calling Santa…

Forget the letter. The kiddo’s been periodically speed dialing the man in red on a little cellphone made out of a slab of rock she discovered in the yard. She’s not making any requests, but is most concerned about the health of his reindeer.


If I were a cat, I’d want to call this lady my owner. Read the description.


As I was perusing a monograph on him yesterday, I realized that Cy Twombly is the only artist whose work makes me  cry. Though Robert Frank’s later work comes close. Forget the scoffers, and the legitimacy of craft or not, it’s all about reaction for me. The French lady in this article would probably agree.


I walked in on the kiddo yesterday, who was gently putting my ancient Mrs. Beasley doll through yoga poses. I’m sure by now she could use it.


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