I just finished a children’s book. I haven’t written one in a while but when you watch your 14 month old granddaughter for a weekend, you get inspired (AND TIRED!)
Here are a couple of pages:
Now, to spoil the ending. 🙂
Oh, and I made this using Mixbook. Their tools are easy and fun to use.
You kicked ass as James Bond. Now, it’s time to rest.
Roger Moore died today. He was 89.
As of yesterday, I’m a grandmother again! So much joy and love in this world!
by CD-W
A new follower posted this and I LOVE it!!
In her series 100 Days of Tiny Things, artist Desirée De León challenges her imagination by creating a hundred ink drawings with small everyday objects.
Currently a neuroscience student in Atlanta, the artist says she is continually “inspired by the inspired by the complexities of the brain and the possibilities of a blank canvas.”
Her works reflect this passion, with items like pieces of fruit and flower petals turned into completely something else. For instance, the pointy end of a crayon becomes a garden gnome’s hat, while blue petals are turned into Marge Simpson’s hair.
h/t: Lost At E Minor
by CD-W
Definition:
noun
a journey through a Maze of obstacles; a state of jumping over hurdles to protect one’s child; a wonderful and amazing adventure!
CD-W
Originally posted on Filosofa's Word:
One day when my son and daughter, somewhere around 5-6 years of age, were out playing with friends, my son Michael came flying into the house ahead of the pack, pointing behind himself and…
In the glow of the kitchen lantern, I spotted the lone tear in Reba’s eye. “So, what’s now?” she asked.
“It’s only Temporary, Rebie. She’ll be back before we know it. I just hope the plan works. We’ll find out in the morning.”
“Fannie, notice how this catawampus started when the Wild Bunch come here?”
“How do you see that?”
Reba folded her hand. “Etta leaving with Sundance. That’s when Sadie’s trigger got pulled. Pushed her over that ledge.”
I shook my head. “It was before that.”
She glanced up at the ceiling. “Yes’m, suppose so. Plopped out in a cabbage patch with nobody around to comfort her ’cept for devil mother.”
“Rebie, we’ve all had our sorrows. Some just can’t seem to recover from them.”
“You dids, though. Came outta that orphanage with a straight spine.”
“It didn’t feel so straight at the time.”
“Mmm. Never does.”
Excerpt from:
Carolyn Dennis-Willingham 