Hello current followers and new people who have or will be stumbling across my blog,
Just wanted to let you know that my posting is currently on hiatus, but I intend to return!
When I started this blog, I had not only lots of ideas, but the time to bring them to life. But lately, that time has been otherwise allocated. I decided to go back to school for a second Bachelors (Computer Science this time) and I’m still working a full time job. Which means: no time for comic drawing or blog posts.
I’m stashing away ideas for when time returns though. Hopefully I can throw up some short one-panel doodle comics from time to time, but otherwise, I plan to return post graduation (Current ETA August 2018).
In the meantime, if you were here for the cats, they have an Instagram account now: Monstrous Felines
I find it’s a much more manageable format for my many cat pictures and videos than WordPress or YouTube ever were, so cat-related content will probably be mostly there going forward.
Thank you to everyone whose likes, follows, and comments have brightened my day and made content creation fun! I look forward to returning.
We have a new feline monster in our midst. He has been named Caliban and he may or may-not be staying long term (depends if you’re asking me or my husband…). This is the story of how he came to us. Or, if you just want photos and videos of a cute kitten, scroll on down.
* * *
During the New Year’s long-weekend, another resident in our apartment complex – I’ll call her Jane – heard mewing outside her window. Not a a hungry cat meow, but a baby kitten’s mew for its mother. Jane has two cats already – rescues – so she grabbed some of her wet cat food, and went outside to see if she could lure the kitten inside.
Over the next few days, the food disappeared and she successfully saw the kitten a few times – it was small and all black – but it wouldn’t let her get anywhere near it. She tried calling shelters, but everyone she reached out to was closed for the holidays. She heard the kitten in what she thought was her neighbor’s car engine, but couldn’t figure out how to lure it out.
Nate works at the apartment leasing office. When he was working on Tuesday, the maintenance and ground crew said they kept hearing a kitten out in the parking lot. They saw a flash of little black fur once, but they hadn’t been able to figure out where it went. It was a horrible day for a missing kitten: cold and rainy. When they stopped hearing the kittens mewing anymore, they worried it might have crawled away somewhere and died.
That evening, I got home from work ahead of Nate and start to preparing a nicer meal since it was technically our anniversary (we went out to dinner and a movie the night before though since we both had to work on the 3rd). I noticed that Nate was running late. Seeing as his commute is walking the length of the parking lot, this was odd. I checked my phone and saw a text from him that he was waiting with his coworker for her ride to pick her up since her ride is running late.
Then a few minutes later, I get a phone call. While they were waiting, they’d heard the kitten again. They thought it was in the car right in front of the office and Nate wanted me to bring some cat food to them to lure it out.
So I grabbed a jacket, turned off the burners on the stove, and poured a bowl of dry cat food (much to the annoyance of our feline duo who wanted to know why I wasn’t giving the food to them) and headed out to meet them.
We didn’t find the kitten that night though. Nate looked up the parking registration on the vehicle and figured out it was Jane’s. We called her and she came right out, filling us in on the whole ordeal of her weekend trying to capture the little guy. She opened up the hood of her own car, and we search and searched to no avail. We started up the engine, moved the car forward and backward. Nothing came running out and the mewing had stopped.
We figured it must have high-tailed it out of there at some point when we weren’t looking. Hopefully it would turn up again. A crowd was gathering and it was getting pretty dark, so our chances of success seemed few. Even if it was in there, it was probably going to hunker down and not move after all the commotion. We called it a night, I reheated dinner, and Nate and I discussed if we’d take in said kitten if they found it, or pass it off to a shelter.
Next day, Nate had a day off from work because of a class he was taking in the evening. Usually he texts me throughout the day when he’s home, so I was a bit surprised by his silence. Then, I got this:
This was followed by a phone call and I was brought up to date on the ordeal of this little kitten.
Jane had gone off to a dentist appointment that day – an appointment a good 30 minute drive away. To clarify for those familiar with the DC Metro area, it was a 30 minute ride on the Capital Beltway, or as I like to call Interstate 495: The Circle of Death. I had to commute on it for a year to and from work and there’s just something wrong about a commute running anywhere from 20 minutes to an hour and a half based on traffic and whether a semi tipped that day or not. I like to call 495’s on-ramps bumper-car lanes.
Jane had heard the kitten again, she was almost certain. And she was, understandably, freaked out. She called the office, trying to get a hold of Nate. His coworker called Nate, Nate called Jane, etc. Nate decided to drive out and try to help. There was a chance the kitten had already crawled out and run for it, or might do so by time Nate got there and Jane had finished with her dentist, but he’d rather know he’d done what he could to help the poor thing. He helped find a mechanic nearby and they explained what they needed him to check.
