B A B B E L I N G S

With this postcard, my letter was "O" and I thought I'd try an abstract. Something I'm not the best at but I liked how this turned out. Oh, and it got lost in the mail. Never to be seen again.  

My good friend Keely and I have been going down the alphabet creating and sending postcards to each other. This is my dog Bogart a pen and ink. He always liked to stay wrapped up in covers and got mad when you tried to get him up.  

Juror 28 Today I went to jury duty. The 1st one I’ve ever attended. I been summoned a few times before but didn’t go for various reasons. But this time it’s happening. It started with the dreaded letter we all hate to see but there it was and then I lost it and forgot about it. So a few months later another type of letter shows up. The one where they threaten you and make you feel like you are one on trial and it lets you know you may be subject to fines and or confinement. Is scare tactics really what you want to use?  But it worked. I called and a very nice lady said I was fine and they let me schedule it on the day I wanted. And that day is here.  It’s a cool morning in April and I walk into a grey building in a grey room and plop my stuff on a scanner belt, like the ones you see at the airport. The lady is yelling out instructions behind dead eyes and to no one in particular. It’s very  creepy. As I walk through the body scanner, of course it beeps so loud...

Here's the latest little post card exercise, I made for a friend.   It's cut tissue paper and pens.  I enjoy working on a piece of art and sending it through the mail.  I remember years ago when mail art was a thing and how many pieces I created and sent out n their own, into the world like a small bird being pushed out of the imaginest.  I wonder where they all are today.

Well the last few weeks, OK let’s just say the whole damn month has been a bit stressful and exhausting. Today is July something, I don't really remember when June happened, I wish I could say it was the alcohol or something but it’s just good old fashioned age and apathy. Oh, it started out well enough, then the heat came. Lord love the GA summers. The repairs on the house were finally complete, after that damn tree fell through the roof and ended up in the dinning room, but the amount of crap they left in our front yard was ridiculous. Not only were the neighbors asking us when we were going to remove the mountain of stuff, but the contractors blocked our driveway, so I couldn't get in the garage, yea, more places to get hot. I was told multiple times they would come out and clean it all up and they kept making excuses.   We finally decided not to pay them until they cleaned up the damn mess.    Finally one day I went out to move it off the damn driveway, myself, ...

Part 1: Where we try to understand the southern family dynamic and my need to run like hell when I hear the phone ring. Years ago, after I had finally moved out of my parent’s house, I received many phone calls from my mother. She was always checking in on me, as mothers do. She was checking to see if I was eating right, getting enough sleep and washing my clothes correctly (she was a bit of a Nazi when it came to doing laundry, but that is another story). Unfortunately there came a time where the majority of the calls were bad news. An Aunt had a stroke, an Uncle has died, or a cousin has jumped off a bridge and killed herself, yes that one is true. I got to the point where I told her to stop calling me, if all she was going to give me is bad news. So she got my father to call me. My dad’s not a big talker, so usually the only time I talk to him, is when my mom shoves the phone in his face to say hi to me. This time he called me, which should have been a red flag but I’m slow up...