The Color Purple

I've been into decorating interior spaces since I was 15. My sister, Barb, and I shared a room during our teen years. Barb was pretty cool about giving me creative control not only of our room, but our clothes as well. I designed a chart designating who would wear what on which day so we would not fight over our clothes. This probably kept us from killing each other.

The colors I used in our bedroom was blue and orange. These are contrasting colors that look great together. At first my family thought I was nuts for selecting such an odd combo but after seeing a table lamp I painted in those colors, they quickly came on board. My Mom ended up sewing curtains and bedspreads that matched.

For my new studio

I picked the Glorious color scheme
from the Olympic Paint Audubon Collection.

Click on picture to see larger image & paint names.

I used Blackberry Jam B41-5 for the bookcase wall, Brown Clay B24-5 for the studio walls and Apple Cider B18-4 for the ceiling.

Why I didn't stick with lighter colors?

Simply because

I wanted a color
I promised myself
I'd use one day
on my walls.

The Color Purple

One of my long time, dear friends, Penny, had the coolest house in the early 70's I've never forgotten. Her husband was an artist, and she was an extremely creative woman, and the mayor of Meiner's Oaks, CA, a small burb in the Ojai Valley. Penny owned a plant shop in town that also doubled as the mayor's chambers. In the middle of the large room filled with lush green plants from ceiling to floor was a group of cozy chairs holding court on an old Oriental rug. The coffee was always hot, and guests helped themselves to a mug and a seat on the rug. Many a world problem was solved in the mayor's office including some of mine. Penny always made time to shed some light on my darkest hours with words of wisdom.

Penny, and Mrs. Briggs, her Benji type dog, rode to "her office" on a Moped. Mrs. Briggs sat happily in a basket on the front wearing a scarf around her fuzzy neck that flew behind her like a kite tail. Everyone in town waved or honked at them as they flew by. I can't help but smile at the memories of Penny's long legs straddling the motorized bicycle with her back straighter than an arrow, and her curly, short hair never looking worse for the ride.

Penny's home has remained my creative influence to this day as a model of freedom, ingenious hospitality and living outside of the box. She painted her walls in rich colors that not only made Bob's art literally POP off the walls but also transported me to a mystical place whenever I gazed at them. She introduced me to Peter Max and drinking wine out of Mason jars. I guess you could say her style was an eclectic, hippie, yet cultured blend. I always felt at home in her house and was amused and awestruck by the funky things she used to decorate with. Penny was cool long before anyone on HGTV ever thought of marketing the "re-purposed, shabby chic" style so many are claiming as their own ideas-invention. We hippies birthed that movement out of necessity and good herbs...

There was one room and hallway that was painted in this deep plum color. I'd never seen anyone use any color like this on a wall in my entire life. Purple? On a wall?? I can still close my eyes to this very day and feel the yummy way the color made me feel when I looked at it. I vowed to myself I'd paint some walls purple in my home one day... Hence, my choice for using Blackberry Jam for the focal point in my studio.

I wanted a color that would accent the dark wood of the built-in shelves and cupboards. I wanted a color that would make my paintings POP off the wall like I'd seen in her home some 40 years ago. I wanted one of my favorite memories to come to life again. Plus, I want to make some new, fabulous memories for others to take with them on their journeys in life as they soak up a piece of my world today.

a sneak peak of the studio...

After surviving a near-death experience.... Why wouldn't I want to paint some walls purple?

Add some color to your world.
You can always repaint it white,
or black,
or tangerine,
or blueberry...
or anything you want to.
It's just paint....

My New Studio

The Inspector stopped by recently to survey my new studio. He was very careful to check out every corner, every square inch, every single tile.

Gulp....

Look at the determination and dedication in his face.

He has a job to do.

Many are called but few are chosen.

As he rounds the final corner I hold my breath.

Will he approve or disapprove
of Woodstock Lily's new art studio???

Stayed tuned...
Inspector Opie Taylor
Always has a colorful tail...
Errrr... I mean TALE

Booby Traps

One night when I was about 3 years old I woke up to find my bed full of snakes. In the moonlight I could distinctly see slithering bodies crawling all over my bed. I screamed like Macaulay Culkin in the movie 'Home Alone' which of course woke the dead, and everyone in my house.

