Leaving on a Road Trip

Good Morning Tuesday!

Good Morning YOU!

I've two things to say before I slip into my flippity flops and don my biggest pair of shades and they are thus:

1. YOU have made me feel so great this last week, what with all your short-hair-love and downright flattery. You KNOW how to make a gal feel amazing and I think you might be responsible for the extra strutting I did all weekend and the sly brush-your-hair-out-of-your-eyes "oh this ol' hair do?" I may have pulled more than twice. I really adore you. That's what this comes down to.

2. I'm heading out of town for the week (Monday you ask? Yeah, never happened) and into the greater San Francisco area of California, driving out in my faithful little Civic with a huge box of chopped veggies and plans for a chai latté before I even hit the freeway. I've got a few appointments with various doctors but I'll be staying with one of my bestie gals which means hysterical laughter, very little sleep, and the eye rolls of her man (whom I love like crazy too) at our no-doubt-crazed antics. I can't help it. We get together and it's like a whole room of children cracked out on sugar. All big eyes and no control over the volume of our voices. Except it's just the two of us. And we're both no longer even in our twenties.

BRING ON THE GOOD TIMES!

That said, I don't know if I'll have time or breath to update this bloggy-o later in the week BUT no matter what I'll be back next Monday with photos galore and plans to [finally] show you a few pieces from that new painting series I've been hinting at!

Lovey Dove,

- Umber

Home Sweet Home

Leaving on a jet plane...

Sunsets that place a gal in bodily danger of being run over as she crosses streets, gawking wide eyed to the West.

Gluttonous Reading

Almost being run over again due to the shocking bands of heavenly light.

Puddle Jumper

Growing from every crack in the sidewalk, up every chain-link fence, around every white-washed tree trunk, the bougainvillea flashed their paper-thin vibrance.

Cacti nursery at sunset, one thousand glowing deadly orbs radiating in the humid evening light.

When in Rome; open mouths for cerveza...

...open mouths for guacamole.

And just like that, we're back to the shaded streets of my city, sleeping under a fluffy pile of [extraordinarily clingy] kitty boys,

breathing slower,

breathing deeper,

feeling the rhythm in the soles of our shoes

feeling back

feeling here

feeling home.

Back in Oregon and Other Woes of an Artist

Well technically I'm back in Seattle as I sit her in my ol' faithful white sweat pants (see Jordan? Every gal breaks out the sweats!) but I was back in Oregon all last week.  To be more exacting, I was vacationing in a true vacation house alongside the Umpqua River in prime wine country with my BC and a couple of old friends.  It was also prime insect country as I quickly discovered (I don't care how much time you spend in the woods, when a 2.5 inch - 6.3 centimeter - moth flies into the bird's nest of hair you keep perched on top of your head, dive-bombing your scalp and trying to evade your swatting fingers, you DO squeal).  

While the house allegedly offered internet in it's long list of amenities and I had grand plans of daily blog-photo posting, the service ended up being worse than dial-up.  Dial-up people.  I just don't do dial-up (I gave it up years ago along with margarine and spiked belts).  So mercifully, it was a techie-free week.  

Does any one else find bliss in not being able to check their email and voice messages-oh-oops-I'm-out-of-range-reading-by-the-river-so-sorry?  

At any rate, the week consisted largely of painting, reading, wine tasting and eating.  As all good vacations should.

I was lucky enough to find a spare patio table, drag it off to the very edge of the yard overlooking the river and set up a mini-studio.   Absolutely beautiful, exactly what I needed and wanted.  I watched the river slur by at a fast clip and a loud swush, light playing off every peak and unexpected splash.  I sat in the phosphorescent glow of afternoon light filtered by a thousand sheer maple leaves.  I ran down to the water one afternoon, rubber gloves still on, brush in hand, to watch a whole family of wood ducks flitting across the water, the young small enough to fit in my palm and in numbers no less than 15.  I listened to the Stellar's jays fighting over the best way to build their nest, chasing robins off prime materials.  I swatted the fat summer flies and hummed little tunes to myself, the song of oil pooling on a tight drum of canvas, an ode to pushing and pulling neat piles of paint with my palette knife, a ballad of the slick bend of my favorite round brush.

