presently blonde and sketching

So I did it.

Or rather, Kasey the fabulous hair stylist did it.

Transformed my hair from brunette to reddish-orange to blonde.

And all the while I was sitting next to a kind lady who was also getting her hair done. She looked a little familiar maybe, but I didn't give it a second thought and was happy to listen to the lilt in her British accent as she marveled over the way my hair had gone from as dark as hers to well, this.

I even told her that her accent was so very pretty, still not knowing that I was sitting next to someone I'd heard before.

On the T.V.

A while ago.

Finally she tipped her stylist, who quickly said thank you, Tracy and then I knew. Tracy Allman, of the Tracy Allman show. The funny lady who launched the Simpsons. Oh, right.

Lately I have been spending a lot of time making things.

Songs, mostly.

But I also started drawing a little last night.

I was staring at this photo and started sketching and came up with this.
Me and Ollie in pencil and ink.

goodness

Soft little hand in mine. With grey hoods streaming behind us and shadows marching alongside us, we're gonna be okay.

Yep, we're gonna be just fine.

you can hold on

Sometimes you hang on a rope swing. And when you look like a little boy, you don't mind so much.

Because at least you're hanging onto something.

And the fact that the rope is burning and your legs are shaking from the effort is just more evidence.

Of the fact that you're alive.

That you're a fighter.

And that you're scrappy.

Even when you don't quite feel like you are.

Even when you face opposition.
Who seems to think that they are bigger and badder than they really are.

Who would benefit greatly from a bath, a tender touch, and maybe a massage.

A massage? you wonder.

Yes, a massage. Because you think you've heard it all but then your hair stylist mentions that he knows a dog masseuse who makes $80 an hour and has at least three clients a day and doesn't that just beat all?

It beats most, at least.

And always, always there's a door up ahead.

It might be red because that's your favorite color or it might be less obvious than that but the point is that it's there.

It's a door that leads to better things and even though you have to eventually let go of that rope swing because nobody can live their life suspended in the air, you can hold onto hope.

And you will.

a few pics thrown your way

I just found a strong spot of internet--three whole bars!--in the hallway, so I sat myself down and got to it. Around here you never know when the ichat window is just gonna roll right up and away and you are suddenly disconnected from the world wide web in less time than it takes to press save now.

But anyway.

I thought you might want to know that I fought the pole...
And the pole won.

Or at least left a mark.

For those of you who cannot tell, this image is the back of my leg, right above the knee.

Kind of pretty, huh? I am actually fascinated by bruises. The color, how tender they are, how they progress and then are suddenly gone. I think the way the body heals is truly miraculous and now I get to watch a little miracle every time I catch a view of the back of my right leg.

Lucky me.

But for those of you who may not be so enamored with bruises, I will leave you with a different parting image.

Vancouver.
Taken while walking with David over the bridge on the way to Whole Foods. It was a long walk, but totally worth it to see the sun setting over the harbor and to have our room now stocked with delicious food.

sandy handed boys, owls who are not owls, and my own silly self

Summer time sand.

In your hair.

On your skin.

Under your fingernails as you keep digging in.

Might as well admit right now that Drew isn't the only young man in my life.

Might as well give you photographic proof.

Cause here they are, Ollie, Eli, and Judah,
managing to look cool despite holding their hands in that I-really-need-to-rinse-them kind of way. You know, the beach kind of way.

And in the background you can see my sister Jenna, my sister-in-law Darby, and my brother Jonathan, doing their part to get sandy too.

Oh, and Drew and I adopted an owl.

A black one.
Okay, not really, but doesn't Percy look like one? She's not, though; she's totally feline, she's just really good at looking like an owl sometimes.
And looking like a cat most other times. What can I say, she's got game.

And one more thing.

This is what happens when you are me.

When you really don't get technology all that easily.

Or don't really have the patience for it.

Not when all you're trying to do is take a picture.

One silly picture.

And you end up taking...well, this.