"Arggghhhhhhh!!!!! There's sneaks in my bed!!! There's sneaks in my bed!!" I cried.

My dad ran into the room and flipped the light on. He found me sitting up pointing to the covers at the bottom of my bed. It didn't take him long to figure out I thought the wrinkles in the bed were snakes except I couldn't say snakes so I called them sneaks. My dad smoothed out the wrinkles to show me they were just wrinkles--not snakes. Soon, I saw he was right. There were no sneaks in my bed--none at all. My imagination had grown some monsters in the dark and until the light fell on them, I couldn't see what was really there.

I thought of this story a few weeks ago when I was waiting to see the doctor about the lump I found in my breast. It was nearly as big as my thumb and on the right side of my breast. My imagination started to run wild with thoughts of "what if it's cancer???" Fear put me in a choke-hold. But even if I wanted to... I couldn't pull the covers over my eyes in an attempt to deny this sneaks existence. It was real and I had to face it--head on.

I had a woman radiologist the day I had my mammogram & ultra sound. She came in after both procedures to let me know what the lump was. My lump is a cyst. Tears fell down my cheeks as fast as heavy weights falling to the floor. I cried because of the huge relief I felt. I cried for joy because I didn't have to wait another week to get the results. It's in times like this we can become ill with worry waiting for news.

And much to my embarrassment, I also cried because I had not had a mammogram in over 10 years. I'd been foolish for waiting so long. I winced at all the times I'd scheduled mammograms then canceled them a few days before my appointment. Let's face it, it's not comfortable to have your boobies pressed into a pancake or wafer. I could always come up with an excuse why it was OK to wait. I told myself I'd make another appointment but I never did. The truth of the matter is that taking care of myself in every area should be a priority... not an option. Then I cried because I had put my health last as many women do. Yes, I was a slippery snot bucket by the time I left the hospital. I could have been rented out as a slime machine for a kid's party.

Fear can sneak up on you and plant some deadly seeds. I've done this with PTSD and my fear of driving or being in a car, too. I heard a saying once that said it best about fear.

'Fear is the darkroom
where negatives are developed.'

So if you haven't had your check up in awhile...please do. You are worth it and your boobs will get over the squish job. Don't give the sneaks in life a place to grow into monsters. Shed some light on your thoughts so they don't become negatives.

'Pink Lady'
Watercolor and Ink by Lille Diane

I'm Marrying Superman

Yes... It's true. I'm marrying Superman. On September 25. How could I say no to someone who has loved me as deeply, as sincerely, as sweetly, and as completely has he has loved me? I cannot. My family and friends will agree I'm making a wonderful choice. He is a Super Hero to all who meet him.

In preparation for the BiG event we've been doing some remodeling at The Fortress. (Superman's abode) The first thing we did was to redo his beautiful sun room and turn it into my studio. I'm sitting here now watching the sun's last wisps of warmth settle into the west through some gigantic windows. The view is relaxing, lush, private and serene. This is a dream come true in every way. [before and after pics coming soon]

I have Wonder Dog sleeping at my feet and Opie Taylor (errrrr I meant to say Opie Wan Kenobe) is watching the last few birds eating from the Fortress bird feeder. With that sweet note... I'll say, "Goodnight, dear ones..."

Here's To Survivors

We are all survivors of something; illness, accidents, adventures into the unknown, climbing trees, childhood, being a teenager, marriage, divorce, parenthood, first loves, break-ups, bankruptcy, storms, cancer.... the list could go on and on. This post is to celebrate Survivors everywhere.

Today is the 2 year anniversary of the auto accident that changed my life forever. As I look back, even at the really difficult times I thought would never end, I can see a journey that's taken me to places I may never have experienced had I not been in that van that fateful day on May 4, 2008. All four of us in the van, and witnesses, know without a doubt our lives were not supposed to end that day. Our missions here on Earth were not finished. And I think I can speak for all four of us when I say it gave each of us the desire to make the most of everyday and appreciate each breath we can still take. Every second is precious. Our hearts embrace the ways we can make a difference in our own small corners of the world. Every sunrise and sunset is a gift.

