I don’t often remember my dreams, and when I do, they are usually the kind I’d rather forget. But this morning morning Jimmy, my sweet little Green Cheek Conure who passed away in 2011, came to visit in full color. He wanted to play, to be cuddled and kissed and skritched just like he used to, first on the bed, then in my lap, then in my hands, where he tilted his head so I could pet his cheek and beneath his chin. He puffed his feathers and rubbed the top of his head and his face against the palm of my hand. It was so real, I could feel the shape of his small body, the fine bones of his wings and his back, and I could smell his faint scent of curry. He was full of energy, hopping from the comforter onto my leg and then up onto my finger as though to say, “Hi! Whatcha doin’? Thought I’d come and hang out with you. Yes, I’m really here. Life is still beautiful. See how sunny it is? Let’s play!”
They say that we don’t remember our dreams unless we wake up while they are in progress, so even though I wanted to stay with Jimmy, I am grateful for the Northern Cardinal who woke me with little chipping sounds outside my window this morning.
Here is a cell phone pic of Jimmy in my hair, in 2007 or 2008. He loved to lean against my neck. Sometimes he would press his head behind my ear. It felt like a little knuckle. Sometimes he’d reach up and grasp my earlobe softly with his beak for a split second, then go back to pressing his head behind my ear. Once in a while he’d just hold my earlobe, simply sit there with it in his beak for a few minutes. I hope we get to play again soon.
By now it should be pretty obvious that I am not the world’s most reliable blogger. Part of it is that I write for a living, and sometimes I just get tapped out. Part of it is that I also keep personal journals, online and on paper, and I write long-form, so that taps me out, too. It’s like I have a finite number of words to crank out in a day, and when I run out, that’s it. Anyway, not that anyone here is waiting with bated breath for my entries, but I thought I’d explain.
Where were we? Ah, yes, those pesky resolutions.
I’m still uncluttering. Anyone visiting my abode would never accuse me of being a hoarder in the first place, but there is still a good bit of stuff to clear out, only now it’s stuff I have to think about first. For example, I recently got rid of a box of clips going back to 1998. Clips are tangible evidence of my life’s work, so unloading them required overcoming the feeling of trashing my professional past and ensuring that I have all the information from them I need. But at this point, there is plenty of evidence of my career on the Internet, and Google has made finding sources very easy.
Then there were various and sundry items under the bed, in the bedroom closet, and in the linen closet, things I haven’t used for several years, if at all. So out they went, too, as most of them were obsolete, beyond repair, or hopelessly out of fashion. The linen closet needs more work, but I’ll get to it soon enough. One step at a time. As long as there is progress, it’s a win.
The resolution to do something creative every day fell apart, simply because I’m not officially doing “something creative” every day, like writing, taking photos, or trying new recipes. However, overall, I’m doing a heck of a lot more than I was two months ago. In fact, I need to ban myself from Big Lots because every time I go in there for just one thing, like a refrigerator pad for my grocery lists or a package of batteries, I come out with a bag of craft supplies for my Wreck This Journal. Behold my dining table:
The box of Prismacolor pencils in the upper left was a gift from my father about 20 years ago. There’s one thing I’m glad I didn’t declutter, boy howdy. The art set with all the paints, markers, crayons, pencils, and pastels (ages 4+, heh!) was $14.00, and everything else was a buck here, a few bucks there. The art set isn’t exactly high-end, true, but the crayons and markers alone were worth it. That is a baggie of Inigo’s molted feathers in the lower right. I’ll find a way to use them. Some of the bird toy parts he’s not interested in will come in handy, too, for the pages you’re supposed to fill with circles. I’m going to trace them or use them with paint. As you might imagine, the journal is rather birdie. Finally, something to do with all the bird supply catalogs: collages! Will find a way to use some of his woodchips, too.
Alas, I’ve found that I cannot freehand worth beans. Just no ability to draw whatsoever. This is where that little pad of patterned card stock to the left of the journal has already proven its worth, because I botched some doodles on the cover page. I meant to draw a vine all over the page and it just wasn’t working, so I covered the page with paper in a pink candy-striper pattern and put some black-and-white stickers on it. When I’m finished with the journal, I’ll make a video of it.
I have not bought any stamping supplies, however. Those are the gateway to keeping an art journal, and I do have to earn a living at some point.
This is just awesome.
Will be sure to cook up some real entries over the forthcoming long weekend. In the meantime, I have a deadline tomorrow, so I can only hope to share a laugh with you.