yes, kids. i’m turning thirty-six this saturday. it’s true.
i am having an existential issue (as we all do with birthdays it seems) -mine are regarding the artist self that doesn’t have enough space in my life. i drool over pages like ali’s and danny’s and keri’s and countless others that i sneak glances at on work breaks.
and then i sigh and get back to logistical arrangements and promoting the amazing things my noprof does and it’s good, don’t get me wrong it’s good. but i’m not going to lie when i tell you that i take a necessary small comfort in the fact that my office drawer is stocked with multiple colors of sharpies and i find ways to sneak creativity into my office tasks.
oh by the way, it’s my birthday on saturday. did i mention that? gifts are, really, the best way to tell me you love me. or, i mean, simple living! simple living! i don’t need Things! your Love is enough! (if i put in enough exclamation points in there it’ll be true, right? right?)
you know what i would love? a date with you to haul out our crafty things and make stuff together. at your house, where it’s not a construction zone, please.