An optimized use of space. Surface tensions. Beautiful colors and yet transparency at the same time. Wobbly. It’s like life on earth in one bubble clinging to yet separated from other existences trapped in other bubbles. I don’t know, a scientist or more intelligent being would provide a more direct description, “A soap bubble is a very thin film of soap water that forms a hollow sphere with an iridescent surface.”.
One thing we all know is that bubbles pop. They are flimsy and aren’t long lasting.
What to do when you have a migraine? I’ve asked google this question plenty of times looking for some advice outside of the usual. No silly ear piercings or magical quick fixes here.
Headaches are difficult and they cannot always be solved quickly and easily.
More often than not, you will have to simply exist through a headache.
This is a guide to make your headache experience as smooth as possible, in five easy steps!
Step 1: Dim the lights.
Bright lights always make my headaches worse, but everyone will have their own unique triggers. If you haven’t done so before, you should identify (so you can avoid) your migraine triggers. In my case, I will avoid strong smells such as cigarette smoke and bright lights. If at work, close your blinds and door to avoid unnecessary sound/ light.
Step 2: If possible, take a bath. Alternatively, wash your face with cool water.
A bath is the ultimate relaxation technique. Bonus points if you can procure some bath salts, lavender oil, etc. Dim the lights and just let yourself go. I enjoy a hot bath with a cool washcloth on my forehead for a thirty minute soak. This doesn’t cure my headache, but it will help.
Step 3: Drink plenty of water.
Staying hydrated is especially difficult to do when you are depressed, but just power through a glass of water! It will do your body so much good just to have some liquids. Remember, you should drink 8 glasses of water every day!
Step 4: A cup of tea.
I admit it, I’m a caffeine addict. Tea helps me. Add one of your favorite herbal tonics as an added bonus!
Step 5: Give your head a rub.
This one seems pretty obvious, but I was really stretching with this list! It’s easy to forget that you can rub your own head. take your thumb and forefinger and press into your temples slowly in a circular motion. After a while, and a nap, you’ll be back to 100% in no time at all~!
Not enough pants that I can layer, not enough money to pay heat bills, not enough boots or hot cocoa or fuzzy socks. But we’re getting there! A few weeks back, Boise suffered from the earliest freeze in 30 years and a few of my porch plants died. Oh well! I did manage to rescue a few after giving them a thorough haircut but some new growth is still there. And so we start again.
How did the pioneers survive out in these lands with no electricity or accommodations outside of their wood cabins and determination? Absolutely inspiring to think how far we humans have come and especially how rapidly we have changed since the industrial revolution.
It’s November, so that means that little one is turning one year old at the end of the month! Exciting times every day and I am happy I still have time to write & paint & pursue other hobbies with him. At the dollar store, I bought 2 bags of 25 colorful balloons to fill up his playpen for the next 4 weeks so we can have a super fun November! I know at least I love that balloons, and maybe the cat does too sometimes.
I got my hands dirty with some paint this week, working on something from both last week and last summer! It’s a vaguely woman shaped figure with celestial matter spilling out her her guts, standing next to a yellow bird.
The womanly figure’s face must be left intentionally blank, because it’s heavily textured as it glows in the dark. The yellow bird got some more coats of yellow, and some skin tones were improved. I painted some lightning and some stars, more DNA strands and curves a holy light emerging from behind the earth. As per usual, not sure where I was going with this, nor where it is headed, i’m just loving the process!
More on this soon! I hope to have some more time painting this weekend 🙂 Until next time!
Our son is almost one year old. He is happy, grumpy, and gets what he wants. It’s like dealing with a very small, primal version of my husband, of whom has attitude and grump in abundance.
Boise has been good to us this year. My mother came into town for 4 days in October and we drove up to Cascade, Idaho where the snow was kissing the ground and there were colorful trees littered all along 55.
I am anticipating a long, rough winter. I hope it’s our last. I’ve been painting with watercolors, and doing some vector art with Illustrator this week for a friend! I am excited to be able to flex my artistic muscles some more while we adjust to our new normal household situation.
As a side note, while my coffee gets cold: I’ve decided I would love to design and make a toy.
and here I am, on the couch with my laptop and a cup of good old southern sweet tea on the table. It’s the only time I can spare to catch up with writing. I have so much exciting news to share! After deciding working from home would not work with a little one, and trying to jump back into the office life for a few months my husband and I decided to just live on one income until our son is 3 years old. Motherhood requires patience and persistence that I have more of than he, so his stay at home dad arrangement would not work as well.
I thought about our baby boy often at work. The office itself was a different set of concerns, stress and daily headaches that stopped feeling worthwhile eventually. Following my heart always came so easily to me. Now, I get to wake up early and kiss my boy all over his forehead and exhaustedly ensure the apartment is clean and the boy is loved, entertained, fed and happy.