“Haven’t dealt with that one before,” was the mechanics comment as he put the car on a lift so he could get underneath it. He pulled back the plastic that covered the engine from below and promptly exclaimed “There’s a cat in here!”
The kitten was – not surprisingly – terrified. It frantically started crawling up further into the engine, but the mechanic managed to grab and pull it out. The kitten thanked him by biting him. Jane grabbed the kitten by the scruff. But kittens are kind of like octopuses; they can contort into unimaginable shapes. The kitten turned its head and promptly locked its little teeth onto Jane and it took Nate prying open its jaws to release her hand.
Thankfully, Jane had already gone to pick up a carrier from the nearby Walmart and they quickly put the scared guy into it. After a bit of back and forth trying to decide its fate, Nate volunteered to take it until we placed it in a permanent home and called to check that it’d work for me. I agreed, as long as we kept it isolated from ours until we could get the kitten checked out. The last thing I wanted was our cats catching something from it.
Nate made an appointment with our veterinarian for that afternoon, and I came home early from work. The kitten hissed whenever it felt cornered, but there was no more biting. Once picked up, it would purr and purr and start snuffling around in our clothes like it wanted to nurse. It ate and drank some, but mostly prefer to cower in the back of the cat carrier or mew whenever it heard our cats meowing at the door.
Thus far, our other two cats were going nuts about us hiding in the bathroom (where we’d isolated the kitten) and because we were not letting them get closer to the ball of fluff they saw through door cracks or in a closed carrier. Fafnir wanted to befriend it. Grendel was hissing and growling murder. She is the one you hear in the video above – she’s mewing to see us, but if we opened the door and let her see the kitten, it was all hissing.
Nate left for his evening class and I prepared for the vet. As soon as I sat down to tie my shoes, Grendel promptly claimed my lap. And Grendel doesn’t even like sitting in laps.
I dislodge my insecure feline, got the cat carrier, and took the kitten to the vet. Unlike both our cats, it didn’t make a peep the whole drive there.
They confirmed the kitten was uninjured by his car ride. It was also male and somewhere between 6 and 11 weeks old, and he weighed just under 2 lbs. Before proceeding with vaccinations and de-worming, they ran a feline leukemia test on him. The vet was optimistic about the likely results – he looked fairly healthy – but the test would take 15 minutes. During the time I waited, he fell asleep in my lap with his chin resting on my arm. I really, really, hoped he was healthy.
The test came back negative! A stool sample proved he had round worms, and thus began his less-enjoyable medical treatments with needles and syringes. We would have to keep the cats isolated for awhile longer – especially not sharing a litter box – to keep them from getting worms too and ideally we wouldn’t let them mix or groom one another for awhile either.
Considering the fact that every time the kitten just saw Fafnir he’d start purring and mewing and wanting to get near him, complete isolation wasn’t going to last too long. We broke down in a few days.
We currently let them chase each other around the apartment when we are home, but isolate them when we are out or when they need to eat (Fafnir would just steal the kitten’s wet food otherwise and I’m fighting to keep my cats at a healthy weight).
We looked for a name that went with a literary stowaway, but ended up going with something that fit our existing monster theme (Grendel & Fafnir). Nate settled on Caliban. I was trying to argue for just calling him Cuteness, since we’re only fostering and shouldn’t get attached. But Nate would prefer to keep him, unless we find someone we personally know who’ll take him in. We’ll address that in a month or so once Caliban has gotten his health in order. Until then – we have three cats.
First night: Still pretty skittish
He’s all black except tufts of white in his ears
Finally saw him eating some moistened dry food! (We didn’t have canned on hand)
Chilling in the carrier
He looks fierce, but he’s just mewing for mom
Meanwhile, Grendel alternates between being clingy…
… or aloof
Fafnir doesn’t mind him at all, though.
And the videos:
Note: He LOVES kneading things, even if it’s just the air while we pet him.
These are not part of a finished comic, but rather a little sampler of the fun I had the other day using my phone’s drawing function when texting my husband.
Background notes: My husband collects and plays Warhammer Age of Sigmar. The little warrior chick I drew was a Sister of Avelorn (I’d bought him a set of them for his birthday) and later on, I also was (attempting) to draw a Sylvaneth Treelord and the Handmaiden of the Everqueen.
* * *
Nate: Rested enough. Heading out to Games Workshop. Hoping to find a battle!
Sarah: Oh, my poor failed pacifist.
Sarah: Having so much fun
…various other texts between us, then Nate not responding…
Sarah: I’m assuming from your silence that you’ve found camaraderie?
Nate: Nope. Not yet.
Nate: Waiting till 1:45 then heading home defeated.
For the longest time I had a bias for reading prose instead of poetry.
