Oakland Lake Merritt at Sunrise

Away From Here

            Janice stood in the aisle, sandwiched between the baked beans and the disposable diapers.

            There were fourteen brands of diapers. Five of the brands had blue packaging. Three had yellow, four were white, and two were green—Janice had counted. Her eyes glazed over the glossy plastic wrapping. Some diapers claimed to be super absorbent, others to be leak-free or pleasantly-scented or Velcro and many were covered with delicate pastel pictures of puppies or bunnies. But Janice couldn’t help but cringe because she knew that none of these things helped mask the smell of shit.

            Out in the parking lot two of Janice’s three children, aged five and seven, sat in the back seat of her wood-paneled and rusting station wagon—the windows rolled down, providing slight relief from the sweltering July heat—playing handheld videogames and sticking globs of chewed gun to the handles of the doors. They hated running errands with their mom, and reminded her of this often.

            Janice’s third child was just two months old and was the only planned pregnancy. She slept quietly in a sling wrapped around Janice’s front, eliciting muffled coos and gurgles every so often.

            Janice shuffled down the aisle, finally picking up two of the packages. The bundles of diapers felt slick and foreign in her hands. Her eyes darted from one to the other, assessing the bargain, the deal, which one would ultimately make her life more pleasant.

            While inhaling the sickly smell of digested breast milk would she rather look at fuzzy teddy bears or anthropomorphic automobiles? Was leak-free better than super absorbent? Recycled better than bleached? Did it really matter how form-fitting they were, or how bold the font was on the packaging, how calm the mother portrayed next to the label looked, how happy the baby seemed? Was it really worth it to spend sixty-four cents more on a pleasant scent?

            Janice’s mind fast forwarded one—five—twenty years down the road. She thought about the dozens of teeth she’d have to collect from under pillows. How many Band-Aids she’d apply to scraped knees. She thought about the cumulative twelve years of high school and three college educations she’d have to scrape together.

            The baby strapped to Janice’s chest cooed and folded its tiny fingers into a ball. Her eye’s moved behind their lids and she gave off the faint smell of lavender shampoo.

            Janice looked down at her daughter and kissed her gently on the top of the head. She then replaced the two packages of diapers, aligning them neatly on the shelf.

            As she walked towards the front of the store Janice noticed the world go fuzzy, all the lines became blurred, the colors melted into one another.

            She walked through the big glass doors, which slid open easily.

            A man stood on the walkway outside the entrance to the store, collecting change and loose bills for an animal shelter.

            “G’morning,” he said as Janice blinked in the bright sunlight.

            She looked at him. He had a big smile and his dark hands looked soft and well-manicured.

            Slowly, deliberately, Janice unfastened the straps of the sling.

            “You,” she hesitated, “you want to hold her?” She asked, looking into the man’s eyes.

            “Sure, if you’d like,” the man replied.

            She handed her daughter over to the man, carefully, noticing the soft texture of the sling as it slid from her hands. The man held Janice’s daughter close, rocking her gently from side to side. He hummed.

            Janice turned from the man, put her hands in her pockets, and began walking away, slowly at first, then picking up speed.

            “Hey,” called the man, “your baby—“ but Janice didn’t—couldn’t—hear his calls. She wasn’t thinking, not about her two kids in the car or the daughter resting in a stranger’s arms, or the husband busy at work. The only image in her mind was the bus stop at the corner of the street and the unknown destination of the bus.

Stairs

Jack and Spike just hanging out on the stairs

"Where the Heck do they Get All This Stuff?"

When I was 16 my dad and I were in Milwaukee Wisconsin for Gencon, a gigantic gaming convention that has since moved to Indianapolis. While we were halfway across the country we decided to take mini road trip.

The air outside was over 100 degrees fahrenheit, and to this California Bay Area girl it was not exactly a "nice" summer day. With the humidity it felt like I was breathing syrup.

The first stop was a cheese factory north of Milwaukee. While driving on the highway we came across this billboard that read "Where the Heck do they Get All This Stuff?" There was a big moose on the billboard, and we decided what the Heck? Further up the highway we came across the fiberglass-animal heaven. Walking in you passed a 6 foot tall Pink Panther, standing next to a Cosmopolitan car and a giant triceratops. Zebras, Giraffes, King Kong, and a monstrous rooster all called this place home.

Unfortunately I don't remember what this place was called. If you have any idea, please leave a comment!

Here is a picture from this bizzare place, it's me, with a giant fiberglass mushroom. Enjoy!

Etsy For Animals!

Hello all! I am a member of the Etsy team Artists Helping Animals (EFA), and I donate 10% of all proceeds go to Norsled, a great northern-breed dog rescue.

Jack and Spike give a shout out to Norsled, for helping them in their time of need!

FloppyDog McGee

Spike had a long day of chewing bones and playing his Horatio, his great Dane friend.

Fun with Resin

Here are some of the projects I have done with Resin. Check out my Etsy shop if you would like to see some of my items that are for sale.