze a tiny bit of art into their spare time, having essentially set their dreams aside to pursue a more lucrative career. Even in this magical future world where the internet lets people go directly to an artist to buy things, it's so very easy to be living the life of an unknown artist, making things and stacking them in a corner to gather dust, and getting no respect from your more conservative friends and relatives.

Enter reality shows. At first, I was more than underwhelmed. Take a bunch of people, put them in a fruitful and marvelous tropical setting, give them meaningless challenges and watch them starve as if there's no food there while being filmed by camera crews that have plenty to eat. All set up as an excuse to get them to scheme and lie and act badly on camera. Ugh. What a waste.

But I was lured in to Face Off by the chance to watch artists work. Oh, sure, the camera focuses on the stupid drama as much as it can, but it still shows people making really cool stuff. It lets them talk about why they make the choices they do, choices about material and color and technique, and then it shows us the results they produce. It shows artists learning from each other. It shows them taking the time to help each other, despite ludicrously short deadlines. The artists are not starved and are not allowed to work 24-hour days, even if they want to.

Additionally, the artists who enter the contest get a chance to meet and get pointers from award-winning professionals and to show off their skills to the world. In a world where the actors get lots of recognition and the artists used to be just names that flashed onscreen while everyone walked out of the theatre, it's a chance for those artists to get some recognition and respect. Sure, it's a contest, but it is more than that. Over and over, the weekly loser says that being on the show was a great experience and they learned a lot. Some come back again in a new season, while others go on to get jobs in the industry.

I've been talking about Face Off, but I see the same thing with singers on The Voice or American Idol, and I see something else too. I see how many of them gain enough fans to get recording contracts and start touring. The big winner is supposed to be the Next Big Name, but even as little as I follow the charts, those other singers (the ones who worked hard before and on the show) go on to be as big or bigger names than the winners.

Being involved in the arts, I know how much of a person's creative career hangs on finding a way to reach the people who like the art you do. You work to be good, better, excellent--but even an excellent story faces a very real chance of rejection from an editor who bought something similar, or who loves the story, but it doesn't fit well with the other stories she received for the anthology, or other similar reasons. You need luck, or to have enough fans that will buy an anthology just because you're in it that the editor wants your name on the cover.

John Denver wrote about being a young musician, sitting with his guitar and aching for people to sing to. He eventually found his audience, but how many people, like Vincent Van Gogh, died before their work became popular? How many writers don't break through because they haven't yet found their "people to sing to"?

So I look at these shows, and I see creative people creating, learning, and finding opportunities to do more of that--and finding ways besides taking a day job to not starve while doing it. I also see audiences who value the creative arts. Those are wonderful things, even if the corporations that run the shows feel a need to add an artificial structure of conflict to the framework of the show. And who knows--maybe that "costume" really does bring more eyes and ears (and wallets) to the performance. I'll forgive the costume because, for me, it's far less important than the heart of the show.

The other reason I love these shows is more personal. I see these people working so hard to create things with the camera on them, and I am inspired. I watch the dance shows and move more--certainly a good thing for my health. I watch the music contests and I sing more--and I get to hear the experts' advice on singing, and learn a bit about one of my own arts. I watch the artists on Face Off and I think, "I could try to do that someday!" and I get a bit more ambitious about my own efforts with paint, sculpey, and costuming. Similarly, I read the Hugo packet and get inspired about my own writing.

I am strongly an adherent of the statement that art is not a zero-sum game. It is not about winning and losing, but winning and winning. It is exactly because art is not a zero-sum game that I love these shows. Regardless of who wins and loses (the Hugos, the Pegasus Awards, The Voice, or whatever awards we are considering), by experiencing the art created by others, my world is enriched. I'm inspired to push myself to create, and to gain more skills, and to seek out ways to sell and share my art, so my own creative endeavors will reach more people. I am also reminded to push myself to excellence so my work will be more satisfying to me as I create it.

No matter how much the producers try to shoehorn the arts into the bitter, futile reality-tv-show format, the arts and the artists showcased cannot and do not fit neatly into that square hole. They remain something that transcends and inspires.
wyld_dandelyon: (Rainbow Margay Mage)
“Can I ask you a question?”

It was a fannish gathering some time ago, long enough ago that we still dreamed there might somehow be a lunar colony in our lifetime. That dream had been one of the topics of conversation that evening.

“Sure.”

“You’re Pagan, right?”

“Yeah.” I never made any secret of that fact in fandom, though I didn’t know why it had come up right then.

“So, you believe the moon is sacred?”

“Well, of course.”

“So, what do you think of people walking around on it, leaving footprints and stuff there?”

“People walk around on the Earth all the time, and that’s sacred too.”