Classic or “The Cannon”-accepted poetry was often too abstract, too dense, or too obscure for me to grasp. And I wanted to read, not be continually flitting my eyes between the words and the footnotes.
I preferred plot. I liked characters. I liked sinking my teeth into a novel or a play, immersing myself in another life for a month or maybe just a weekend, but certainly more than the few minutes it seemed to take to read a poem. A few high school poetry projects helped soften me, but I still never picked up a poetry volume unassigned. Epics (Beowulf, The Odyssey, and The Aeneid) bridged the gap some more because they struck me as on the fence between poetry and story. I fiddled with writing my own poems and read those written by my peers. I was, in a sense, coming around to poetry.
Then I was forced to dissect a Shakespearean sonnet ever which direction, backwards, forwards, and inside out for a whole semester in college. We were practicing different literary theories and interpretive lenses for an introduction survey course and while application is a good way to learn such tools, focusing on a single sonnet for that many papers felt like smashing my head into a wall on a regular basis. I’d put it tied with reading Tristram Shandy on my list of “horrible college experiences” (and I’ll bitterly admit that I did learn a few things from both projects).
After all that, I was pretty suspicious and sick of poetry regardless of format. Thankfully, my professors didn’t give up on me – or rather, they weren’t about to tailor their syllabus to my personal tastes. With exposure came interest and a new appetite. I devoured T.S. Eliot, lingered in e e cummings, read and reread William Carlos Williams, and probably annoyed my then-fiance with my reading aloud Gertrude Stein (because honestly, how else do you read her?).
I still tend to prefer a novel to dwell on in my free time, but I think of poetry as a nourishing breakfast before I begin a busy day. I especially lean on it when I’m actively writing my own stories. Reading poetry forces me to look at the world in a different way, to revisit the importance of word choice, order, and structure more intentionally than I do when reading novels. It reminds me how delightful and nuanced this crazy English language can be.
My last college semester, we read T.S. Eliot’s The Four Quartets. I’ve reread it so many times since that I’ve lost count. One passage in particular always drew me in. If I could, I’d just put the full set of four poems on my wall, but alas it would require a fairly large canvas, so I settle for just a part of “East Coker.” (More images of the painting and details on how I made it are in the gallary below.)
If you haven’t read The Four Quartets, please go do so. It’s in the public domain, so you can read it online if you’d like, but I highly advise reading it in print with a pen and your hot beverage of choice. It is amazing.
The painting is hanging in our apartment now, opposite the table where Nate and I tend to sit when writing. It serves as a nice reminder. Maybe the stories I write will never be published, maybe they’ll always fall short of my expectations, maybe no agent or editor will ever see anything in them, or maybe they will, but the books won’t sell or will get bad reviews, be called shoddy rehash of existing tropes. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
Maybe I ought to worry less and focus on the trying, on the writing, on the sitting down with my laptop or notepad and getting the words out. Again and again, and again, trying to recover what has been lost and found and lost before.
Because the only way I can say for certain that my writing will go nowhere is if I give up trying.
First the print-out of the text
Then slowing cutting out each letter (Forgot to photograph before applying paint, woops)
Reinforced the paper with painters tape to make it stiffer
Lots and lots of cutting…
First go application – you can see how smudged parts of it were.
A bit further along
And lastly, after some touch ups. I only wanted to clean up the lettering enough to make it more readable. I didn’t want it to look like those kitschy inspirational posters or plaques so prevalent in home decor now days (and in facebook newsfeeds…); I wanted it to continue to look handmade.
We adopted our kittens in mid-September and within the first 6 months of pet-ownership, we had a lot of vet visits. 11 appointments scattered between 3 different clinics and 1 specialist’s office. Also, 2 quick cat-less visits to pick up more medication. I’d hoped Grendel’s last appointment mid March would have been a wrap up to things, but she’s still on eye drops and they want to see her again 6 months out. Someday we’ll have an un-medicated kitty. Someday.
Here’s the summary of the whole ordeal, for those who are curious and as an explanation for why many of my cat photos and videos feature Grendel with a cone on her head and copious amounts of orange medication bottles in the background.
Nothing like staring down those vet bills these last few months to make me very, very thankful we waited to adopt until we were on better footing. So, I suppose this is a bit of a cautionary tale to others cat-lovers out there debating when to adopt. Probably best to not just calculate for the start-up pet supplies and adoption fees, but also the possible vet visits if things go badly. It’s like having a slush fund for when your car blows a tire, or make that several tires and some speeding tickets in a double-penalty school zone..
