urban watercolor...

From last week's Minneapolis adventures...

"2312 Lyndale Ave."
Watercolor and Ink
6"x4" on 10"x7" Cold Press Paper
~~~

"Bicycle"
Watercolor and Ink
5.5"x8.75" on 7"x10" Cold Press Paper
~~~

For sale here @ Patch of Sky.

Sunday Scribblings: "Writing"

It is strange the way pieces of personal history can grown so remote that, somehow, they separate from the central self. Cleaved like an iceberg, those painful bits drift out to sea. Last winter's lack of writing has become a distant memory that I can still feel somewhere deep inside my bones. Mostly, I feel regret for the time I lost, but even as I write the word "regret" I know that it is not exactly true.

It wasn't just the winter that was difficult to get through--it was an entire year (or more like 2 or 3). But it is this past winter that I remember best. The pinnacle of my writerly despair? Winter is the season whose starkness remains the clearest in my memory. I remember it as a time of walking. It was a time of whiteness, brittle branches, and drafts crawling across wooden floors. It was a time of darkly brewed morning coffee served in a large porcelain cup that I held with both hands. It was a fragile occasion, a time of horrible tears and self doubt and mind-numbing nothingness. The more time I had, the less I got done. It was a time of anxiety. Cold air, walking, my wolfie--these are the only things that made it possible to even breathe.

I was unable to do the one thing I love most: write. The void was dull and blunt and, my god, I have never been so scared of the lack of something in my life. Silence looked back at me with its blank face. Words piled up and got tangled like a jumble of broken chairs.

By spring, luckily, I was finally able to give up the ghost. Or perhaps, more precisely, I just plain gave up. And that's when it happened. That's when I started to really write again. That's when words ceased feeling so icy, so broken, so confusing.

In Writing Past Dark, Bonnie Friedman writes about mesmerizing herself with the ritual of language in the same way that the Bushmen were said "to mesmerize themselves, to enchant themselves, to induce a trance state for themselves so that a vision could come, an ecstatic experience beyond what they could reach with their ordinary minds." She explains:

"The Bushmen had visions of being what they hunted, what gave them life: an eland. They had visions of being dead, of being under water--a fish--and they returned from the trance swimming back toward life, their arms gliding, swimming back into the rhythmic pounding of stamping feet. People in the community had to touch them, had to welcome their bodies with their own patting hands so that they could fully return, so that they could be here now."

And that is what this blogging community has become for me. You are the people welcoming my body back into being so that I can start over, so that I can be here now. I first experienced this sort of community in a few good writing workshops--and maybe that is where I learned of its importance. Writing is a solitary act, but something incredible happens where people gather. Finding a balance between letting go and letting in--what could be more dynamic?

Friedman continues by saying:

"This is where wisdom came from: surrendering to what is beyond yourself, where your self is not. Discovering that you are part of an existence that is greater than you, that is greater than even your humanity, although you may experience this only when your thinking self is quenched."

It wasn't until I gave up that I was able to get past myself and all the manic thinking that had frozen me solid.

These days, I write because I enjoy it. I write because it helps me understand myself and the ever-shifting world around me. I write because I have something to say and because I have nothing to say. I write because I am happy, sad, lost, grateful, confused, content, passionate, frustrated. And sometimes I write because I am none of these. I write because I am in love with the details of the smallest moment, the smallest object. I write to remember. I write to forget. I write to be quiet. I write because that is my better half. I write for pleasure. I write because I’m a glutton for punishment and because I like to make life complicated. I write to simplify. I write to sharpen the edges. And then I write to soften them. I write in search of something more. I write in search of truth. I write because I am waiting. I write for revelation. I write because it’s cheap. I write because I’m an idiot. I write to save myself. I write to lose myself. I write because I like the sensation of swimming. I write because I don’t know what I’d do otherwise. I write because I want to. But in the end, I write because I must…with hopes that the rest will follow.

~~~
...and you can find more writing here.

seasonal.

At the moment, I'm blogging from work. My internet connection is precarious at best, but I'm grateful for Jeffrey, who owns the salon next door (and is the keeper of a wireless router) , for saving me from the garden shop solitude that cooler weather promises to provide.

a painting a day: labor day weekend watercolors...

"Paint Box"
3"x4.75"
Original Watercolor and Ink on Paper
~~~

"Caribou"
3.5"x4.5"
Original Watercolor and Ink on Paper
~~~

"My Brother's Row Boat"
6"x4"
Original Watercolor and Ink on Paper
~~~

"Introspection"
4"x6"
Original Watercolor and Ink on Paper
~~~

"Evening Calm"
6"x4"
Original Watercolor and Ink on Paper
~~~

Note: These paintings and others are for sale on my Etsy @
www.patchofsky.etsy.com

reason to celebrate: week one of another new start.

