Photo altered for future painting

Knoxville has a highschool radio station called Falcon Radio that is ridiculous and awesome. I heard because they're so low-budget, they can't play current music. Instead they choose a bizarre mixture of genres from the past, and about half the time I tune in, it's perfect.

My friend Cassie and I used to post Falcon Radio songs on each other's Facebook walls for fun, but then I got rid of FB*, and so we cannot anymore.

Alas, I shall post it here instead.

* more on this later...

Last summer, I housesat at a beautiful farmhouse in East Knoxville.

The icing on the cake was that part of the job was dogsitting for a hearing impaired dog...

...which meant we communicated using sign language.

I didn't really master this (you try communicating using sign language when a dog is running away from you), but I did have fun throwing up the sign that signified "Let's go home!"

Ask me to do it for you the next time you see me. It'll be funny, I promise.

She was pretty cute, and the house and land were magical.

What is a recurring dream exactly? I don't know if I have them, but I have many that share one or two different themes. I had one last night in fact.

I owned this beautiful old house with high-ceilinged walls. Not just beautiful- grand. The lighting from my very expensive chandeliers was romantic and moody. The whole place felt warm and my furniture soft. I had people over to watch a movie that made me think of Anne of Avonlea on my large flat screen. I lived next door to my friend Amelia, who lived in a similar house, and she came over, to sit in this big comfortable armchair, to rest, because that was the type of home I lived in.

I dream about living in grand beautiful spaces a lot- places that remind me of Wayne Manor or the house in Casper*, but the difference is that the spaces are full of people.

Right now, I live alone. Well, there's Juicy. And I don't have people over a lot. I'd like to, though, but it's just too easy not to.

I was lying on my couch the other day, listening to my ipod (that just decided to start working again after six months), Juicy catatonic** next to me, except for her purring. I was looking at all the things I've collected, all the pretty old things my family has given me, all the art I've received through trades, all the beautiful pieces I've found at thrift stores, confined in that tiny space.

 I thought about all the struggles so many of my married friends have had. It made me sad and grateful.

Why do I dream about these spaces? I can only hope that it means one day I'll have one, to accommodate the people I love, and those that need it.


*Note that both of these places have secret underground rooms, something I've always felt the need for.
**it's a pun!!

I love Alice from Cul de Sac.

I like the way she thinks and talks and can often relate to her sentiments. Her words are funny as well as sincere, and while I can possess those qualities separately, it is rare that I am both of them simultaneously.

Sidenote: It seems my sarcastic tendencies have started to get the better of me recently. I've noticed more and more that even when I'm being sincere, people assume I'm not*. While this humors me, it's also something I've decided to work on- just tack that on to my (neverending) Self-betterment To-do list...

I also admire how she unashamedly threatens temper tantrums and freely shares what she disdains (the Uh-Oh Baby) with others. She is fearless when it comes to what she wants to communicate.

I like her.

***

Did you know Bill Watterson is a Cul de Sac fan and supporter?

In the intro of his 10th Anniversary Book, published 17 years ago, he describes Susie as smart, serious, and earnest, qualities he was always attracted to in a woman and the qualities he eventually found in his wife.

He said it would be interesting to see a comic strip from a girl's point-of-view, written by a woman.

Although Cul de Sac is written by Richard Thompson, who is not a woman, sometimes I wonder and muse about the depth of connection between he and Watterson, who has been silent for so many years.

  

* Example: I was telling some friends the other day about my passion for drumlines, and they would not believe me, which made me laugh, which made them not believe me even more. Y'all, I freakin' love drumlines. How could I even be sarcastic about that?

Back in December, I attended a white elephant party at a friend from high school's house.

My gift ended up being the image below, framed. No one tried to steal it from me later, and I can't see why not.

There's something inherently mysterious and delightful about the Bananacorn. Maybe I know deep down that I can identify with Bananacorn more than I could just a bowl of bananas or just a heap of corn. Bananacorn and I. We get each other.

So I decided recently to remove it from the back of my car (where it's been for the past seven months), dust it off, and hang it in my studio. (Thanks, Jorden)

Also, just for kicks, below is the gift I gave, which was in puzzle form. Yes, it was a re-gift (thanks, James and Abby), and it was a hit. It was traded several times whilst Bananacorn and I remained (out of force, but still) committed to one another.