Busted Egg Boats with Crochet Nest + Baby Hands

My 7 (almost 8) year old son took these pictures totally independently – the castle and associated fortressing apparatus, the hula hoop – The Phlox Kingdom, or – as it is alternately known, The Kingdom of Phlox, or – simply – PhloxLand.

The boy went on a little phlox bender early in the spring, but he seems over it now, given the gigantic lambsquarter plants exploding all over PhloxLand.

“Man, you have got to weed the Kingdom!”

I didn’t alter the pictures in anyway – though I am really wanting to play around with the colors on the hula hoop. He has the most remarkable eye for composition I have ever seen on an 7 (almost 8) year old.

Here is a poem by the girl, an original.

A fish is a fish.
No, it is not a fish.
It is a square and a triangle
mixed together

I am reallyreallyreally enjoying the kids lately. Perhaps where the peaceful feeling is coming from, knowing that I won’t have to be so BUSY for at least a little chunk of time.

They are neat little people who like to hug me.

(Okay, yeah there’s the “other” stuff ( the not-fun and satisfying parts of parenting, but since I left work, the kids seem much more eager to comply with my mom-like requests, brush your teeth, etc. I think they may have been protesting my foray into the realms of

SuperScrewedUpMyScheduleAgainMomINEEDToTakeANap Mom

– lamelamelamelame – and now I know that is not the way for me and my small little family.

I did the math – I am still working about six – (only on writing, art, blog – house and kid stuff is an easy four to six hours, I mean it NEVER ends.) making stuff and generating content and shuffling image files. And I hardly even have my act together at all. Seriously gearing up for the big O-R-G-A-N-I-Z-E! Getting very excited. All my yarn in one place, a file cabinet, kids toys coherently stored and displayed…actually, we’re pretty close to having it pretty close to done…just need to clean up the edges and finalize the spaces and figure out how to maintain it and – by this time next year – well, putting things back where they came from will be second nature and, just like drawing every day seems very natural to me now, it did not at the beginning – it was pretty lame actually. But, it got better quickly. When I decided to just erase and move forward as much as I could until the hand translated the image from the brain correctly onto the paper.

Drawing is an AMAZING process and the better your hand learns to communicate with your brain, the easier it is to capture the images that may come to mind and to see where the images might lead you.

…but, you know what: SCHOOL’S OUT FOR SUMMER!)

Coming Soon:

Clumsy but Concentrated Shameless Self Promotion

and

Return to Chimney Rock! Have you ever ridden an elevator up several stories through a natural geologic wonder, a huge outcropping that over looks the land smoothing out to the East. Yup an elevator, through a rock. They dug the tunnels into the earth using hand labor.

…To Build A Boat

With A Busted Egg…

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faithrhyne@gmail.com

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8:55 AM
(9 hours ago)

…All you have to do is set the shattered shell upon the water. It is so light it that it will float.

The only problem with a boat made from eggshells is that it can’t hold much, or it will quickly sink.

Drawing has been hard this morning. Sort of. I picked up my pencil and stared at the page. I don’t often consider the blank page. Usually I get past it as quickly as I can, a single line.

But, I stared at the page and thought, “Huh?” Because I didn’t even – for the first time in a long time – know where to start.

I drew a few lines and heartily erased them, hoping for some truth in form to whisper from the marks I had made.

I guess it is probably time I talk about god and…
how odd it is to feel led by something
that you don’t even know how to believe in.

This morning, as I sometimes secretly do – I took the Coleman Barks translations of Rumi out to porch. I always feel a little silly with my mystic poems in the early morning or the middle of the night. But, sometimes – when I can’t find the framework, random poetry helps me to figure things out.

I held the book on my lap and – knowing that it opened to some pages more easily than others…

I put it on it’s edge, spine up, so that the pages lay beside one another and I thought, “There is no way this is anything but ridiculous. I have probably read every poem here – except for donkey farts one…I don’t like that one and the book never opens at random to it, but I come across sometimes, flipping through and scanning words for the one’s that make sense.

Rumi seemed to be trying to find god through stories as well; sometimes he doesn’t make sense.

This is the page I opened the book to.
I had never read this page before and so…

I tore it out.

Back to drawing.

show details 1:39 PM (4 hours ago)

Well, my appointment at the Employment Security Commission went well-ish. Apparently, I’ll need to apply for two jobs prior to next week, when I meet with a Claims Counselor.

The gentleman I spoke to was nice. I was, of course…a freakshow.


“Hi, I’m Michael.”

Actually, I’m not even sure he had a chance to introduce himself, since I was blathering about “Sorry I was on the phone when you called me, it was an Independednt Customer Satisfaction Survey re: My Recent Phone Call to Blue Cross Blue Shield.

“Take a load off.” He gestures to a County-issued chair. All the places smell the same: The Department of Social Services, the Employment Security Commission…all smell like dust and carpet steam and cold air in duct works.

It is warm here today. Gearing up for thunder.



“How are you?”

