martinimade

Once upon a time, Lisa and Adrienne worked for the same alternative newsweekly. Now, both spend their respective days mining their creative souls and leading hermit-like lives. And so an idea was hatched. Every week, one would send the other a sketch - either in illustration or word form - and the other would make a companion sketch. The result would be posted on both their blogs every week, just for grins. Even if the result isn't award-worthy, the exercise might make both minds more nimble. Hopefully.

While I appreciate the thought — no, no, really — it’s sweet that you wanted to get me all the things from the song. Really. Very nice. But I might have been happier with another accordion. Or maybe some food for all of these dang drummers drumming. 

At least all the birds have flown away. Well, except for that bite-y one. He seems to want to stick around. And we have plenty of milk now so there’s that. And the trees will be nice once there are pears on them.

I’m not saying that it was a bad gift. No. No! I love that you went to such expense and effort. I love that practicality is not obstacle for you! 

I just think that maybe next year we set some limits.

* On nerd entitlement. 

* The calculated misery of air travel.

* #30.

* Space. Wow.

* Oddly, turning 40 made me realize most of these.

* Before there was an internet, I long believed this would be my dream job.

* HOW DO THEY NOT NOTICE?

* A sweary blog about swearing.

As I did last year at this time (and the year before that), I gave the sermon at our UU church on Sunday. Somehow, it's become a tradition. 

I took a slightly different approach this year, for reasons that will be explained in the talk itself. And I'm posting a little ahead of New Year's Eve so that those who want to play along have a chance to prepare. The full text will be behind a cut, just because it's kinda long.

For those who've played along in past years, how did your 2014 word work out? 

Once upon a time, Lisa and Adrienne worked for the same alternative newsweekly. Now, both spend their respective days mining their creative souls and leading hermit-like lives. And so an idea was hatched. Every week, one would send the other a sketch - either in illustration or word form - and the other would make a companion sketch. The result would be posted on both their blogs every week, just for grins. Even if the result isn't award-worthy, the exercise might make both minds more nimble. Hopefully.

Things I know I don’t want for Christmas so thank you anyway:

• Ebola
• Newscasters, etc., obsessing about ebola
• Chinese from that weird place around the corner. I don’t think it’s actually a restaurant. 
• Another accordion. 
• Anything processed. 
• More lingerie, because, really, at this point, who are we kidding?
• Things that breathe and/or require food.
• Those smelly candles. You know the ones.
• Visits from your Aunt Margie. It’s not even character building anymore. It’s just sad, like Grey Gardens sad.

Other than that, though, the sky is the limit. I mean, you could get me the sky, but I’m not sure where we’d put it.

Text ©Adrienne Martini; illustration ©Lisa Horstman. Until the end of time. Or something.

* Something to keep in mind as the years sneak up.

* SERIOUSLY?

* Especially #34.

* A trend I endorse.

* Same as it every was.

* LISA D'AMOUR!

* What Wall Street needs for Christmas.

* I'll take one, please.

* A ladyperson at the holidays.

* Great story; great web design.

* Art I dig.

* When what you don't know ...

This is apparently the time of year when I take two steps back for every step forward. But - hey! - I finally have cards* ready to put in the mail! So while I scramble around like a woman chased by bees, a picture of Lucy, who would really like to play:

* Holiday cards are my favorite, both the sending and the receiving. It's one of those things that I look forward to every single year.

"This is something any lawyer will tell you, and perhaps something lawyers and reporters have in common as a piece of life experience: People do things that don't really make any sense, even with the checks we think we have on our expectations for logical behavior. Stories arise that don't even fit any of our commonly understood narratives for uncommon acts. They do things that just seem ... unmotivated, random, not in range. Why does somebody send an email that will obviously be evidence against him? Why does someone renew a relationship in which they're mistreated? And that's not even to mention the questions that are elemental: Why do people hurt people they love? Why do they take huge risks for small gains? Why are people vindictive? Why do they lie? Why do they reward kindness with viciousness? Why do they give love that seems not deserved? That's not to say those things all happened in this case; it's just to say ... these are things that happen."

- Linda Holmes on Serial.

The hazard of having a dog who is low to the ground is this:

There's maybe one week per year when her belly isn't a giant magnet for all manner of mud, grit, and grime. To say nothing of the snowballs she develops when there is any significant accumulation.

Still, this face makes up for a lot. But, man, so much dirt.

Once upon a time, Lisa and Adrienne worked for the same alternative newsweekly. Now, both spend their respective days mining their creative souls and leading hermit-like lives. And so an idea was hatched. Every week, one would send the other a sketch - either in illustration or word form - and the other would make a companion sketch. The result would be posted on both their blogs every week, just for grins. Even if the result isn't award-worthy, the exercise might make both minds more nimble. Hopefully.

Bob. I need you to sit down for a minute. We need to talk. 

No, Bob. Now is exactly the right time. 

They aren’t real, Bob. Not even a little. 

Stuffed, Bob. Not with “love,” like you say every single time I point this out. With industrial fiber-fil. 

I’m not “against freedom,” Bob. I’m just worried about where this is going. You need to choose: me or the three penguins.

Well. 

That was unexpected. And quick. I expected more mulling. And no I won’t scrape my own sticker off of your window. I never wanted to be part of this freak show in the first place, Bob.

Text ©Adrienne Martini; illustration ©Lisa Horstman. Until the end of time. Or something.

* I'm shocked. SHOCKED.

* Related, sort of.

* "You knew we had to do this."

* There's so much wrong with this. So much.

* So much wrong with this, too.

* Ditto.

* Laugh break.

* Nature is nifty.

* Heartbreaking but so well written.

* Laugh break.

* Add these to the list of things I desire but so don't need.

* What we don't talk about when we talk about education.

* Go Jason!

* And from my Husband.