Allison!
Monday, March 21, 2011
Friday, March 18, 2011
scrappin homies...check this out
I've recently been invited to participate in Kelly Purkey's Sketchbook 3 class! Yay!
And she's allotted me one spot in said class to give away to a lucky winner! Yay! Yay!
Here's the deets from the lady in charge:
"Join Kelly Purkey and friends for Sketchbook 3! This is a self-paced four week class filled with fresh sketches, easy instructions, beautiful examples, and lots of fun. From April 4th to April 29th a PDF will be delivered to your inbox every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. By the end of the class, you'll have a complete sketchbook of 12 original sketches, 38 layouts, and an additional 38 sketches based on those creative pages. All of the examples are brand new layouts, exclusive to this class... you won't see them anywhere else. The best part is that you will be receiving an example layout from Kelly for each of the sketches, along with two (or more) example layouts from a very talented contributor. Each PDF for Sketchbook 3 will also include a card designed by the amazing Jennifer McGuire based on the daily sketch.
The class will also include a private message board for questions and sharing ideas on the Studio Calico website. Visit Kelly's blog for more information and to see the full list of contributors."
So, who wants a free spot? Psh. Who wouldn't, right???
Just leave a comment here by Sunday, 3/20, at say...midnight PST, and I'll throw your name in a virtual hat and draw a random winner!
And so's you know, if you've already registered and paid for the class, go ahead and comment, anyway. If your name is drawn, I have it on very good authority that your registration fee will be refunded to you, or if you like, you can gift your free spot to a friend. Your choice.
Win win. :)
i had a dream...
(Anyone else start humming Abba after reading those 4 words?)
(No? Just me?)
(Alrighty, then.)
But really. I had this crazy dream last night. I've been having lots of crazy dreams lately, as a matter of fact. Maybe the recent removal of my uterus gave my brain more room to flex it's nighttime imagination muscle.
The brain most certainly does have a nighttime imagination muscle. I'm a nurse. Well, I used to be. But still. Trust me. I know these things.
So back to my dream. I dreamt that I left the house, intent on adopting a Beagle puppy. Met with some people in a parking lot, where they unloaded a veritable herd of Beagle puppies from the back of their pick-up, from which I was to decide on our family's new best friend.
But they weren't wiggly, itty-bitty-little puppies. They were young Beagles, probably still technically puppies, but not the sweet, calendar-worthy Beagle puppies I had in mind.
Disappointment commenced.
But didn't last for long. Suddenly, I was in a different parking lot, hammering out the details of a different adoption.
I was now adopting a child. A little girl. A little African-American girl. Named Marta.
(In a parking lot. Let's not forget that.)
I was terribly anxious, as I wasn't sure what my husband would think, and how in the world could I afford the $200,000 adoption fee???
In steps my (fictional) sister-in-law.
I do have a sister-in-law in real life. That part's not fictional. And she's fabulous. But that's not who this was. This was somebody I didn't recognize, but I knew her in my dream to be my sister-in-law.
My very wealthy sister-in-law.
Wealthy Sister-In-Law whips out her checkbook, and says, "I know in my heart that this child belongs in our family, and if you are willing to take her in, then I will make that happen." And she writes a $200,000 check and turns it over to the adoption officials.
In the back of a pick up truck. In a parking lot.
(In my dream, these details seem perfectly normal to me. No question.)
(No Beagles hanging around, tho'. That would have tipped it off as weird. For sure.)
Flash forward to a large building, teeming with kids of assorted ages. Steve is with me now, and thankfully hasn't had me committed for agreeing to the adoption of a child without his input and approval. We're here to pick up our new Nelson. Our Marta. Only the child with which we walked out of the building was not the younger-than-Emma child I'd met in the parking lot. Marta was now 15.
(Kids grow up so fast, don't they?)
I remember us walking away with Marta, arm-in-arm on either side of her, and being scared out of my ever-lovin' gourd. Holy Hell, I set out to get a Beagle. And now I've got Child #4. I'm almost 40...what the heck am I doing adopting a child??? Heart palpitations, sweats, the whole glorious bit...
And then my Real Life Basset Hound woke me up with her "I've-really-gotta-pee" whine, and saved me from the looming anxiety attack coming to it's full fruition.
Good ol' Basset. Who needs a Beagle, anyway?
(No? Just me?)
(Alrighty, then.)
But really. I had this crazy dream last night. I've been having lots of crazy dreams lately, as a matter of fact. Maybe the recent removal of my uterus gave my brain more room to flex it's nighttime imagination muscle.
The brain most certainly does have a nighttime imagination muscle. I'm a nurse. Well, I used to be. But still. Trust me. I know these things.
So back to my dream. I dreamt that I left the house, intent on adopting a Beagle puppy. Met with some people in a parking lot, where they unloaded a veritable herd of Beagle puppies from the back of their pick-up, from which I was to decide on our family's new best friend.
But they weren't wiggly, itty-bitty-little puppies. They were young Beagles, probably still technically puppies, but not the sweet, calendar-worthy Beagle puppies I had in mind.
Disappointment commenced.
But didn't last for long. Suddenly, I was in a different parking lot, hammering out the details of a different adoption.
I was now adopting a child. A little girl. A little African-American girl. Named Marta.
(In a parking lot. Let's not forget that.)
I was terribly anxious, as I wasn't sure what my husband would think, and how in the world could I afford the $200,000 adoption fee???
In steps my (fictional) sister-in-law.
I do have a sister-in-law in real life. That part's not fictional. And she's fabulous. But that's not who this was. This was somebody I didn't recognize, but I knew her in my dream to be my sister-in-law.
My very wealthy sister-in-law.
Wealthy Sister-In-Law whips out her checkbook, and says, "I know in my heart that this child belongs in our family, and if you are willing to take her in, then I will make that happen." And she writes a $200,000 check and turns it over to the adoption officials.
In the back of a pick up truck. In a parking lot.
(In my dream, these details seem perfectly normal to me. No question.)
(No Beagles hanging around, tho'. That would have tipped it off as weird. For sure.)
Flash forward to a large building, teeming with kids of assorted ages. Steve is with me now, and thankfully hasn't had me committed for agreeing to the adoption of a child without his input and approval. We're here to pick up our new Nelson. Our Marta. Only the child with which we walked out of the building was not the younger-than-Emma child I'd met in the parking lot. Marta was now 15.
(Kids grow up so fast, don't they?)
I remember us walking away with Marta, arm-in-arm on either side of her, and being scared out of my ever-lovin' gourd. Holy Hell, I set out to get a Beagle. And now I've got Child #4. I'm almost 40...what the heck am I doing adopting a child??? Heart palpitations, sweats, the whole glorious bit...
And then my Real Life Basset Hound woke me up with her "I've-really-gotta-pee" whine, and saved me from the looming anxiety attack coming to it's full fruition.
Good ol' Basset. Who needs a Beagle, anyway?
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