If you are a survivor, leave a comment to celebrate with the four of us in the van 2 years ago; Dylan, Stacey, Colleen, and I. Celebrate the spiritual awakenings you've had, the second chances, the new beginnings, or the ability to hug a loved one because you survived a near miss or a direct hit. Celebrate the fears you conquered. Celebrate the nights you couldn't sleep for worrying, and in the end, things weren't as bad as you thought they were. Celebrate your eyesight and ability to read or write. Celebrate new friends that come into your life just when you need them. Celebrate another day to be able to laugh right out loud, and behave as goofy as you want to. If you snort when you laugh that's another reason to celebrate.

I'm officially back from my blogging break. So much has happened I cannot wait to share it with you all. But for today let's just celebrate life with all its mysterious, wondrous twists and turns.

For my new readers you can read more about the accident that officially started this blog if you

CLICK HERE

Please take a minute to post a comment about what you are celebrating surviving. I'm so glad you are here with me. Or should I say how happy I am to "still" be here with all of you~

Post Card From My Brain

I'll be back really soon. My writer's brain needed a hiatus. I'm not sure where it went but it sent me a post card saying;

Dear Woodstock Lily,

I refueling and will be back soon with some juicy, delicious output for you to play with. Don't worry. Kick your feet up and leave the creative hunting up to me. I'm bringing you back a super, uber, duper batch of inspiration. Sassy, baby!

Love,
Your Brain

PS... hold on to your monkey pantz, darlin'. I'm bringing back a truck load of fun.

Going Commando....

In the mid seventies, my best friend and I traveled through Mexico by train and hitchhiking. It was a 2 month long trip I could write a book about. Here is one story from the adventure. Carol and I did a lot of hitchhiking in those days. We followed our free hippie spirits wherever they led us. Those were different times, magical times and youth played a huge part in many choices I made. I still have that spirit inside me but nowadays I weigh things out before sticking my thumb out to follow a wild idea without proper safety gear---or attire. I learned a valuable lesson during that trip.

So with backpacks packed to max and my guitar slung over my shoulder... off we went.

My friend Steve took us to Mexicali where we needed to catch our train. We arrived early afternoon. I could smell adventure in the air, and wanted to ride it like a stallion. We parked the car and got out to explore the city on foot. Steve, who was a family friend, was nervous about our plans to travel unescorted through Mexico. Despite him wanting to handcuff us to him for safety reasons, he reluctantly followed along behind us.

People were lined up on the streets so we pushed through the crowd to see what was going on. A parade was heading our way. The circus had come to town, and they were seducing every man, woman and child to follow them to the circus tents set up in a large arena nearby. How could anyone resist an invitation as sweet as this? Loud music, clowns, acrobats, caged tigers and brightly painted elephants... sweet surrender.

It was a hot day and I was grateful I'd worn my sundress; a short, short sundress, a favorite of mine. Carol had on cutoff shorts and a halter top. We stood out in the crowd of locals, Carol being blond and Scandinavian looking, and me being tall, and wearing a dress that barely covered my tush. Steve noticed the Mexican men had no objections to overtly voicing their approval of two gringo senoritas. He almost growled at the lustful men gawking at us. Carol and I laughed off his sudden 'big brother' attitude. I think back now at how gallant, and caring he was. He was my brothers best friend, and felt responsible for us. He followed us, as we followed the circus, to the arena.

We climbed up the bleachers to get a good seat to watch the preview show of what we could expect to see inside the big tent. I'd never been to a circus before and was swept up in the excitement like dust on a Swifter pad. The men handling the wild animals and elephants noticed Carol and I in the stands. They began making eye contact, and gestures as if showing off for us. Truthfully I was more charmed by the elephants. I loved them since I first saw the Disney movie 'Dumbo'. My lifetime dream had been to ride an elephant so I was fantasizing about an elephant ride not a rendezvous with a circus worker.

