Pokepolitiicans & projects

I went out on my bike to do some errands this afternoon. A very clean-cut business-type told me I was gorgeous while we were stopped at a stoplight (cat-calls are cute when they're polite), and since it's WA state pay-day there was apple juice and cookies at the credit union (I got a few odd glances when I turned from making my deposit and exclaimed "It's cookie day!").

On the way home I noticed a yard full of political signs, including a few I thought were running for the same position. Now a manic little voice in the back of my head is yelling "GOTTA ELECT 'EM ALL!"

Catherine's busy tonight, and this evening the giant I-5 North Project Of Doom starts, so I won't be dancing in Seattle. Suxxor...just when I'd found someone stalk-worthy interesting there. On the upside, my fambly, madalchemist and I are going to see Stardust.

( My to-do list, cut for boredom )

Artz

Immediately after I posted that long-ass project list, I sat down out in the sun and worked happily at a totally different, unlisted project, for an hour. That was kind of silly.

BUT, now I have a colored cartoon to work from for the my fishhook painting ("cartoon" in this case, is the sketch used as reference/exploration for a painting, not something by Disney). It's only a pale, poorly drawn imagining of what the splendid actual oil painting will be,* but bluwyngz has been asking me to put up some art, so ( here it is. )

The image came to me out of the blue one evening, then the details were inspired by the Yeats poem "The Song of Wandering Angus" -

I went out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,
And cut and peeled a hazel wand,
And hooked a berry to a thread;

And when white moths were on the wing,
And moth-like stars were flickering out,
I dropped the berry in a stream
And caught a little silver trout.

When I had laid it on the floor
I went to blow the fire a-flame,
But something rustled on the floor,
And some one called me by my name:
It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossom in her hair
Who called me by my name and ran
And faded through the brightening air.

Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.



*I HOPE.