Science says that children are developing their personalities the most in their first 3 years of life, and there are others that believe that mothers specifically are needed for nurturing emotional intelligence in these first few years. For that reason, I decided to take a break from work. I am prioritizing motherhood and there’s nothing wrong with it. I have a lot of anxious cutting the household budget so significantly but the long term benefits more than outweigh the cons.
I am trying to paint more and playing games and having fun and supporting my boy and my man. I am playing the world’s idea of a woman’s role with my life. All these twists and turns and things I never thought would happen. Right over my head. This kid, he will be 2060. He will be 2100. He is beyond me and worth everything. Exciting stuff!
My two best friends came back to Boise last month for our annual meet-up! This time, we drove southeast towards Utah and tried hunting for the fallest vibes, unfortunately or fortunately just a week too early!
It was beautiful and fun. I hope that next year we can go to a national park and i can bring the rest of the family and have baby enjoy the scenery as much as I did. That’s a separate topic, scheduled for later this week. Right now, I have a blessing to attend to. Love and light!
I was recently reading an article about the oldest signs of life on the North American continent were found in Eastern Idaho over this past week. The artifacts found date human life here back about 16,000 years earlier than we previously had evidence of.
It was an interesting read, and I am blessed to be a short drive away from the areas mentioned in the article.
My sister has been staying with us for 2 weeks now, and by gods grace decided to do us a huge favor as a family unit and stay here to provide extra care for Axle while Shane goes through welding school for the next 9 months. I have been spending my weekends and spare time taking her around to see some of my favorite spots, and as a lover of photography and documentation, she took some beautiful photos.
We drove to Twin Falls and to the Malad Gorge and through the Boise foothills and up towards Idaho City so far. We saw Boise looking small from the top of Table Rock and drove until the sun set into the mountains on multiple evenings. It’s a type of natural beauty that is completely different from the kind that you will find in Florida where we are from and where she has been living for the last few years.
It still feels like an area one might expect to see early humans. Dinosaurs, even. The landscapes are sculpted by god and everything makes you feel small and reminds you that one slip of the foot can be fatal. The gorges, plateaus, valleys and mountains emerge violently through the earth and demand to be respected.
I cannot wait for every other moment I will have with him. There’s so much beauty on this planet that it will take a lifetime to see it all. I am blessed with the ability to start showing you these beautiful things now, when you are so small. The world cant make you feel any smaller. I wonder what it could possibly be like to be 9 months old. To have no clue. I wonder why no one I know remembers being 9 months old. I wonder what your mind is like when it’s not even fully formed.
These first two years, they are everything to me and I am trying my best to craft a people person, a gift for the next 100 years. A gift for the rest of the universe. A kind soul. And I am starting out here in Idaho, the valley of life for North America. An under-appreciated, quiet state with the most intimidating earths I’ve stepped foot on. It’s intensely beautiful.
That’s the tune I sing in my own head while I grocery shop with my family. We are calling out to each-other in the aisles like lost animals. Circling the entire store multiple times on our weekly hunt. Vegetables. Meat. Soups and cereal. We forgot cheese.
It’s a nice song by lusine, but I change the words around a little bit in my version. It sort of narratives how out of the way I try to be while existing around other people (in public mostly).
Shane has been painting more than I have been lately, it’s inspiring. I am so grateful for his presence in my life. He is always curious about something different, and always laughing and just being a grounding force in my world.
The one he is working on and most of the women he paint often have pretty spooky, masculine shaped faces and exaggerated curves. This piece has beautiful sunset colors, too so it’s an interesting dynamic.
It’s August and soon it will be September and soon we will both grow another year older.
The hot Boise summer is almost over. I’ll drink even more coffee than I do now. With added whipped cream, pumpkin creamer, and chocolate shavings dispersed on top. I am ready for everything the fall has to offer me this year. From the cooler breezes and crumbs of humidity to the tease of rain and still rare sound of thunder. Myself and my husbands birthdays is always an exciting time, but the most exciting of all is that I get to see two of the best friends I have in this universe.
I cannot wait to see Evelyn and Holly and make interesting art with them and introduce them to this tiny human I made. Holly got to touch my belly when we were sitting in the back seat of my car, driving through Oregon on a quest to see the Pacific Ocean with them while they were up here.
It was bulging and she felt him kick just once. I was 7 months pregnant, sweating through the summer in record Boise heat. They are coming closer to the fall this time and we are going to drive through Idaho southeast into Logan Canyon in Utah.
In mid September, I anticipate a gorgeous display of leaves changing along the mountains. I’ve actually never been, but I looked up drone footage and shared them in our group chat.
Time has been going by so fast, and the year is closing in on me already. I’ll be 30 soon and shortly after that I’ll hold my one year old up in the air, with his silly grin pulled from ear to ear.
I am looking forward to everything the future has in store for me, and grateful for the things the past has afforded me. And, of course, sharing them with you.