* * *

Tonight, the world (or at least the part of it around me) is veiled in fog, beautiful and mysterious. Fog always makes me think of magic, of choices to make, of dreams that might be made manifest. Fog reminds me that our choices matter. Fog makes me want to dance, even if I don’t have a bonfire to dance around or a drum circle to dance to.

Of course, if I dance, I will leave footprints on the sacred Earth.

But I’ll leave footprints no matter what I do.

Everything we do shapes the world in some small way. Every footprint matters.

I breathe in the fog, raise my arms to the moon overhead, and start to dance, with intent: Let my steps bless the Earth, and let the Earth bless me in return.
wyld_dandelyon: (wigged Deirdre)
It sounds idyllic, doesn't it?

Life is never that simple, of course. Any big accomplishment requires (usually substantial) amounts of just plain hard work, and writing excellent fiction is no exception.

But so much of my life, I've had to go to sleep when my mind and spirit were ready to write, even if my body wasn't ready for sleep, so I could get up before I felt really rested and be awake enough to go sit in somebody else's desk all day being coherent and competent and productive until quitting time.

Mind you, there are many things I like about the day job I chose, since I had to choose one (I am reasonably certain I would have lost fingers to factory work). There are definitely things I will miss about it (the work itself, not just the regular paychecks). These last few days, especially, I've been told I've been doing an excellent job there, and will be missed.

But I have another dream, work that I love more. I have been trying to do this work in my off hours, but with limited success.

And even though I'll doubtless trade the positive performance reviews for a significant proportion of virtual rejection slips, I'm excited to be doing this.

I feel so lucky that I can start to work at making my dreams real in my own "on" hours.
wyld_dandelyon: (cat is ready)
A couple of days ago, I was going to post one of my monster sketches from last weekend, but Live Journal wouldn't let me post. Hopefully that won't be a problem tonight, be cause Elizabeth wrote a poem about the creature in one of my sketches!

So, here is the current sketch of the Unicorn Jelly:
unicornjelly

And here is the link to the poem:  http://ysabetwordsmith.livejournal.com/2836864.html

Finally, we would welcome some new prompts, whether related to Sea Monsters or not.  Of course, you're welcome to come peek in on us as we create or even join us.  http://torn-world.livejournal.com/151363.html
wyld_dandelyon: (Guitar Angel)
I journeyed for far too long through far too much snow and traffic, leaving early to arrive late at Capricon, where I was scheduled to guide whoever showed up at my table in the Midwinter Faire through the mysteries of acrylic painting.

Well, people not scheduled to be doing things at the con mostly stayed home, but I acquired a companion and we painted wet things. I got one painting done (or almost done) and another started.

The next day I was scheduled pretty solidly with panels and readings, but Saturday I got to two different art workshops, Intuitive Watercolor (the first time I've been pleased with the results of me playing with watercolors) and The Eraser Is Your Friend.

So, art:

Guy from Capricon-001
Look! )
I haven't decided whether I will add to the watercolor, so I haven't removed the tape yet, and the others may be edited a bit still (the rockscape is definitely not done yet, and the sea monster probably needs edits to be Torn World accurate), but this is as far as I got on these at the con.

Oh, yeah, the invitation:  We have a new contest at Torn World with the theme "travel". http://www.tornworld.net/forum/viewtopic.php?f=20&t=1127  Entries can be poetry, fiction, metafiction (or for that matter other cool things like songs) paired with art.  Entries can be from one creator or from more than one creator collaborating.  Would anyone like to collaborate with me?  I'm willing to work with you on canon details, or if one of these (or the blue bird I did last Sketchfest) inspires you, but the results aren't canon, they can still be shared on the site.  Alternatively, if you're an artist, I could work on some writing to go with a piece.  You can, of course, also do something without me--I'd love the competition!

I should note here that right now automated registration for the forums on the Torn World site has been disabled due to persistent hacking attacks.  However, a real person can contact [livejournal.com profile] ellenmillion directly and become a registered member of the forums by administrative fiat.  Questions left on the forums (about the contest or world-details or whatever)  get friendly answers.
wyld_dandelyon: (joyouscat by Djinni)
I got home and opened up the computer to spend a couple of minutes looking at my email, playing silly games and de-stressing before turning to the Muse Fusion and starting to write. To my delight, in my email was a notice of a comment on one of my stories over at Torn World. It doesn't matter how many comments I get, it always cheers my day to get a new one.

That was a great present to get just as the Muse Fusion is starting.That was, of course, a while ago. And now I have a new story about Lalya, clothes, and a torn world holiday known as Acorn Day. There's a snippet from the story over at the Muse Fusion site. [livejournal.com profile] ellenmillion has also shared a snippet of a story and a whole poem she wrote to one of my prompts! [livejournal.com profile] ysabetwordsmith has written some poetry too.

