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We had a busy weekend, hosting my family on Saturday for dinner, and hosting Bradley's family for Sunday dinner. And both evenings I was up until 1am working on artwork for the last of a series of five children's books I've been working on the past few weeks. It's not as bad as all that though because I've always been a night owl. I perk up around 6pm and get very energetic around 10pm and have to force myself to go to bed at a reasonable hour. Which I rarely do.

But I still managed to sneak out for a little thrift shopping Sunday afternoon although I felt oddly guilty. Lots of shops were closed and it was like "why aren't you at home have quality time with your mom? I hope you're not here picking up last minute flowers because you forgot it was mother's day" But it was worth it because I really liked what I found. This picnic basket (for $4.99) actually has a little table that fits inside it. Also good for separating things in the basket so less things get squished. I assume. The table cloth is a previously thrifted item but seems to belong with the basket.
When we go picnicking I like to take a pillow, and I've decided the charming pillowcase (below) will be perfect for that since it has a kind of woodland feel. I bought this from the friendly & talented Marnie at the Trunk sale (I also loved her "play capes" for children). The sale was lots of fun and as usual a source of lots of buying and swapping as well as selling.

I also bought this cutlery roll from Marnie, which will also go in the basket.
My favourite part is the matching napkins.
And while I'm showing off the things I got at the trunk sale, I'm loving this spring scarf created by Dory who posts here. The colours came out a bit dark in the photo, the dark patches are actually navy blue corduroy.
It's warm but not too warm if you know what I mean. Also I like to see the fabrics that other people put together, it's like getting a little batch of someone else's stash.

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James Gurney is asking "What about a book?" over at Gurney Journey. As in: should he write a book based on his blog posts?

I've linked to his posts several times, because there are some fascinating tidbits (painting with vodka, anyone? need to find a rhinoceros chameleon skull?) but also because he knows how to clearly explain what he's doing when he creates art. This lets me fulfill my fantasy of living inside a visual artist's brain. I've always known that artists think differently; Gurney tells me how. (Read this post about when shadows aren't blue.) In today's post, while thinking about whether he should compile his knowledge into a book, he says this:

"There are lots of books now about plein-air painting, and there are books on how to draw dragons or dinosaurs, but there isn’t much that connects observation with imagination..."

That's it! That's why I like reading his blog. How observation connects with imagination. Because that's what a writer needs, too.

What I observe: an F-15C dropping into its approach pattern, circling, then landing on a runway.

What I imagine: a sixth-grade boy trying to hold his breath until the moment the plane's wheels touch the ground.

What I observe: I have on two different shoes, one black and one brown, and I've worn them to church

What I imagine: why a kid would be backstage before a performance, with two mismatched shoes.

What I observe: a school bathroom that is so putrid that no one will go in

What I imagine: why a girl would hide there, with a backpack filled with art supplies

I could go on, but you see it, don't you?

Observe = listen = wait = withhold judgment = absorb

Imagine = create = combine = synthesize = build = choose

The words used to describe the process are different, but the results are the same.

Also on the art front, Julia Denos has updated her portfolio over at Shannon Associates. Her work is so appealing. Observant and imaginative. Go look. (Page 4 holds some of my favorites.)

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I'm so proud of all of you. Not a single person said "fried mermaid" yesterday.

As author Patricia Madson tells it, audiences at improv performances often shout out strange words in the belief that it's creative and helpful. But really, as she points out, once you've said, "fried mermaid," how much more creativity can you stomach? (Sorry, that's my bad pun, not hers.)

Instead, generous audience that you are, you gave me:

Poison ivy, treehouse
uncle, duck, chew
plow, stream, nut
gratitude, window, play
theater, aspiring, light

Each of them lovely words, each worthy of an entire post. My instinct is to use ALL the words, and to dazzle you with my depth and agility in linking them together. But as sure as I do that, someone will add more words, and I'll be back at square one. Which, I suppose, isn't a bad place to be. It could even be the name of an improv troupe: "Square One...because we're always beginning."

I remember doing improv in Theater class in high school. The words my group received were: cactus, diamond and cowboy. (I think. It's been awhile.) We created a mini-Western, in which I, Polly Pricklebutt, the cactus heroine in distress, was rescued by cowboys who rode bucking black diamonds. There was a logic to it all, and snappy dialogue, and we got great laughs.

What I remember most, though, was the astounding fun of making something out of nothing. To say to the audience: I'm a cactus named Polly...and have everyone believe me! No one batted an eye at cowboys lassoing diamonds and then mounting and riding them. I wanted to live in that world forever.

But I don't. I live in a world where trees that cradle the most intriguing treehouses sometimes have poison ivy curled around their trunks. How to get up there?

Should I cry "uncle" and duck quickly out the back, so no one notices that I tried and failed? Or should I chew up the scenery, crying and wailing, and acting my little heart out, oh, woe! oh, woe is me! until someone comes to help?

I could plow up the neighbor's yard, plant a magic nut, divert a stream to water it, and watch over it day and night, waiting for a different tree, a less difficult tree, to grow. Then I could climb it and lightly step over into that treehouse, as cleverly as Jack in the old tales. I would wave out the window to those below, waiting for their applause.

But who would be there, watching still, after all those careful years? Theater happens in real time. This blog happens in nearly real time. If I post about improv or library cats or gratitude, Google sweeps it up, and carries my words out, where other readers find them, before I have time to even catch my breath. Those readers arrive, bearing gifts, more words. Sometimes, the author of the book you're reading even shows up. (Thanks for coming by, Patricia!)

I don't think there is such a thing as an aspiring writer on the Internet. We all just write and what we write becomes part of the day. What we write becomes part of each other. I honestly had no idea what I would make of your words when I began to write this post. Now I see where I was going:

I do live in a world of cacti, diamonds and cowboys. I also live in a world where there is poison ivy. And now, I'm going to speak up for that ivy, because I had it all wrong. The ivy wasn't a symbol of an impenetrable barrier; it was a metaphor for what spreads. Because I forgot that just because "poison" and "ivy" arrived together, they don't have to stay together. They can get up and find new seats. Poison, you go over there and be helpful, answering the phone at the Poison Control Hotline. Ivy, honey, I've got a job for you: think you can lift me up---up there?

Oh! look! I did use all the words---showy, showy me---and I'm right where I want to be, in the ivy-covered treehouse, with all my friends. Let's put up a sign and spread the word:

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Give me three words. I'll blog about them tomorrow. I promise.

What's going on? I'm reading Improv Wisdom: Don't Prepare. Just Show Up by Patricia Ryan Madson. And I need you to help me. So toss some words into the comments section. That'll be what I blog about. Eeeeeek!

Here are some ideas from the book:

"When speaking in public, don't use a script. Write down questions and answer them."

"Change the location of a familiar activity." She (Madson) tells her students to: "Find a new place or different vantage point in the circle."

From the chapter called "Be Average": "What is ordinary to you is often a revelation to others."

"Life is all about balancing, not being balanced."

Oh, and if you want to get in on the improvisation of a group poem, go join the renga fun at The Miss Rumphius Effect.

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