When the preview show broke up the men motioned for us to come down from the stands to join them. Who can resist a man with an elephant? Not I! Down I came stepping over small children as if they were hurdles. I wanted to touch, pet, hug and look an elephant in the eye--directly. I fell into the arms opportunity with no reservations. My dream was coming true.

I suppose the circus workers knew an elephant had charms to draw women to them just as a puppy does. There was no hiding my joy and gratitude for being asked to see the elephants. I was putty in their hands. I marveled at the elephant's eyes so small yet so wise, and trunks reaching out to touch my skin and their huge feet shifting weight back and forth rhythmically, hypnotically. I was drunk on peanut breath and their giant ears that fanned my face in the sweltering heat.
A crowd had formed around us by now. One of the men invited Carol and I to take a ride on the elephants. I couldn't contain my joy. I squealed out loud like a monkey being handed a banana. The men used a stick to signal the elephants to kneel down so we could climb up. It was still a long way up even after they knelt. Carol accepted the boost up by a couple of guys and I watched as her elephant rose up graciously with her on its back.

I moved to the bent knee of my elephant, which makes a step at the elbow, to mount it just as Carol had done. The elephants handlers bent down, and cupped their hands for me to put my foot in for my boost up. I grabbed a hold of the side of the elephant's ear per their instruction when I noticed an alarming sight. Underneath the polka dots painted on the thick skin was some of the meanest, baddest, wiriest hairs I'd ever seen. They looked like porcupine quills or thick needles poking up everywhere. They felt like it, too. That's when I remembered an important item.

I was not prepared for an elephant ride that day.

Firstly the short skirt I was wearing exposed a lot of skin. Secondly, and most importantly, having a carefree spirit as I did... I went commando all the time. Yes, yes, yes, I know! What was I thinking by going without my panties wearing a short skirt???? Truth of the matter I never gave it a thought. I never once thought anyone would know I wasn't wearing underwear. My skirt covered my ass... well barely... now that I'm looking back on it with wiser eyes. (one day I'll tell you another story about wearing that same dress horseback riding.... Lord I just realized I may have been an exhibitionist. Holy CRAP!)

In my defense, where I came from was a large hippie community in Ojai, CA and none of my friends wore underwear either. Heck we hung out at the nude swimming holes, nude beaches and regularly participated in sweat lodges... sans bathing suits, too. HOWEVER... suddenly this was not so cool in another country, hundreds of miles away from the safety of my com padres back at the commune I lived in.

There was no blanket on the elephant's back. I thought of the hairs poking my... ummmm... well no need to paint you a picture at this point. I'm sure you have a visual now whether or not you wanted one. Next, I thought of the guys hoisting me up and the entire crowd of people seeing my 'woo-hoo' as I straddled the elephant. I turned a bright shade of yellow like the cowardly lion. The men saw my hesitation and started chanting in unison for me to slip my foot in their hands. It was then I also realized they must have know I had no panties on from their view of the bleachers as I sat there childlike (and probably unladylike unbeknown to me) watching the parade. Oh Lawdy... I'd only been in Mexico for an hour and I already had made some memories.

Inside I was so mad at myself for not having my cutoffs on like Carol. They were leading her around like the Queen of the jungle while my butt got a rash just thinking about rubbing against the coarse hairs I never knew elephants had before seeing one up close and personal. I didn't want my butt to know this kind of intimacy EVER and backed slowly away from the elephant, the now disappointed men, and chose to spare the small children the peep show.

The moral of the story???
If you want to ride an elephant
in the circus
you GOTZ to have your
monkey pantz on...

I now have this on my 101 list.
Ride an elephant...
with my monkey pantz on.

The End
(pun intended)

For those of you who are new to my blog or just passing through there's a definition of monkey pantz on my sidebar, and here is the link to my 101 Creative To Do list. 101 LIST

Daffodil Armor

This past week our weather turned
from perfect spring days

to what looked like winter again...
literally overnight.

I took this picture Wednesday morning.

See the snow covered daffodil?