I hope you'll stop by and leave some prompts to inspire us at http://torn-world.livejournal.com/131706.html

Scan-001.BMP
wyld_dandelyon: (Guitar Angel)
But then I spent my evening yesterday mostly working on Torn World stories, and earlier this evening messing with stupid computer issues that seem to have resolved after restarting the internet router and turning the computer on and off a couple of times. *sigh* I hate it when I'm ready to be productive and the equipment isn't.

2013-01-01_00-55-38_436
2012-12-28_22-43-40_533
2012-12-28_22-43-22_979

2013-01-01_00-55-53_53

I'll try for better pictures one of these days, but in the meantime, you can see a glimpse of what I did with my Everyday Goddess t-shirt as well as the new guitar (and the sense of  humor of the friend who took the photos, who aimed carefully to get the Christmas Star over my head).
wyld_dandelyon: (Cookies)
The Gluten-Free Trading Company is having a cookie exchange tomorrow. I may go, or I may not, but it got me thinking about holiday cookies.

I need a whole new set of recipes for holiday cookies now! No flour. No wheat or other glutened substances. No corn--no corn flower, or corn syrup or corn starch.

So I'm off to Google to see what I can find--but it occurs to me that I have friends who cook. Do you have a favorite recipe I could eat? If so, I'd love it if you'd share, either in comments here or in your own journal, with a link here.

I'd particularly like a spritz cookie recipe, so I can make cookies like the one in my icon (which was made by my sister, Dragon).

Thank you!
wyld_dandelyon: (Cookies)
The Gluten-Free Trading Company is having a cookie exchange tomorrow. I may go, or I may not, but it got me thinking about holiday cookies.

I need a whole new set of recipes for holiday cookies now! No flour. No wheat or other glutened substances. No corn--no corn flower, or corn syrup or corn starch.

So I'm off to Google to see what I can find--but it occurs to me that I have friends who cook. Do you have a favorite recipe I could eat? If so, I'd love it if you'd share, either in comments here or in your own journal, with a link here.

I'd particularly like a spritz cookie recipe, so I can make cookies like the one in my icon (which was made by my sister, Dragon).

Thank you!
wyld_dandelyon: (Default)
Saturday, I looked at the tracking numbers, saw that the books were out for delivery in Milwaukee, and so I sat with the TV silent, waiting for a knock on the door. Silence is essential, since my door is old, solid wood--three inches thick most places, and two inches even where it's carved inward to make it pretty. And no matter how big the house, 3" of wood is not a good drum-head.

I can't say I was patient--I went out to check the mail about a dozen times during the day.

Eventually, at 10 to 5, I found instead of an empty mailbox a little off-yellow slip of paper. I'd missed them.

And, of course, there's nothing you can do about that on a Sunday, and the post office closes the same time I get off work, so I sacrificed my lunch hour to go get the books. 

Here is one copy, being guarded by my cat.

It's clear that the camera focused on the cat's face, not the book, but that's OK, you can see the cover over at www.tornworld.net if you want to see it clearly.  You can't see my cat over there.

Duckon, here we come!

(That's me and the books, not me and the cat.  She doesn't take to crowds, even here at the house.)

Next project--get packed, and wait for a reply to my e-mail to Duckon staff, wherein I ask why I was scheduled for two events at the same time on Sunday...
wyld_dandelyon: (Default)
Saturday, I looked at the tracking numbers, saw that the books were out for delivery in Milwaukee, and so I sat with the TV silent, waiting for a knock on the door. Silence is essential, since my door is old, solid wood--three inches thick most places, and two inches even where it's carved inward to make it pretty. And no matter how big the house, 3" of wood is not a good drum-head.

I can't say I was patient--I went out to check the mail about a dozen times during the day.

Eventually, at 10 to 5, I found instead of an empty mailbox a little off-yellow slip of paper. I'd missed them.

And, of course, there's nothing you can do about that on a Sunday, and the post office closes the same time I get off work, so I sacrificed my lunch hour to go get the books. 

Here is one copy, being guarded by my cat.

It's clear that the camera focused on the cat's face, not the book, but that's OK, you can see the cover over at www.tornworld.net if you want to see it clearly.  You can't see my cat over there.

Duckon, here we come!

(That's me and the books, not me and the cat.  She doesn't take to crowds, even here at the house.)

Next project--get packed, and wait for a reply to my e-mail to Duckon staff, wherein I ask why I was scheduled for two events at the same time on Sunday...
wyld_dandelyon: (Default)
Move your cursor over it without clicking. Then click once on the square box therein, and play some more. And then play it back!

How am I going to resist this tomorrow at work?
wyld_dandelyon: (Default)
Move your cursor over it without clicking. Then click once on the square box therein, and play some more. And then play it back!

How am I going to resist this tomorrow at work?
wyld_dandelyon: (Default)
After doing my best to impose positive thinking onto my brain, I did manage to do a sketch last night, and several more this morning:





The first three are for sale at the sketchfest site, the funds to go to pay for improvements to the Sketchfest site or for costs related to bringing out the first Torn World print anthology.

