January. My friends Cheryl (L) and Erica during the PRIDE Film Festival in Bloomington.
February. I didn't take this photo, but I used it to accompany an experience I had at a local grocery. The trainee cashier couldn't make change from $27 for a $26.86 purchase. She also forgot to add in tax, so we were trading cash back and forth as we figured out who was owed what. She pulled out a calculator to do the math and the lady training her said, "She's not used to tax. She lived in a state where they don't charge tax." I very nearly said, "But did they have math?"
March. The image that accompanied the first blog post I had published with HuffPo, which was pretty quickly followed by two more posts.
April. The bracelets that got slapped on my wrist when I went to the hospital after a bad fall. The yellow bracelet indicated that I was a fall risk. I should honestly still be wearing that one, given my tendency to walk into things and trip over my big hippo feet. It all seemed much more serious than it really was. I wrote about the ultrasound experience, somewhat depressingly, here.
May(-ish). Cover illustration I drew for my fourth chapbook, pulse, and its eponymous spoken word piece about a couple maintaining a long-distance relationship. I co-wrote the piece with my friend Gabe. With whom I maintain only a long-distance friendship.
June. A before and after shot of a drawing I did the night I discovered I still had chalk of color among my art supplies. It's been an artsy year and I've really enjoyed it.
July. The Camry my dad bought new in 1992 (and gave to me in 2005) continues to chug along. Go, baby car, go!
August. Snuggling with my friend's dog, Gracie, when I was supposed to be working. But... I mean... COME. ON.
September. A little table art at Perk, a new-to-me coffeehouse in Broad Ripple I went to with my friend Sara. #tinyeasels
October. My little wimmins, a series of drawings I started promoting a couple months ago. Making their way to cards and prints soon! Pictured above: The artist, the scientist, the aerobics instructor, the dancer.
November. Beginning my 41st year. Still so very happy to be past my 30s. Not ready, however, to be labeled middle-aged, told I'm halfway to 80 (82 now), or that I'm in my 40s quite yet, thankyouverymuch. I'm 41. Let's save "in my 40s" for 44.
Today. One hell of a good snack. Thanks, Georgetown Market!