My first few winters here in the northeast I would panic when a blast of winter arrived at my garden gate and covered my crocus, tulips, hyacinths and daffodils with a blanket of snow. I'd rush out to pick them then put them in a vase inside the warm house so I could at least enjoy the fairy-like flowers before the snowfall robbed me of their beauty. After a few winters of plucking the delicate blooms in fear of losing them I realized they were far stronger than I given them credit of being. The nearly transparent, dainty petals had an armor that was invisible to the naked eye. Underneath the seemingly fragile blossoms lived a warrior that was determined to survive no matter how harsh times got. When I gave it more thought I understood we'd have no flowers if flowers were that wimpy.

So this past week when it snowed over 4 inches and covered my daffodils, I thought of how my fears of being in a car cover me in a blanket of ice, snow and darkness. Fear covers me from seeing my future and freezes my hope of ever blooming again. This is what could happen to me if all I focus on is the snow instead of the flower underneath. I don't want that...

And then as if Glenda the Good Witch waved her magic wand on my world, the sun came out and melted the snow like it never existed.

Two days later.

The daffodil comes to life.

My desire to live,
to bloom,
to grow,
to shine,
to laugh,
to love,
to give,
to survive,
to believe,
to hope,
to know,
to be,
WHOLE....
Can melt my fears away.

My mission on Earth
is not over
It's just beginning
to sparkle
as brilliant as a snowflake
and as bright as sunshine
on a daffodil~

Woodstock Lily Meets Woody

Take a look at what I found in the woods.

Shhhhhh... we're sneaking.

Meet you there.....

I double dog dare you
Not to tap your toes to this.
A wee film from my friend
Who lives in the Scottish Highlands~

My New Keyboard Player

I can hardly wait to show off my new keyboard player to you all. I had no idea he had it in him. I knew he was clever beyond clever but this?!?! The new album is sure to be a huge success. I seem to attract just what I need at just the right time. We signed the contract last night.

I iz good....

Happy Spring!!!

Happy Spring Everyone!

I cannot wait to see what blooms
in your yard this year.
Plant seeds of joy, hope and love.
~Then watch them grow~

Mile Markers

Look. A mile marker. I am almost to my one year anniversary for my blog. I started it without knowing if anyone would even read it. I started it because I needed to heal, find something to do while I healed, and to lift my spirits. I started it to light my creative heart on fire, and actually create a list of all the things I wanted to do with my wonderful life. I understood I had been spared from dying and have been grateful beyond words to have another shot at living my dreams. But first I needed to heal, and I had no idea I would still be in the learning curve of how to get back into the game of life nearly 2 years after the auto accident.

I'm OK with that. OK with taking care of me. OK with what I've learned from the 'gift' of an unexpected life altering change wrapped in a package called... PTSD. This is a gift I'm learning from and hopefully helping others who have PTSD heal, too.

Art heals. Writing heals. Music heals. Having a good therapist (thanks Dr. Ed and Mary) helps me heal. Having supportive family & friends helps me heal. (thanks, Jake & Ash. thanks, Mommy. thanks, my dear Dylan. thanks to so many of you! I cannot list all of your names individually for fear I will omit someone special) Having a real live Superman in my life has helped me heal. Having Opie Taylor, errrr I mean Opie Wan Kenobi here at my side faithfully has helped me heal. Having met so many of you here online in the blog world has helped me heal. I started keeping track of how many people stop by about a month after I started my blog. WOW!!!

Over 20,000!!!!

And for those of you who fly by, read my blog without ever letting me know you were here. Thank you so very, very much. The numbers tell me you were here, and come back over & over to see how I'm doing. Thank you so much. I feel like you are angels popping in to bless me.

My 101 Creative To Do List is up if you'd like to see what I've accomplished this past 11 months. CLICK HERE TO SEE LIST

I'm moving into warp speed to complete a bunch more on the list before the official one year anniversary. There's a contest I promised you coming up, too. In fact several. I didn't forget the contest I mentioned when Lisa received her painting from the last contest. [insert HUGE smile here] You can read about it here. LISA's Painting

Opie has some tricks up his monkey pantz to show you, too. We are officially into the count down of the one year mile marker. Let's get this party started!

We need to let some of the party favors
outta da monkey pantz...