Oh great joy! I think this is an inkling of what it must feel like to be a mother with a day off from mothering. Louis, the lovable and rambunctious pup, went to work with V. today because the first Thursday of every month is "dog day." It never seems to work out because of holidays or business trips, but today it did...which is perfect because it is also my first Thursday of a new schedule. Unfortunately, I'll be adding Sunday to my work week in exchange for having a weekday to myself, but the vast expanse of "Thursday" stretches out before me with wondrous potential. I love my husband; I love my puppy--but no interruptions? Umm....heaven!

At the moment I'm sipping a lovely espresso in my troll cup (reserved for especially wonderful days). And after this wee little moment with you (dear blogging friends) I'm headed downtown on my bike with some paints and a camera. I'll stop at my favorite art store (the one that's independently owned, looks small from the outside, but stretches backwards into an art-filled infinity); then maybe the Center for Book Arts (oh, I love that place!); and somewhere along the lines I'll stop for coffee where there's outdoor seating, pull out the paints, and see what becomes of it.

I water colored while camping (as I hoped I would be able to) and being surrounded by so much endless nature made me think about the different environments that I find myself in. Sometimes I feel like I live with my feet in several different worlds all at once. It made me think about where I find comfort, inspiration, irritation. It made me think about what makes me feel the most alive--and I came to the conclusion that I am a woman of extremes. This can't be helped.

For now, I'm cutting this post short in order to enter this day a little bit further from home. I'll probably be back again later today. Why? Because I can! :) Oh glorious Thursday off!

later,
j.

Expansion.

"Intersecting"
6x6 Acrylic on Canvas
for sale on my Etsy.

I'm drinking the very best cup of coffee that I've had in some time. Dark brewed and Costa Rican. I love South American coffees for their dusty, earthy flavored qualities. If a coffee is good enough and brewed just right, I imagine particular colors swimming across my tongue. The flavor denoting the color. Today the color is burnt sienna with a tiny bit of orange and yellow thrown in. It has undertones in various shades of green.

I'm up early this morning 1) because Louis woke me up with loud yawns and hard snuggles and 2) because I think I'm a little bit excited for a camping trip up north. Our bags are packed and sitting next to the door just waiting for me to get off work tonight so that, directly afterward, we can begin our road trip. Save the moon, it will be dark when we arrive--completely dark, not just city pseudo dark.

I am grateful to have a place like this to go to. The only hard part is deciding what art supplies to bring. I'm entering the 4th week of doing a "painting a day" and am about 6 paintings behind. I can't believe it's already the fourth week! Despite my tardiness in a few paintings, I am a little bit amazed by myself for making it this far. It started our as a commitment but, like morning pages, it has become more of a habit than anything--and I like being in the habit of painting every day.

Yesterday morning I got up early with the dogs and went to sit out in the backyard while they played. I wrote in my journal about the need to continuously stretch my creative boundaries. I wrote about an 8 foot painting that I once did while living in a shack deep in the woods and how it was the first time that I truly experienced that indescribable thing that happens while in the act of painting. I painted with selfless abandonment and the product that came from it was, although not a "good" painting, a powerful one.

I wrote about the need to paint with that same sort of abandonment--without worrying if it will be any good or if it will sell or any of that. As I paint, I find myself learning about myself. It is the same way with writing and I suppose this is exactly why I paint and write.

Anyway, I'm looking forward to heading to the woods. Last night I started packing my painting supplies and quickly realized that my acrylics and canvases were out of the question. With a car full of camping gear and 2 large dogs--hahaha! No way. So, instead, I decided to be brave and pack my watercolor journal, watercolor paints, some paint brushes, and a few pens. Of course, I couldn't help myself and packed a box of oil pastels too. We'll see where these mediums lead me. Watercolor--I know nothing about it. Still, I look forward to sitting down at the end of the dock and seeing what will happen.

These days I feel a literal opening up occurring somewhere inside of me. In my mind? My body? In the space around me? Yes, all of those things. I'm going to attempt to make the best possible use of this expansion.