And herein lies the difficulty.  

I have been suffering from an acute case of studio restlessness.  Please don't get me wrong, I love my studio, it is truly my space and I've built something there.  But sometimes I long for a space close enough to jaunt into the house to pour up that second cup of joe, a space that looks out into the trees, a space I can work late into the evening (my studio is not in the best part of town...).  I don't mean to complain, not at all, but sometimes I wish I DID just have it all AND a slice of dark chocolate cake too.

I'm writing up new goals.  I think I need them, printed in bold lettering, in my best handwriting, to clear my head and focus my direction.  I know where I want to be (figuratively), but I need to uncover where I want to be (literally).  But this time of indecision, well, I'm done with it all together.  It's just too exhausting.

I'm making my way.  A bird of bright plumage, buoyed up by the currents of her clan, flying soft across the deep summer moon.

~ Side Note ~

EEK!  It's so tiny, only 5 inches square! I've been on a bit of a kick with these little canvas, so intimate, cradled in my hand, each one a complete thought, like a single sentence in the novel of my life.  I could make a thousand and every one would still be individual, still be able to stand on it's own two feet, but grouped together they weave a complex tale.  In this, painting makes more sense to me than the very molecules of oxygen and carbon dioxide that play tag team in my lungs.  

Ambling and Rambling

The Short list of where and what Umber Dove has been up to for the last few days...

1)  A week in sunny California.  I know, I always mean to post a bit before I leave, but the whirlwind that is me packing (including the grueling debates between which over-the-knee socks make the biggest statement with which skirt and hat combo - I like to bring a hearty dose of "crazy artist" to the rather small town I grew up in - and the frequent hollers to BC asking if I've completely exceeded my 50 pound suitcase weight limit) combined with my total and complete lack of time-concept generally results in, you guessed it, no time for the blog-o-sphere.

2) Ringing in my baby sister's 21st birthday over clear martinis with a twist (me) and pretty pink ones with a cherry on top (her).  Ringing in just-because-we-could with my middle sister over lip-smacking (and seconds inducing) margaritas.

3) Swinging hammers, listing to Allison Krauss and Robert Plant, crafting rings in the wee hours of the night with my mum (in case you did not know, she is a fabulous jewelry designer to boot, and you can visit her shop right here).

4) Beignets and Café Au Lait, followed shortly by a powdered sugar high.

5) Finally exchanging Christmas gifts with my family.  I genuinely think I get just as much pleasure watching them opening gifts as I when I open my own.  And as far as "my own" I was terribly and wonderfully spoiled as ever, feeling incredibly blessed with a family that knows me and all my eccentric tastes so well.

6)  Running the old routes through the streets of Lodi, around the lake, through the nature area, startling huge gray squirrels and garnering the wrath of stellar's jays.

7)  Eating boiled kale, baked potatoes and dill-Havarti cheese.  After eventful meals (and going to TWO brunches on Sunday) it felt stupendous to eat my strange but favorite  food combinations.

8)  Playing with this little mongrel, my parent's new addition to the family, Fritz of Finney Rock the Yorkie of Spunk.  I don't care who you are and how you feel about small dogs, this one is FREAKING ADORABLE I WANT TO EAT HIM HE'S SO CUTE!

I know it doesn't sound like much, but that was exactly the point - I've been in desperate need of a week of "not much."  And a visit back home fit the bill.

So here I am, back in Sunny Seattle (yep, it actually is today), holding my to-do list off at arm's length, breathing deep, nesting in, glad to be home.

I

think

it's 

time 

for 

a

cappuccino

cheerio,

- Umber