Eye Candy

This is what makes my heart race, pure and simple.

It's my drug of choice.

I love to see my art supplies when I walk into my studio. It's my visual eye candy. I love seeing paint on my sleeve or on the side of my hand when I'm standing in the store reaching into my purse to pay for groceries. I love peeling layers of glue, Mod Podge or some other gel medium off my fingers or palms. These are all reminders I'm living my dreams.

I love seeing my signature on a finished piece of art.

Or looking at a page in my art journal.
I carry it with me everywhere I go.

Or seeing an angels eyes looking back at me as she comes to life.

Eye candy....
This is my eye candy.
For you it may be a garden you've worked with your hands.
A tiny, soft green sprout pushing through the soil.
A masterpiece you've baked to perfection.
A smile in your child's eyes.
A droplet of sweat trickling down your face after
a bike ride or a Zumba class.
A steaming cup of hot tea shared with a best friend.
A perfectly balanced checkbook.
A clean house.
A racy sport car with the top down.
~*~*~*~*~*~
What is your eye candy?
What makes your heart skip a beat?

Embracing Today

I really do embrace every season. It seems we often spend more time waiting for or talking about the next season than really savoring the gifts of the current one. Soon it will be summer, and we'll be complaining about how hot it is... We'll be wishing for an icy, cool breeze to take us away from the sizzling, sweltering heat. We'll begin talking about how nice it will be to wear sweaters again.

How much time do we really spend here today?
Right now--in this precious moment.

Yesterday Superman took me for a winter walk. I had a doctor visit that was quite a distance away so to help me cope with the traffic [and my tired foot from helping him brake on my side of the car] he broke up the trip with a glorious reminder of the beauty in "today".

I am OK...

I can find my center and remember how to be here now.
My joy to be alive is bigger than my fear of being in a car.

And a great winter hat is always a reminder why I have every reason to smile.
Besides....
This hat goes great with a pair of monkey pantz.

Pink Lady

Here's a collage of my new art. The Pink Lady, Dragonfly Moon, and Butterfly Heart are water colors. The bottom right is colored pencil and ink.

I'm updating my 101 Creative To Do List and will have a link up for it soon.

My kid's are traveling through New Mexico right now. Emery has been a great traveling baby. Thank you all for keeping them tucked in your thoughts, and sprinkling them with prayers.

My Interview with Laura Hollick

So what does one wear for a Skype interview??? The same things newscasters wear under their desks.... A bright, bold colored pair of Monkey Pantz. Uh huh. Just like I promised. Neon, baby. Hey a girl has to do what ever it takes to keep the sass in her pantz. Here's some info about Laura. I love this woman's spirit!

Laura Hollick

Laura Hollick is one of the emerging creative thinkers in the Human Potential movement that is sweeping our planet. She is redefining art as a way of living and inspiring people around the world to create their lives as a work of art. Selected from across Canada, BRAVO TV created a documentary about Laura's life and work, called 'The Artist's Life'. She has hosted and produced over 500 radio shows and published over 200 articles on creativity and lifestyle that expresses the creative spirit.

Laura’s personal art is a reflection of her unique creative spirit. She often combines elements of nature and transforms them into imaginary worlds that seduce us to deepen our awareness and lead us home to spirit. Laura’s work is an inspirational feast for the soul. In 2008 Laura was nominated for "Artist of the Year' and in 2009 was voted 'Best Female Artist' by View Magazine.

At the heart of it all Laura's work is a deep desire to connect with spirit and connect spirit with the world, to grow spirit on earth. She says, "My life is my soul's work. I am here to create my masterpiece--myself."

Check out my audio interview with Laura and her studio, Soul Art. And my Monkey Pantz below...

Click Here for the Laura Hollick Interview

Please leave a comment on Laura's blog to let her know you were there...

Psssstttttt.... FYI

Superman Delivers

How many girls can say they got flowers, lilies to be specific, from Superman? Aren't they beautiful? Oh baby, he does more than deliver... [that may have sounded kinky...] I'll have to get one of those blogs with an adult content warning to proceed... Nah... never mind... There's just some stuff ya'll don't need to know anything about.