And swimming in a nice, clean lake...well, that's just an added perk.

See you next week! :)

My last day at the Wild Rumpus.

Today was my last day at the bookstore and, although I was expecting to feel sad and sentimental and the whole nine yards...I, instead, feel a tremendous sense of gratitude, relief, and celebration.

Vinny came home with flowers and then took me out to this restaurant for dinner where I generally reveled over my new found freedom and feelings of possibility.

Today I am celebrating the room I've made for art making and the step I've taken towards mySelf.

Hopefully I can write more about this tomorrow, but the Kama Sutra Mama I had with dinner (a cocktail, that is) seems to have gone to my head.

mmmm....

yummmmm...!

Here's to wild new beginnings!!!

my friend's a whore....

...a blog traffic whore, that is.

Check her out here. She's having a contest, but be forewarned: there is no better chicken name. :)-

Obsession?

Ok, I admit it. I'm obsessed with painting the cup shape form. I love the way it curves and catches light. I love the way I am, each time, inspired by whatever cup I happen to be drinking from. When I started this painting-a-day project, I that thought for sure I would be working alla prima, but it turns out that I am having much more fun working on 2 or 3 or even 4 paintings at a time. While one painting is drying I'll start working on another. If I start getting fatigued by the details of one, I'll shift my focus to another and, in this way, my mind stays fresh and engaged for much longer. Actually, it makes it hard to stop! I think V. might even be getting used to going to bed without me.

It amazes me that I am no where near getting tired of this subject matter. Coffee and tea cups are like shoes--they reflect something about the person that drinks from them. Speaking of shoes...hmmm, maybe my next subject?? :)- Oh, I love how one thing leads to the next, leads to the next, leads to the next.

I feel more alive than I have in quite some time.

"Sunny Blue Bird Cup"
6x6 Original Acrylic
on Gallery Stretched Canvas

* * *

"Stanley for Girls"
6x6 Original Acrylic
on Gallery Stretched Canvas

* * *

"Grunge Mug"
6x6 Original Acrylic
on Gallery Stretched Canvas

* * *

These paintings, among others, are for sale in my Etsy store at Patch of Sky. And there are more in my studio waiting to be photographed--they're coming soon! :)

random and overdue thoughts to dear fiends,

I've been trying to write a post about the lists and journaling I've been doing for the past couple of weeks. However, I've been so busy actually doing, that I haven't had the time to sit down and write about it here.

Hmmm...where to start? Well, at one point I wrote a post in response to a comment that Melba left. A couple days later I read a post by Jamie about Jack Canfield's "rule of 5."

Shortly after reading Melba's and Jamie's words, I decided to take both their ideas and combine them. Melba's advice to ask the Universe for help really made a difference in that it made it easier for me to get things done in a more positive and holistic way. I felt that Jamie's lists of fives would help me to break down my ambitions into something a little bit more manageable.

I'm on the third week of making these lists and am realizing that it not only works incredibly well, but that it is also a learning process....a learning process in which I am learning about myself, that is. These past couple weeks I've been more productive than I have been in months. I owe a lot of this productivity to these lists. But list-making can become dangerous if not kept in check (for ridiculously overachieving nutcases like myself anyway)--and so even my lists have been evolving in ways to become more balanced. The part that seems to be helping me out the most is the self-understanding I'm arriving at that I am doing my best and the rest, well, I am handing it over to the universe.

But wait....there are so many other things I want to talk about too. This must be why it's taken me so long to write this post--my thoughts are starting to bottleneck with the restriction of language. Perhaps it's impossible for me to be able to tell you everything. But I want to try anyway, because these things have been so incredibly helpful for me. I want to extend these thoughts as far out into the universe as possible so that they might help the next person too.

But already I see that I need to back up even further and that it will be hereby impossible to get all of it into one post.

While on a long over-due vacation earlier in the summer, I read a book called The Witch of Portobello by Paulo Coehlo. It is a fictional biography of a woman, written from "the divergent recollections and reflections of the people who knew--or thought they knew--her best." It is the story of a woman named Athena--a woman who lived from the center of her heart and taught others, through example, how to do the same. The story spoke to me in a powerful way because it reminded me of someone. My former self? An old friend? Well, actually, it was both of those people. But that doesn't matter so much as the fact that reading this book reawakened something in me that had grown sleepy and sadly complacent.

Next I read Dog Years by Mark Doty and that book reawakened an inner poetry that had also grown sleepy. It was a book about loss, but more importantly, it was a book about life and love and hope.