“Huh?” Spacing out, “Oh, I’m fine.” Gosh, what is up with my tone of voice? Sound More Cheerful! “Yeah, I mean I’m fine…I mean, yeah – I AM at the ESC…” Haha…whatever. I am REAllY happy…not EVEN worried. This whole filing for unemployment thing is just ‘something I have to do.’ See: right there, proof of my safety net. Besides, I feel so – calm. Really: peaceful…I know that if I knew the kids were okay and the house wasn’t left for my folks to deal with – well, I’d be fine as long as I had something to do with my hands – yarn, a pencil, a piece of paper. The nice thing is I am like, frickin’ miraculous with the turning of one thing into another. Really, if you ever need a messy ending to be turned into a new beginning – I will be happy to tell you, in no uncertain terms, what you need to do to fix your situation. Yes, I am offering advice. Give me a problem, I will give you a solution. For a small donation, of course.

Yes, I want to be an advice columnist. I would be a brilliant frickin’ advice columnist.

Please, somebody – offer me a job as an advice columnist.



So, back to my meeting at the Employment Security Commission. Hahahahahaha. It was not intentional AT ALL that I sort of spaced out getting my game face on. You know shifted into quirky and charming and affable young professional-ish. In fact, I didn’t really think at all about how I’d be perceived. Until, of course, I opened my big mouth.

“Really. I’m really happy.” I should’ve used the word peaceful, but who says they feel peaceful. I mean, how dopey and nutty is that!? I’ll tell you…it is really dopey and nutty.

However, not NEARLY as dopey and nutty as the conversation with ESC (ironically: ESCAPE) Michael…at least the beginning anyway…”Yeah, I’m not so much actively seeking employment. I am having some issues with the…um, working…yeah, with – you know – the sustainability of working?” “Jeez Louise!” My voice of reason was screaming – throwing up it’s hands,

‘What’re you TALKING about!?” I dunno.

Oh yeah, total nutcase. I can’t even relay the rest of the conversation as it became more and more and more distracted. I can tell you that this very compassionate super straightlaced looking middle-aged-ish ESC employee has relatives who have their own island off the coast of Georgia, Nutt Island. It’d be nice to go visit some of the old Georgia down there, I guess. Interesting, anyway. Old Georgia isn’t exactly nice – but, in a way it is, ’cause you know just where you stand with most folks…sorta?

Anyway, apparently my new ally at the ESC once took part in research involving the MMPI (Minnesota Multi-Phasic Personality Inventory) and turns out he’s like off the charts in Schizophrenic Indicators, but – lucky for him – also rating high on measures of social adaptability. So, yeah – that makes him what, like? A sociopath?

I have taken the MMPI like four times – if that Dr. Lady would get back into touch with me about the results of my last Psych Eval. I could show you. Yup, earlier – when I referenced the MMPI – back in the fall. Well, I think I made out like I had, through my GAL connections gotten a hold of it – not an outright lie, I knew the lawyer via GAL cases and when I explained to her that I had to get a psych. eval because my husband thought I was ‘crazy’ and a ‘bad mother’ and was threatening all sorts of meanness —

So, not an out-right lie…but a distortion of the truth to make it easier to explain without the whole story. Wait! Wasn’t I not going to tell my story here anymore? Eh?

Well, I’m just writing what comes to mind. The color blue: cobalt

Anyway – I have never scored high enough on any of the indicators on the MMPI to warrant a diagnosis of any sort. A little of this a little of that, generally functional. Of course, I’ve carried – not very close – a great many diagnoses. The only thing I would call myself is ‘Diagnosed’ – It’s a terrible new Spectrum Disorder that saw a remarkable rise in the late-eighties and early nineties, along with the rise on availability of psychoactive compounds.


Speaking of which, I think I am going to ask the manufacturing company of the medication I take to just provide it to me in the form of samples sent to me c/o my Primary Care Dr.

We’ll see if they do the right thing. I can’t really afford COBRA, and two hundred bucks a month is – well, it’s more than COBRA!

This is boring the shit of me.

Note to Self: When speaking with ESC Ally, do not refer to anything called the Psychiatric Machine.

Such talk makes me sound lunatic. I’m not. I just rate low on social adaptability. Probably lower now than ever before…

ESC Ally suggested re-training. No kidding, man.

Yeah – he had a picture of Lincoln – drawing done by his wife. He himself is a skilled photographer of vistas. I gave him the site address.

Man, I am really a frickin’ mess!? Why do I feel so damn peaceful?

This is a tiny installation variable crocheted with gold embroidery thread. The hands were cut off of a child’s forgotten toy. I would like to make many of them. They are easy, an hour – tops. You could use the little golden birdnest for anything, it doesn’t have to be cut off doll hands. It could be…well, whatever.

Wedding rings or jellybeans.

This is what my kitchen shelf looks like.


This is what my backdoor mat looks like,
with a dead, pure white moth laying on it.

(The thing that I enjoy about digitally mediating the measures of brightness and contrast is that it gives me an opportunity to explore the ways that different elements relate with one another in the composition. Brighten the image and a furrowed brow can look downright holy. How I determine when the image is done is when it looks and ‘feels’ right to my eyes. I don’t think much about the meaning or content – I acknowledge the inescapable metaphors we have created in trying to explain a thing as a different thing entirely. We are a deeply confused lot. All of us. Led terribly astray. I cannot make art that will please anyone but me and if someone else likes it – well, that’s nice, too.

Re-imagining things is one of my favorite things to do.

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