What I meant to say is that Superman anticipates my needs before I do as well as what would bring me joy, peace, a smile or will bring healing to my body, and mind. It has to be that X-ray vision. He can see into my soul. Truly he can.

If you knew how many times I ask him when we're driving, "Can you slow down please?" He answers sweetly, "Sure, Wonder Woman." Even when he's already going 10 miles slower than the speed limit... He never rolls his eyes when I say, "I don't like that car!!!" (for the umpteenth time in 5 minutes) My PTSD tells me the auto is coming straight for our car or is going to weave into our lane. He never makes me feel silly for gasping or hiding my face in my lap. He just moves over in another lane or slows down. On some days I may have more triggers than others. He reaches over and pats my hand or leg.

So when I recently became infected with worms he never flinched! Nope not once... In fact he was the one who diagnosed me.

Oh did I say "me"?? I meant to say my puter had worms. Boy... Opie just ran out of here like a wild man. Nobody likes to hear the word worms unless you're going fishing. And a cat certainly doesn't want to hear you say they have worms or wants to eat a "funny shaped piece of cheese" with a hard cylinder inside it... Cats and dogs always know when you're trying to hide a pill in their kibbles. But what you don't always know is when your puter has become a home for critters of the viral type, the worms of cyber space, the bots and villains that prey on the innocents. Until it is too late. Creepy....

But who is Superman's alter ego? Clark Kent. Mild mannered computer wizard. He's not afraid of no stinking worms. So if you were wondering where I've been...

I was hiding under the bed.
The bots know where I live.

Well not really... but I've been without my laptop for awhile. So I'm very happy to be back here in Blogville. I missed you all terribly!

Thank you all for all the love you sent my way for my Mom and my son. Jake, Ashley & Emery are leaving early Saturday morning for CA to visit his dad. Please keep them in your thoughts. They're driving from here (OH) to CA. Long trip with a baby.

My Mom is home, and is doing really well. Her surgery went much better than we could have hoped for. I can't even begin to tell you how happy that makes all of us.

Stay tuned. I have some really cool things to share with you in upcoming posts! New art. Pics of the Lily Pad. A blog radio interview. An update about the contest I mentioned having about a month ago. [see how I just tossed out a teeny, tiny tidbit about a totally, freaking, sah-weet blog radio interview like it was lettuce on a sandwich when actually I'm about to wee muh giddy self from sheer excitement???]

Plus, a peeecture of me wearin' muh monkey pantz... Uh huh... Neon, baby.

Prayer Request

Jake and Emery

My son's daddy isn't doing well. He's battling throat cancer. It's very hard for so many people right now especially my son, Jake. Please say a prayer, and send comfort, and peace to cover us all in a blanket of love.

And lastly, please pray for my Mom. The surgery on her back is tomorrow. The last 2 years have been really rough on her. I'm just sick that I cannot be with her. One day I'll be able to drive or ride in a car anywhere I want to go. I cannot give up hope that this will be a reality. It's times like this I feel so bad that I can't step outside my comfort zone to be with those I love when they need me like my son, and my Mom.

Thank you so much everyone.

The Colors of Winter

Taken from my kitchen window

Winter is alive with color

Even if I only get a peek behind a branch

The color of winter waves back to me

Life at the Lily Pad is psychedelic & colorful.
~Groovy~

Flying Dream: Part Two

Here's the rest of my flying dream... (read part one to see where we left off) There we are, my son and I, hanging out in a bathroom at a Mexican restaurant in downtown Ojai, CA with mousey brown hair dye on our heads.

For those of you who don't know my son, he's been a lead singer & guitar player in rock bands since he was 15, and has probably dyed his hair more often than I have---and that's a LOT! Gotta love creative expression.

Jake becomes concerned about time, and needs to meet Ashley, his wife, so he rinses his hair and bolts out the door. I watch which direction he heads then take my turn in the small sink rinsing the hair dye off my hair. I rinse my head quickly, and run out the door to follow Jake. (I'm a helicopter Mom sometimes... OK most of the time...) I realize he has a pretty good head start so I decide to take a short cut down a side street. I zoom out, and up, to an aerial street map like you see on Google maps and pick my course.