These days I'm reading a combination of books, but the one I'm most excited about is Ask and It Is Given by Esther and Jerry Hicks. I came to this book through Melba's reviews and, I'll admit, the first time I picked it up I decided to pass on it because it looked a bit too self-helpy and hokey for my taste. But I kept thinking about it--I mean, it just wouldn't leave my mind. Thoughts about the book just wouldn't leave me alone. I'll tell you, I'm glad that Melba introduced it to me and that Mardougrrl pushed me closer to buying the book, and that the book itself worked its way deep enough into my head to get me, in the end, to bring home a copy of my own.

Also, I've started a vision board. What I mean by that, if you're not familiar with the term, is that I went to Target, bought a cheap (but attractive) corkboard, and have started filling it with images of what I desire my life to look like. I expected it to fill it with all sorts of different things, but there seems to be only two topics I'm interested in right now: 1) Painting and 2) Houses. The corkboard is now filling up with postcards announcing canvas sales (because they have such great photos of studios on them) and an art school (dreaming of continuing ed. classes), homes, and peaceful hangouts. The board also includes words like "rooted" and "believe."

I decided a few weeks ago that it was imperative that I find a "real" job so that we can afford a house. However, at about the same time, I also started doing a painting a day. Don't ask me what possessed me to do the painting-a-day, but I surprised myself and started anyway. And now I'm on my third week and have already sold several of those paintings. I started to feel doubtful about the whole thing and then I sold two more.

My journals from this past year are filled with intentions. And each time I state my intentions, it always seems to include the notion that I want to earn an income (enough to support our desire to own a house) through creative pursuits. Selling my paintings on a regular basis? It seems too good to be true...but is it starting to happen? *a smile creeps across my face at the mere thought of it.*

Last week I decided to take the leap of faith and not only purchase a case of canvases, but to quit my job at the bookstore. Did I really do that? I mean, the job part? Yes, I did. My last day is on Thursday and, although I'll miss it there a lot, I feel downright wonderful about finally acting on something that I've known I needed to do for a long time. The best part? I feel like I have just taken a major step in creating space for whatever it is that's about to happen next.

Today, V. took another small leap of faith and bought me a pen tablet. I've been wanting one for web design for some time now (and, omg, they are so cool!!). It's money that we certainly could have used for something else, but having recently started our own web design business (sidenote: our web site is still in progress), there have already been plenty of times that it would have come in useful. Anyway, we were sitting at the kitchen table about to open the box up--feeling a mixture of excitement and guilt and hopefulness--when we took a quick break to crack open a shared fortune cookie (the restaurant only gave us one and so we decided we'd share the fortune) and the fortune read:

"You are headed in the right direction. Trust your instincts."

Of course, all of this is just the tip of the iceberg; I'm finding it impossible to report to you the entire series of thoughts and events that have led me to these words. Last week, from Ask and It Is Given, I underlined:

"You ask through your attention, through your wanting, through your desire--that is the asking (whether you desire it to happen, or if you desire it not to happen, you are asking...). You do not have to use your words. You just have to feel it in your being: I desire this. I adore this. I appreciate this, and so on. That desire is the beginning of all action."

And so I've started to take action in the best way I know possible: by doing my best to follow my heart, by showing up in my studio every day, by keeping my heart open to the possibilities, by breathing deeply, by making the effort to maintain confidence in myself, by putting myself out into the world in a way that moves me closer to the things I desire.

When I am doing the things I love, I can feel myself literally shine and I feel the genuineness in the way people respond to this feeling of well being. After all, aren't we all attracted to people who are in a balanced, healthy state of mind?

I wish I had the words to write about these thoughts more clearly--but, right now, it seems that I'm simply busy living the change that is taking place inside of me. This isn't anything that has happened over night. It has been actively building upon itself ever since I moved to the city a year ago. It has been building and there is no end to the journey, no final goal or destination--rather, it is a process towards..........Me.

And, you know... I just want to say thank you to those of you who inspire me in more ways than you could possibly realize. You change my world for the better every day. ;)

With love,
Jessie

Etsy Shop Now Open!!

GRAND OPENING!!!

Hello everyone!! I am excited to announce that my new Etsy shop, Patch Of Sky, is now OPEN! I hope you'll stop by and check it out. I'll be posting new items on a regular basis so, please, come back again and again and again!