The antibiotic seems to be slowly helping My Angel feel better.  I'm still tireder than I like to be, but today, at least, I've got words in my head and may actually get a few onto the page.  Or I may return to that first girl, and see if I can get her jaw to look less lame...
wyld_dandelyon: (Default)
After doing my best to impose positive thinking onto my brain, I did manage to do a sketch last night, and several more this morning:





The first three are for sale at the sketchfest site, the funds to go to pay for improvements to the Sketchfest site or for costs related to bringing out the first Torn World print anthology.

The antibiotic seems to be slowly helping My Angel feel better.  I'm still tireder than I like to be, but today, at least, I've got words in my head and may actually get a few onto the page.  Or I may return to that first girl, and see if I can get her jaw to look less lame...
wyld_dandelyon: (outpost picnic)
We didn’t escape the mundane world as quickly as I’d planned. My Angel hasn’t been doing well lately, with physical pain wearing down her already fragile emotional status, to the point where she agreed to go see a pain specialist for her back, despite having seen too many people (including her mother) who had poor results from back surgery.

But once again, I’m getting ahead of myself. The important stuff isn’t properly linear.

So we wound our way through the modern wilderness of concrete and orange barrels, evading man-made and natural hazards alike, and eventually arrived at the hotel too late to see s00j and Betsy Tinney’s concert. Am I always destined to be late to see s00j? The last time we braved the wilderness to see her, the turnoff from the highway had been torn down, and either there were no detour signs, or they were hidden from view, so we were long past where we should have turned before we realized we had to turn around.

When we arrived at the hotel my brain was addled by too much driving through headlight glare (to say nothing of too much peering at underlit street signs). But I got keys, My Angel got a luggage cart, and I got stuff packed into the room while My Angel got lost on the way up and got her registration.

In the room, I again wanted to wear my dance of leaves, and tried it on with the expected results. So I got my helpers to tell me how far I had to go, and changed into a skirt and top, adding fairy foo-fraw and lots of jewelry before setting off to obtain my badge and catch a bit of Tomboat, mostly from outside the room. I love all those people, but the volume they project when playing as Toyboat hurts my eardrums. Probably one of the legacies of the allergies being so bad when I was a teenager that sneezes used to make my ears whistle.

There were fairy wings and fairy dust everywhere, and friends, and cheese and grapes in the con suite, which (along with some carrots and celery) did a lot to remove the aftereffects of the trip, leaving me much more focused and able to enjoy things.  And somehow the necklaces, rows and rows of gleaming stone, laid light on my shoulders and the back of my neck, almost as if it were gleaming illusions.

At the open Filk, once My Angel brought my guitar, I found it was still in tune. Sadly, I was still tireder than I thought—I ended up using the computer not for nano, but as a cheat sheet for songs I’ve had memorized for years. But still, there was live music, and a bed to fall into once everyone gave up and I headed back to the room.

Saturday, rise to dress for more music. I put on my spring sky with butterflies, since it’s layered and I was cold. And, of course, the hand-me-up shoes. I then went to go grab milk and more grapes in the con suite. The display got my hopes up, with one box mentioning rice chex, but sadly, they were mixed in with wheat and corn chex, and so were not Deirdre food.

Then to see Alexander James, whose voice I like quite as much as I did his predecessor’s. I got to briefly say hi before the concert, while they were doing a sound check for the concert after his.

Music and appliqué – relatively simple appliqué, to be sure, since the siren call of wearing the dress was still sounding. But the music, the music was magical. I watched Alec’s concert and then Heather Dale’s (If you haven’t heard of her, go thou to heatherdale.com)

Then I met My Angel to look at the art show a bit, before running back to return to appliqué and music, to watch the guests of honor—Tricky Pixie.

As they were still working on getting the sound levels right, and attempting to chase away the loud gremlins of feedback, my sister Dragon (yes, she who gave me the hand-me-up shoes, and indeed who painted them in green lightning knotwork) slid into the chair next to me, and asked if I had a sketching pencil and paper.

The gremlins being well entrenched and the feedback squeals hurting my ears helped convince me to run (yes, run, as in actual running in the halls, as if the hands of time were running backward) to my room to grab the sketchbook and colored pencils I’d packed. And then they turned the lights down, and we shifted so the spotlight aimed at the stage bled onto our creative projects, and we settled in to enjoy the magic, both the magic from the stage and the magic flowing from our own fingers.

It’s not as if they were totally separate. Dragon noted that she was drawing in time to the music, and as for me? My fingers were dancing on the fabric, letting me resist the call to stand up and dance, if only barely.

See what my sister drew with my pencils, sitting there in the twilight where the audience sat spellbound? 

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