Walking does not seem fast enough so I begin running. My pace picks up, and my legs become gazelle like--stretching out gracefully before me with strides that appear like a super heroine. People start to notice, and make comments, "Wow! Look at that girl running. Her feet are off the ground!" (Yes, I consider myself a girl in a woman's body) I'm elated to see my feet are actually off the ground, and make a decision to fly instead of run since I'm practically flying anyway.

To gain altitude I start making swimming motions with my arms cutting through the air as if it's water. Up, up, up I go... above the buildings, the cars and the people walking on the sidewalks or standing in their yards. Everyone is watching me sail above them. No one has seen someone fly before and this is my 15 minutes of fame. I'm feeling exhilarated, and special, and free. I no longer need to flap my arms, my body is gliding effortlessly as if I weighed the same as a feather.

I'm flying above the main intersection in downtown Ojai where the clock tower is in the center of town. The sky is a vivid, surreal blue. People are crossing the street hurrying to make it before the traffic light changes. In the crosswalk below me are a group of conservative women with shopping bags dangling from their arms. They're clustered tightly together like a quilt made out of polyester squares afraid to touch cotton.

Suddenly a women that resembles the church lady from SNL pulls back from the pack, and points a bony finger up at me as I flit overhead. Her mouth looks like a sea gull's beak, gaping open begging for bread crumbs. I pause in mid flight to discern the words coming from her gullet. They break the perfect, blissful moment my flight has given me as she screams.

"You can't fly! That's not Godly! God doesn't like it when you fly!"

Everyone on the sidewalks and crosswalk stop dead in their tracks. They stare at me barely breathing to see what my reaction will be to her loud accusation. My soul, my heart, my core knows this is not true. Without hesitation my voice resonates through the dead air like a skilled stage actor with perfect diction knowing everyone in the back row of the theater can hear my booming, poised voice.

"F_ _ K, you! God loves it when I fly. He's the One who taught me how to fly in the first place!"

Then off I fly into the sunset as free as a bird. I am free. Finally, I am free.

End of dream....

My son has such a healthy attitude about being different than other people. One time he had a 5 inch hawk (Mohawk) with bleached roots, a 3 inch band of lime green, and black tips. We went out to eat, and the little kids at the table next to us were staring at him. Their parents apologized and said, "Sorry our kids are staring at you but they love the Disney movie "Land Before Time" and they think you are a dinosaur." Everyone in the restaurant laughed, especially my son.

Jake with his leopard look. Ashley created this clever look for him.

Now I really, really, REALLY want to type the "F" word in the sentence above, and not sugar coat it. Ya'll know I never use "that" word here on my blog. (I said on NOT my blog... it's been known to soothe my ruffled feather's on occasion when no other word is bold enough) I prefer to use Frap but it's really the same word.... It's just a matter of switching out a few letters. But I am afraid. Afraid of what you'll think about me if I do.

I know it's just a word. I also know this word is offensive to some people. And let me set the record straight. I love conservative people, freaks, polyester (well I'm kinda lying about that one... OK I am lying right out loud about that one... I truly hate polyester) This is not a post about bashing anyone or anything--except my own fears. Plus, you all know I worry sometimes about what people think about me for having PTSD or panic attacks since May 4, 2008. I "shouldn't" still be afraid to get in a car. I shouldn't be afraid to type the Eff word.

I know some of you would cheer me on to type "it" because you've followed my blog for a long time. Frap is safer to type and this just more Fear being afraid to type a silly word, and that sucks. I loved my dream, and I want to be flipping freer. My spirit knows how to fly. Fudge... I freaking can't stay stuck forever. It's just a frigging word.... Four little letters. I want to let it rip because that's what the dream was all about. Not being afraid. Not allowing people to make me question myself or doubt myself. Not being afraid of what other people think about me even if I do get scared sometimes.... or if I fly too high.... or if I say....

fuck

There I said it.

Frap... that was hard.

And yes, I'm cringing a wee bit....
OK a LOT...

Do ya'll still love me?????