My latest obsessions have been coffee cups, skyscapes, and the odd beauties that I unexpectedly stumble upon in my daily experiences of the world. These days, I'm feeling like I could paint forever.

I chose the name "Patch Of Sky" for my etsy because a couple of years ago, during a particularly difficult time in my life, I started looking towards the sky for healing and inspiration. I would always try to memorize its details--but, of course, it was impossible. The sky is an ever-changing thing. Perhaps this is part of its beauty. The sky contains space. It contains breath. It contains peace. Looking upward is a habit that stuck with me. To me, painting is another form of sky-gazing--and it causes me to fall in love with this world of color over and over and over. Color is endless.

I hope you enjoy what you see and that
you'll stop by to visit often! :)

You can find my shop at:
www.patchofsky.etsy.com

Lots of love,
Jessie

Two totally different topics...

ACTION SHOTS!

It's been raining for 3 days straight. The four-leggeds are getting restless.

Rain and dogs...oh, what a muddy mixture!

My wolfie, Anu, and little Louis are quite the natural pair.
Caution: serious action shots ahead!

Oooh, look at my *ahem* beautiful wolfie...fangs and all!

"Wait a minute...I need a rest."

"ok...GO!"

OOOh!

Peacefully zonkered once again.
* * * * * * *

And on a completely different note...

I spent the afternoon at a salon getting my hair and eyebrows tended to.
Check it out! I'm a new person!!!

BEFORE

AFTER

***

I'm naturally blond and have had the
horrible-growing-my-hair-out-disaster look
for waaay too long. This is so hard to get used to, but I am soooo liking the change! :) And to prove it, here's another "before" and "after." ha! Is that really me?

BEFORE

AFTER

I've always wanted a bob cut and dark hair; I've even considered treating myself to an oh-so-cool wig. Incognito. Hmmm...maybe I'll change my name too. Something dark and sexy like Véronique or Athena or Indigo or.... any suggestions? ;)

a painting a day: week 1

Ok...here's a long overdo preview of the paintings I've been working on this past week. The quality of these photos lack severely, but once I get some better photos taken they'll be added to my new Etsy shop. A link will be posted soon! :) These days I am compulsively attracted to the beauty in everyday objects (hence, the subject matter of my recent paintings). My world has been transformed. Nothing is safe from examination. Everything is to be appreciated. The simpler the object, the better. I am in search of everything that is normally overlooked. Good god, there'll be no end!

"Urban Nature"
6"x6"
Acrylic on Canvas

"Corporate Junkie"
6"x6"
Acrylic on Canvas

"Drink Me"
6"x6"
Acrylic on Canvas

"Untitled...but Espresso Tastes Best In This One"
6"x6"
Acrylic on Canvas

"Restaurant Mug"
6"x6"
Acrylic on Canvas

"Firefly"
6"x12"
Acrylic on Canvas

"Sacred Morning"
6"x6"
Acrylic on Canvas

sleeping dog love medicine.

I'm happy to report that by some strange twist of luck I didn't have to be to work until noon. What did I do with all my extra time? I SLEPT. And slept. And slept. Louis, the pup, must have been tired too, because he was zonkered out next to me the whole morning (although this photo is of him zonkered out on the floor next to me right now as I type this). Louis has grown a lot these days. He's 5 months old and a solid 50-60 pounds--lanky legs and all. I swear, he grows more every day. Anyway, we've worked out a system of sleeping together that results in an interesting tangle of legs. I especially love it when his leg is thrown up into the air over mine, blissfully unaware of everything except absolute comfort. He's such a snuggler, I can't help but be completely in love with him--even if he does take up more room on the couch than me.

color theory:

I've started working on my fifth painting in four days and, I must say, it feels incredible. I feel like a part of me has returned to myself. I know I've mentioned this before, but this past year I haven't really "allowed" myself to get too far involved with painting for fear that I wouldn't accomplish anything else. Don't get me wrong, I've done plenty of artwork, but always for someone else (for work or commission). Luckily, I came to my senses and (finally) said screw it to my self-imposed ban on painting.

My newly established rebellion includes working on little 6"x6" canvases. They're manageable. I can complete a painting in an hour or two, the only problem being that I don't want to stop! I take the dogs for a walk or drive to the store or walk across the kitchen and am overcome with "oh! I could paint that! and that! and that!..." I love it. I love it when I am able to fall far enough into the creative chasms of my mind, whether it be through writing or painting, that absolutely everything and anything becomes potential material. I especially love it when , even when I close my eyes, all I see is a shifting world of color. In this way, I think my brain has a tendency to get saturated. My brain is starting to feel absolutely soppy with color. Feels good.