That’s what was spray-painted, huge letters that slightly leaned towards the left on a concrete outpost at the top of a scenic overlook called dead mans pass in Oregon.
I got out of the outpost and climbed down, closer to the text. “So it is.”, I said to my companion. I wish it was not stolen. I guess there’s no real way to fix history. I think about it a lot, when I see myself and the other white colored people that I run into in the western United States. Sitting Bull would be disgusted with us, but here I am. I know where I’m from. I can apologize for it forever, but nothing would ever change the past.
I was up all night reading about territorial history in Idaho, Oregon, Washington, Wyoming and Montana. Thinking about that outpost. It was so fucking beautiful.
There’s a lot of ghost towns in Idaho, and I’d like to make a point to travel to them. I want to learn their stories, from all sides. The history of a small towns existence. I don’t consider any cities in Idaho to be really, truly “big”. Not in the sense that I’ve experienced. Boise is the biggest city here and it’s population is under 500k. I can drive through downtown in 10 minutes.
There’s a lot of cities that have populations sitting under 500, very small communities that I don’t understand how the population remains steady decade after decade.
Wouldn’t the children want to move? How does their economy function?
In the late 1800s many small villages and towns formed upon the false promise of gold in the Idaho-Oregon territory. The whites that traveled here did so not knowing, or more likely: not caring that this land was owned and promised to the Native populations that lived here. They fought for this land in the Battle of the Little BigHorn, and they WON! The Nez Perce Indians were supposed to live here in peace but we know how history plays out with white people and any non-white people.
Look at it today. Some cities were developed in Idaho on top of, what is it? Stolen Indigenous Land.
I swallowed my saliva. I don’t see native people out here. They have been systemically shoved into small reservations where they suffer from poverty, lack of education, opportunity and in many cases addiction.
We’re not doing enough. But that’s been the trend, hasn’t it?
Lets hold ourselves and our state representatives and government officials accountable for historic, systemic racism and its effects on modern day populations.
Evening coffee is almost a ritual for me at this point, and it’s been several years. Now, I appreciate it even more as I tiptoe my way through motherhood. My baby is asleep and I’m listening to doom metal and sipping my coffee and reading articles on Indeed.com and Ladders.com on how to make a good first impression.
I have my morning cup and at or around 4:00 pm, I’ll have my second cup. Maybe a third.
The idea was to finish reading Dialogue with Death by Eknath Easwaran and go shop for a new bra. As Eknath puts it in the book, my desire overcame my will. Or anyways, the baby slept so peacefully i dare not wake him. So another cup of coffee it is.
Recently, I ordered a RedBubble dress of my own artwork and it arrived today as per a transactional email. I think the print came out beautifully but I must have misjudged sizing because it’s not very flattering to my figure. I tried my best to model it well, just in case anyone here is interested in ordering one for themselves (!).
It’s very flowy, even moreso for me since I ordered a large. I got a large amount of flow. It feels quite like a decorative bag but thats not going to stop me from living in this dress all weekend.
The original painting is huge and sadly now destroyed. My sister was living in my “earth ship” trailer for a few years and was sadly gliding by in an abusive relationship. The now- incarcerated jerk she was with destroyed it, and left it to rot in a fire pit. I’ll never see it again except for flowing off of my body in this Redbubble dress and online saved as a .JPG and .PNG.
You can check out this painting in my gallery for the original image. Until next time I have a moment and a thought, goodbye 🙂
Antiques. Antique pornography. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t have some kind of appreciation for what women looked like in erotica over the decades and centuries.
Of course I never realized it was specifically European women ( because they get all of the historic representation) when I was in middle school.
Later on I would discover Japanese erotic photographers and artists, but it all started with pinups.
Vargas, of course. Betty Page, an absolute icon. And then, even older photographs of women. From the 17th and 18th century. Large bush and soft bodies. So beautiful, I was enamored. Butts being paddled in muddied black and white. Rarely, but sometimes, a flirty look or even a smile.
There was something regal and classy about the photos. It felt like I shouldn’t be seeing them at all. These photos didn’t feel taken with an audience in mind.
It felt bad to look at them, like they belonged tucked away.
I can imagine young women going out to the forests with a charming man with a camera. I suppose that the same power comes from a willingness to participate in naughtiness and fun would have existed hundreds of years ago as it does now. A comfort with yourself and your own body. That’s the power of womanhood. That’s real divinity in my opinion.
The lighting always seemed natural. So bright. The settings were almost romantic. It wasn’t as rough and violent as pornography evolved to become in 2019. It contrasted sweetness against the modern disgust you can scour the internet to find these days when searching for pornography.
A mystical bush peaks from beneath a skirt, saying hello in the forest as she exchanges stories with a close friend. A cold naked bum sitting on the hood of one of the very first cars, smiling and looking brave. This is the kind of pornography I live for.