The underworld is screaming

The underworld has spoken and is telling me I must communicate.

(It was actually my husband screaming OUCH from under the house, where he is currently fixing leaky pipes. I find pain to be a great inspiration, even when it is experienced second-hand. Perhaps especially then.)

It is the dead of winter in Colorado. We have had very few degrees around here lately, and I, for one, am not impressed. I thought I might relax and pass the cold days with a jigsaw puzzle, and I learned quickly that some people are not meant for jigsaw puzzles. I lost several days, my temper, and the last puzzle piece. It was possibly the first time in my life I've considered uttering the serenity prayer. Thank Zeus that misery is over. All I have to show for my efforts is a garish cardboard mess to throw back into a box behind the Ouija board (which is far more entertaining.) If jigsaw puzzles are how normal people relax, count me out.

Fortunately, my skull concrete molds have now arrived, and I can start planning my catacombs. Much more rewarding.

Now that you're all caught up on the least boring aspects of my life, a bit of news.

I am planning a solo art show in conjuction with a lovely friend of mine whose job it is to make people beautiful, and another friend who can heal you spirit without laying a finger on you. I'm aiming at April, and we will see how close I get. More details to follow.

Until next time, memento mori.