bird therapy #2
it’s been a wild couple of days, weeks, months, year. in april, at the initial height of the pandemic, i started drawing again … with my mom. i started calling this bird therapy … and all of this really started over a year ago.
general
knowledge (f-)bomb
last night i had a bomb dropped on me. this morning i woke up ready to fight back. then i paused to understand and strategize [like i always do]: … what am i hoping to achieve?… what do i want the response to be?… and most importantly, will throwing more bombs help me? let’s answer
goals
i love spinning metaphors into stories. puns and innuendos come pouring out of me, and sports themes tend to be top of mind. life is just one big game, isn’t it? the past few months have proven that time and again. here’s my story of being laid off from a 125-year-old company who enticed me
get that a man a puppy
i’ve known from very early on that my husband was obsessed with pets. our relationship began because of a cat. he has more pictures in his phone of my uncle’s dog than of me. so we did it. after 10 years together. a million conversations on the topic. being chastised by friends even though it
bird therapy
i’m about to get on the road for wisconsin for a two week visit. it’s an 8 hour drive that i’ve done countless times from st. louis to be with my family. this time it’s during a pandemic. this time it’s by myself. this time i’m more anxious than normal. this time it’s needed more
harvey’s gardens (3 of 4)
an article about my uncle harvey was printed in the milwaukee journal sentinel august 13, 1995. it describes the oasis he created on his land following his accident better than I ever could … so i transcribed what was written. enjoy! [p.s. the above is a framed print of the original article, circa 1994]
harvey’s passing (2 of 4)
through this process of blogging and self-reflecting, i have stopped making assumptions about the day of harv’s accident [aka my birthday] and i finally sat down and did the math [one of my absolute least favorite things to do.] this has lead to a profoundly personal realization … i have no doubt this “story” will
i’m not marching today
i’m sitting on my front porch locked out of my house writing this blog post. i can hear the helicopters buzzing overhead. it’s the same sound we heard on wednesday of last week and the saturday before. it has been two weeks of buzzing in st. louis.
let’s talk (& draw) about racism
yesterday i called my mom around noon as i have nearly every day since April 22nd because of COVID and social distancing. i live in a different state from my mom and have never felt closer to her. we draw together. we talk if there is something to say but we mostly just draw. for
harvey’s video (1 of 4)
i put 1 of 4 but i doubt i’ll be able to fully capture a fraction [1/4] of the man my uncle harvey was. but as they say, you’ve got to start somewhere. The most effective way to do it, is to do it. Amelia Earhart in other words: let’s fly, amelia