martinimade

In less than 30 hours I will be leaving for Arkansas for the Another Mother Runner retreat. To say that I am unprepared would be an insult to unprepared people everywhere. I suspect I'll spent the next 30 hours trying to get as much of my work- and home-life as organized as they can be while flinging random objects into a bag and hoping I forget nothing that can't be replaced but knowing that I'll likely misplace, like, one contact lens or something. Because that's how I roll. 

At the last retreat I went to, I forgot my toothbrush, even though I managed to pack toothpaste. Anyone care to guess exactly what I'll forget this time around?

"Don’t worry about things. Don’t push. Just do your work and you’ll survive. The important thing is to have a ball, to be joyful, to be loving and to be explosive. Out of that comes everything and you grow."

— Ray Bradbury (stolen from Bear.)

Also:  the latest Martini Fridays is up at Another Mother Runner. It's still not spring here and I have doubts.

Me, too, Lucy. Me. Too.

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.

Our cat Barney, the one who we rescued from a barn, hence his name, is fixated on the sounds coming from behind the water heater. Sounds, of course, that only he can hear. He sits there, poised in mid-leap, muscles all taught and ready to pounce, listening. Then, unfailingly, he falls asleep like that, in front of the water heater, which is when all of the little mousies parade out. Squeaky jugglers lead the way, followed by the mouse marching bands and funny cars. Barney’s whiskers never twitch. He snores on, oblivious.

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

* I, too, fail at snack.

* Ready to feel about a 1,000 years old? (Also: I had such a crush on Chris Young. I can't even tell you.)

* Making the tradition what you need it to be.

* Building a better condom -- and why. 

* I, too, am a medicated woman.

* A conversation higher ed is not having, mostly because no one knows what to do about it.

* I have a thing for tiny worlds.

* My God, my eating disorder.

* I will be putting this above my desk.

* An honest college rejection letter.

* On lipstick and eyeliner.

* I don't know whether to hang it or eat it.

* It's the annotations that make it less irritating.

We're not a big Easter-y family. Nor are we a big Passover-y family. Some of this has to do, of course, with not being a very religious-y family. It also has a lot to do with how Spring usually goes around here. 

For instance, I was greeted by this on Sunday morning when I went out for my run:

Which made me want to go right back inside and do this:

I didn't, though. Because later on I wanted to eat this:

Underneath that particular blanket of white is a carrot cake. We may not be about the holidays around these parts -- but we are all about the baked goods. 

"I have a recurring dream, and when I have it I'm always so happy: I'm in a house and I discover a room of the house that I didn't know was there. It's a good dream. It's a glorious feeling. I feel that way about work, when you find another area beyond an area. It's very satisfying -- comedically, dramatically. That's what I live for, to be honest."

-- Julia Louis-Dreyfus in this week's Entertainment Weekly. I bring it up because I have that exact same recurring dream, too, although I find it slightly more unsettling than she does. This may be the one thing we have in common. Well, that and decidedly unruly hair. 

Plus! The lovely Tanis Gray  talked to yrs trly about Sweater Quest: My Year of Knitting Dangerously. I am honored and thrilled. Thanks, Tanis!

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.

Rain will start in 76 minutes, weather.com tells me. Would that it could be that accurate with the rest of my day. Mid-afternoon ennui will start in 54 minutes. Unless you have a nice cup of tea, which will forestall the inevitable by 12 minutes and 34 seconds. The dog will start barking about nothing in 9 minutes. She will stop in 9 minutes and 20 seconds, only to leave you wondering if it was really about nothing or if there was someone on the front porch after all. Mindlessly scroll through facebook every seven minutes and twitter every eight. And in 76 minutes, grab your umbrella.

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