Archives for posts with tag: expression

I’ve actually had fun attempting self-portraits in the past, and I still enjoy trying to draw myself from time to time. 

The urge most recently came about a few months ago when I decided to do a quick sketch from a photo to use instead of a photo of myself as my Avitar for a class I was taking. I liked how it turned out. 

This is a recent attempt that I decided to sketch because of two new things: my perm and new glasses. 

The glasses are inevitable. It was time, but the cost always hurts.

I’ve been wanting so much to come to the page, so I’m writing myself through it. I need to get back to my writing practice. Maybe I feel freer today because a class has ended, because the warm sunshine on my face as I walk to lunch energizes me, and because there is an end in sight to the busy season. 

It’s been at least 10 years since I last got a perm and I swore that I would not get another. I needed a change, a lift to my step. I plunged forward. The hair stylist, also owner of the salon, did a great job. She had done enough perms over the years, that I knew I was in good hands. 

Self-portraits have a tendency to reveal something we may have not noticed about ourselves in that moment that a regular photograph may not catch. Adding the color by mood and feeling adds another element. I love the process. 


Sitting amongst the birch trees,
I listen to the day fade in and out, as I put markings down on the page, coax an image that is enough for me to recognize this moment, eager to continue marking the days–marking the pages with, not only words, but real images. 

I actually didn’t think we would have any view of the strip when we checked in. We were pleased with the view that we did have. It was relaxing to look out the window at Paris, Las Vegas, to see the dancing fountains of the Bellagio that are especially impressive at night from the top of the Eiffel Tower.

It was a great get-a-way. On our last day, walking back to our hotel through busy streets of people–some that had noticeably exceeded their alcohol limits–I felt ready to leave this bustling city.

Yet here I am, missing it already, planning our next trip in my mind.


Blinking lights and bustling streets,
this part of the city never sleeps. As the days run into weekend,
activity and people multiply before my eyes. Romantic lights
of the Bellagio tantalize. Lights and sound from every direction
rest upon my senses, pulling me in different directions. Nature far off in the background, still in sight, offering a reminder–a sense of grounding and perspective.


As I exit the library doors, outside
the majestic pines and quietness of the street wrap around me like a
warm embrace.

The other morning, as I was just about to get out of bed, I heard a “meow” then another. The window was slightly open, so I could hear this mystery kitty. We’ve been hearing loud running on the rooftop at night. We joked that it sounds like a tiger. I got out of bed and peeked through the blinds. Kitty was sitting atop of one of the wooden bench seats. He didn’t see me. I stared at him taking in his black, shiny coat. I clicked my tongue to get his attention; he turned his head, startled. We looked at each other for a moment, I said hello. He responded with a dash, and quickly darted off.

A sound that made me smile extra wide this week was a woodpecker pecking. I rarely hear them anymore and for some reason that sound takes me somewhere evoking a childhood giddiness inside my soul.

Sunday we plan to take the last of our things which will no longer make this home our home. There will be new sounds; lots more birds; yapping doggies, which I’ll be joyed to cuddle with.

When I passed these flowers on one of my walks during lunch hour, I almost went by without taking a photo. I couldn’t help myself; they were too beautiful and happy for me not to take them in for a bit longer.


Black cat meows as if in conversation with himself;
happy flowers stand at attention in flower pots,
waiting to be noticed by passerby;
woodpeckers keep on pecking even when you don’t hear them–
each day–
something the same and something surprising.

365 days of passing
This tree
The same
Yet different

Thoughts spin like a marble,
colors blend together into confusion,
going fast, spinning out of control.
And when the marble stops, there is
a great calm; the colors are vibrant, the surface is smooth–until it begins

Pants that were loose don’t fit,
Pants that were just right are now too tight.
Months ago three bagfuls unloaded that I couldn’t snap closed.
The weight has gradually spread.
What could I expect? Less exercise, more sitting and eating.
Arms, stomach: less muscle, more fatty.
I’m still petite; I don’t actually look overweight, but I feel it,
and, of course, I see it. Hubby sees it too, but
we try to laugh about it.
The proof is in the pants that no longer fit.


And with that, I had to donate another batch of clothing this weekend. I suppose it’s not all that bad. I couldn’t expect to stay the same size forever. I then went to a few of my favorite thrift stores so that I could find some more bargains. I needed to act fast, since the bottom half of my wardrobe is greatly diminished, and means I have to make sure I don’t run out of pants by laundry day. I don’t wear skirts or dresses often, hardly really. I did find some great pants. I haven’t had a pair of jeans that I fit into for months; I sorely miss wearing them. It’s more comfortable with my changing, middle-aged body to opt for a little bit of elasticity, so the jeans that I found in Ross, for quite a bargain, did have room for movement and slight expansion–and yes, I do like a good bargain! And I was happy with the fit.


I wish everyone that lands here, a very happy Friday and much positive light and balance!
: )

The rays of the sun pushed
through the clouds–
broad, downward brushstrokes
filled with the energy of the sun.

Cold virus is lingering. In the last stages. Still coughing. 16 days. Too long. One week in, conjunctivitis (aka pink eye) in right eye, start treatment; pink eye in left eye, more treatment. Two days off work, plus one day of being sick the week before. Missed two of three night classes in a row. Worried. Thought of dropping, emailed the instructor several times. Me, being wishy-washy: one email, I’m telling him I’m dropping the class, missed too much; next email, once I’ve re-thought things over and got encouragement from hubby, I tell the teacher I don’t want to drop, I’ll stick it out only having one absence left. Still kept up with the reading, did the homework, emailed it in. Had already emailed one homework before I got really sick. He read all of my emails and responded with my last question to email my late homework. Other class is online, didn’t miss any classes.

Writing is one of my loves and even so, for some reason, with certain classes I get nervous. It’s like it brings up old insecurities from 20 years ago even though I’ve proven to myself that I don’t need to be worried. Worrying is in my nature. So it was helpful when I received my homework back and I was on track. I was beginning to doubt myself. It’s amazing how powerful the mind is and how it can take you to places you shouldn’t be, how it can take you to the land of insecurity and self-doubt in one breath. It’s a lifelong journey and in some ways, it’s not such a bad thing. It provides perspective and balance.

Haven’t been able to do pleasure reading, but the reading for both of my classes is interesting. It will be nice to get back to the other books too. One in particular: Winter’s Tale by Mark Helprin. I want to finish the book before I see the movie.

Buddha Cat
Friendly neighborhood cat
entertaining himself,
rolling around on the ground
completely submissive–
No fear
Happy laughing cat


Cat on a rock surrounded by bushes
at Kaiser
staring ahead,
suddenly leaps
scurries in and out
what is he after?
I walk over to the bush,
see him covered in leaves,
all but his head.
I try to get his attention
with a cluck cluck sound,
he looks up, then away,
too busy for me.