When I find a tv show that I like, I binge watch it. I finish an episode, and say “one more!”  Then I do that over and over, clamoring for more of the story.  

With movies, I tend to get bored. They’re too long.  There are a couple of movies I can watch over and over and never get tired of them. Ask my kids. They know the ones. 

Recently, I had a houseguest who brought her sleeping bag into my room, laid on my floor and listened to Flash Meridian. 

At the end of each episode, she called out “More!  More!  One more!”  She wasn’t familiar with the story, and through her, I was able to hear it in a new way.  I got to be an observer.  

I have said that the story writes itself, like the Ololian book does, and I found myself swept up with her.  The questions she asked brought a new dimension to the adventures, and I was moved by them in a way I didn’t expect. 

You know how I say that I can’t see a painting when I have a paintbrush in my hand?  I have to hang it on the wall and look at it casually, just seeing it for what it is, and not thinking of what I can do to it. That’s how my friend let me see my own story, and what a gift that was!

I recently recorded the audiobook, and you can listen to it if you want to at flashmeridian.com by clicking the audio files tab in the header… or bring your sleeping bag to my house, and I will listen with you. 

I’ve spent much of my life waiting for my ship to come in.  I don’t mean a boatload of treasures.  Today I was thinking about so many wonderful things I have owned in my life, and let slip through my fingers.  Maybe I didn’t realize the value of some of the possessions… cars in particular.  But we can’t keep everything.  I’ve owned four houses, and have filled them with things.  I couldn’t move it all.  No, the ship I’ve been waiting for is contentment.  Peace, maybe.  But these are feelings, and change often.  So I will enjoy them as they come.  All the objects are temporary, as well.  They can enhance our experience in these physical bodies, which are objects.  I think our ship comes in to carry us away when we’re ready to leave even our body behind.  It’s only natural.  Until that ship comes in, I’ll enjoy the physical environment I’ve built around me.  This space I’ve assembled is conducive to creativity. In my fortress, I’m safe to think and express. 

Pretty much my whole life, I have felt that I was not smart.  I believed I couldn’t do math, but then when push came to shove, I aced a math aptitude test and went on to get A’s in nursing school.  I graduated with honors.  

I believed I was a behavior problem in school.  Yes, according to my report card, I was talkative in 4th grade.  I’ve always been talkative.  I don’t see talkative as a bad thing.  My mom saved all my report cards, and I got them back after she died.  Most of them have congratulations slips attached to them because of how well I did.  How did I not know this?

I’ve written about this before.  I’m reiterating it so I have something to attach a few images to.

Not perfect, but definitely not stupid.

There is such a disconnect here for me.  I’m trying to nurture my inner child, and I will continue to advocate for him.  I do the same for my kids and grandkids.  

Taas vaaleanpunaisia ​​ruusuja

This is an acrylic monoprint. I painted the image onto an 8″ x 10″ Gelli plate.

Timmy wanted to watch Batman the other day, and I thought I’d do some loose sketches.

I started painting fish in the branches of trees back when I lived in Grand Marais, on the north shore of Lake Superior.  People asked why there were fish in the trees, and I said it was because the area was built on lumber and fishing.  A more personal interpretation is that a fish in a tree is a symbol for dyslexia, one of the gifts I was given in the genetic lottery.