In other news, I'm quite positive that I'm going to die from pneumonia or whatever it is that seems to have taken over my body. Today I had a coughing fit so severe that I was sure my eyeballs might pop out or that I'd crack a rib. Luckily, neither happened. But, honestly, somethings gotta give. I've been under a lot of pressure lately to accomplish a whole lot all at once. I would love to visit a witch doctor or shaman or saddhu or someone wise who might tell me exactly what is wrong and why. My body has made every noble attempt possible to let me know that what I need most is SLEEP in order to get better. And what have I done? Well, I've ignored myself. I'm feeling a bit battered and bruised by life--well, my lungs do anyway. How is it that I always seem to get in the way of myself?

Anyway, getting back into painting is a good start. It is reminding me how to be a little bit kinder to myself. It smooths out the bumps and helps clarify my daily list of priorities. Maybe tonight sleep will be at the top of that list.

ps.
I'll post photos later in the week. ;)

a commitment.

I'm waiting for the coffee to finish brewing. I have 12 minutes before I have to start getting ready for work.

Yesterday I came home from work and tore apart the house--well, half of it, that is. I needed a fresh start and took the brunt of my frustrations out on the living room and dining room. I completely emptied both rooms--completely! Then thoroughly cleaned and rearranged. The space feels so much more open and refreshing. I do this every once in awhile, not so much to clean the house, but to declutter my mind. Although, I admit, it ends up serving a duel purpose.

So anyway...on to the next chapter of my life.

I've, just now, decided to commit myself to doing a painting a day (starting today!) and I wanted to write it down here for public viewing so that I don't try to waffle out of it. So here it is:

I, Jessie, commit to doing a painting a day for the next 30 days. No excuses allowed. I am hereby giving myself at least one hour a day to make art. No excuses--none, zip, zero allowed. Amen.

try this:

The other day I made a ridiculously long list of things that I would like to do. Then Melba left a comment saying:

"In Ask and It is Given there is this great exercise.
You take a piece of paper
On one side of the paper you write
My to do list:
and write down everything you will do that day.
Not a crazy long list. Just what you will really do.
On the other side of the list you write
What the Universe will do:
and you write down all the stuff you want the universe to take care of for you."

So I tried it out and guess what...

IT WORKED! :)

I will: work for one hour on my thesis.
The Universe will: help me to finish this one essay more quickly than I anticipate.

I will: spend one hour researching and making notes for C.'s website.
The Universe will: help me to make good use of that information so that I can get the gears in motion.

I will: work for two hours on painting pieces for my Etsy.
The Universe will: provide good music, good coffee, and ample amounts of success.

thoughts on a thursday morning in august.

Is it just me, or does Minneapolis seem tired? Or maybe exhausted is a better word. Yesterday morning people moved with looks of concern on their faces. Every conversation began with things like: "Oh, it's good to see you, you're ok." "Is everyone you know ok?" "Are your people...? (and finishing the question with a simple hand gesture or look meaning: "Do you know anyone that was on the bridge?)"

Yes, Minneapolis is exhausted. Life is returning to normal but I think it is safe to say that this really shook people up. Mostly, I think, because everyone knows someone that might have been on the bridge. My sister's co-worker was in the water. My brother-in-law goes to church with someone whose sister is missing. In this way, the city becomes much smaller. It becomes more apparent just how connected we are--even if by thin threads of acquaintances.

Anyway, it is two days later. It is morning. I am sitting outside once again at my old wooden table and, in the direction of 35W I hear helicopters. The sound paired with a silent interstate is unnerving. Sirens, even more so. This week has brought with it a lot of emotional weight. It has also brought out a sense of caring and connectedness.

I have more that I want to write...but, for now it is time to go to work. We take a deep breath and life goes on. My thoughts go out to those who have been most affected by a moment so unexpected.

Bridge collapse in Minneapolis.

The only sounds I hear are sirens and helicopters and small amounts of thunder. My stomach hurts and I am afraid for the people that were on or near the bridge. I've talked to my sister, brother, and husband. They are safe and, for that, I release a huge breath of relief.

Life is so fucking fragile. I wish that it didn't take things like this to remind us of that. I wish there was something I could do to help.