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I took the sentence which is the title of this post, divided the words and arranged them into chunks until each chunk had no meaning. Then I thought about what the combinations of letters represented to me and drew them. I also imagined what Palomia would be like. By the way, Palomia only exists in my imagination, similar to wanting to have "Breakfast at Tiffany’s."

I was happy with the result because it looks like Palomia is an actual, exotic place that I would like to visit. I wonder what breakfast in Polomia would be like.

My house is in the middle of a field. During spring time, huge fields are planted en masse and the planters leave tell tale marks in lines like corduroy. As obstacles are encountered, for example, a lone tree, creek, fence line, house or even a small hamlet must be planted around with as little disruption to the pattern as possible.

They visited doctors, researchers and scientists but all were of similar opinion. Baby Spratch’s affliction was intriguing from a professional standpoint, but they could do nothing to help the child.

This is another Spratch drawing, you can see the other drawings in this series here.

One morning, Mrs. Spratch warmly bundled Baby Spratch in the inky black wool blanket that seemed to be the only thing that settled down the poor little scrap. She called for the sock monkeys and together they set off to see the first in a lengthy line of medical professionals.

The baby didn’t care for her toys, not even her teddy bear. All she was happy wearing was an inky black wool blanket. As hard as she tried, Mrs Spratch discovered that solace could not be found. Mrs Spratch was at her wits’ end.

This is another Spratch drawing, once again you can see the other drawings in this series which is evolving into a story here

When Lucy Spratch grew older, she discovered numerous sealed jars with small figures enclosed in them, hidden in the backyard shed. She pretended they were her friends. As she played, she discovered that instinctively she knew their names.

This is part of the series of Mrs Spratch drawings that I began a year ago. You can see the rest of the drawings here

In this drawing, Lucy Spratch is the inordinately heavy baby grown into a young child.

I’m the worst for projecting personalities onto inanimate objects. For this reason, it makes me sad to see a single mitten left in a snow bank. There’s a giant spruce tree in the front yard of our house and one day I noticed the bumps and cracks in the bark made a smirking face that stared at you when you stood in the right place in the window.

Unfortunately, a gale force wind blew up one winter afternoon about 4 years ago, snapping the tree in half and taking the face with it.

Remember these?

I don't like needles. I really, really don't... Read the rest of this post

This is a quick cartoon from a year ago.

When we were kids, my siblings and I thought those floaters you get in the front of your eyes came from eating too much cholesterol. Therefore, this drawing is a nod to all those childhood myths you either fabricated on your own, or a wives tale some well meaning adult told you.

So, here's the story to go with the cartoon:

Whenever we went to Aunt Lucille's house for dinner, she made baked spaghetti casserole. After dinner everyone had orange around their lips and got bloated with indigestion. Once, Mom asked for the recipe out of politeness. The worst time was when we had to stay the whole weekend because the cholesterol squiggles in front of Dad's eyes were so bad he couldn't see to drive us home.

This image gets quite a few hits from my old blog from people searching for "baked spaghetti casserole" recipes. It appears that baked spaghetti casserole will never die.

This is an image from a story about a woman named Agnes who discovers a mysterious growth on her head that evolves into a little green entity with a mind of its own. Of course, the entity's name is "Sprout".

In this series which you can read here, Agnes takes Sprout for ride in the country; he particulary likes riding down the hills. When they are in the country, Agnes can remove her hat, which normally conceals Sprout from prying eyes, so that he can enjoy the fresh air.

This is Stinky McQuigg. Stinky always gets the raw end of the deal when he plays with his twin cousins.

I have been painting my images, that are usually line heavy, using Photoshop. This image was crying to be painted, I think because of all the simple shapes used in the composition.