When Nate and I decided we were finally in a position to adopt some kittens, we went to the quickest route readily available: the Petsmart near our apartment. We were at the end of “kitten season,” so the cages that weeks earlier had been packed with whole litters of adorableness, now had just some random stragglers. A pair who appeared to be from the same litter (same age) were hiding in the back of their respective cages, sniffling and runny eyed.
To the right of these was a little black bundle of energy mewing furiously and reaching shoulder-deep through the bars of her cage in an attempt to swat at us with her little paws. She even kept her claws sheathed as she tried to pull my hand into the cage. I was smitten. The problem was, we knew she’d need a playmate. The sickly pair didn’t look too promising. So we went with the slightly older and healthier looking male caged below. That is, we picked the thoroughly handsome Fafnir.
Of course, just because our pair looked healthy, didn’t mean they were free of the omni-present Feline Herpesvirus(also called FVR). Most shelter cats have it, but they aren’t always symptomatic. Just takes some stress to weaken their immune system and allow the virus and subsequent bacterial infections to move in and cause respiratory issues (-or so our vet techs have told me. Feel free to update me if I’m misinformed).
Volume 2: Non-Critical Infection & Ear Mites
Thankfully the adoption group stressed over and over in their paperwork that new kittens should be taken to a vet as soon as possible. They offered a discount at their own clinic. We called them that weekend and had something set up a bit over a week out. Meantime, Fafnir degenerated into a full out respiratory infection. Grendel sneezed a bit and had crusty ear discharge (probably ear mites), but seemed mostly okay.
Honestly, I was freaked out about Fafnir during the days leading up to our appointment. He would eat wet food, but wasn’t drinking. He became less and less playful, wheezed when he breathed, and his eyes were continually watery and goopy. Sometimes they sealed shut and I had to wipe them off with a wet cloth to open them again. We let Fafnir sleep in the bedroom with us at night and made him a perch up on a bookshelf during the day where he could get away from Grendel (who was still all energy).
That first vet visit went well though. Lots of complaining in the car ride of course, and Grendel was not a fan of getting her shots, having her temperature taken (what cat is?), and having her ears cleaned. However, since the last vet visit I had gone to was with a semi-feral cat we’d temporarily taken in, the fact that neither of our duo was screaming bloody murder or drawing blood was a good vet-visit in my book.
We were given some antibiotics to help fight Fafnir’s issues and told to preemptively dose Grendel since she was starting to have watery eyes too. They said it was a classic case of a secondary bacteria infection because of the Feline Herpesvirus and they had the cat-equivalent of a really bad cold.
Back home, everyone seemed to be getting better, but then Grendel’s eye started watering strangely and her third lid was red and almost always visible. Anxious, we scheduled another visit visit – this time at a different clinic because the one we’d gone to before didn’t have openings in the near future.
Volume 3: More Drugs
The next vet was rather disapproving of our former, noting that the medication they’d given us was “bad for kittens” because it could hinder growth. She gave us a different antibiotic and an ointment for the swollen eye. It sounded like all we had to do was follow their directions, and we’d be fine. Her cold symptoms went away well enough, but the eyelids remained swollen.
Meanwhile, we moved to a new apartment. We reached the end of the two week period that the vet had prescribed us to treat her without much sign of improvement. She was running around and playing like a normal kitten–nothing like Fafnir’s illness–but her eye was almost closed shut. One evening, she started cleaning it and went into a panic, pawing at it wildly like she was in pain. We set up an appointment with a vet near our new place, fingers crossed they just needed to give us a different medication to clear up the problem.
Volume 4: Start Panicking
Nate texted me at work from the vet where he’d taken Grendel. The vet had tried to pry back to lids to see what condition the eye was in and was worried that it was ruptured. She referred us to a specialist, noting that there was a high probability that Grendel might need the eye (or what was left of it) fully removed.
My office has no good place to take phone calls privately, so I went to my car to talk with Nate on my cell. Not going to lie, I was crying pretty bad. I was scared for Grendel, yes, but there was also the fear of finances and not knowing how best to proceed. My husband and I were recent college graduates still working for close to entry-level pay. I had a bundle of student loans, we were living in an expensive area, and the possible vet bill for a surgery was pretty big. Add to that, it wasn’t a guaranteed fix–we might pay for the surgery, but lose Grendel anyway.
The rescue group we’d gotten them from had a clause that any “unwanted” cats should be returned to them rather than brought to other shelters, so that was my reluctant backup plan if the price tag was more than we could enter into. However, I couldn’t be sure that the rescue group might not decide to put Grendel down themselves–they seemed pretty against kill-shelters in their paperwork, but it’s one thing to advocate to save perfectly healthy cats, quiet another to pour money into a medically-complicated cat.
Still, we didn’t know what the situation was until we’d seen a specialist. I thankfully have a pretty flexible work schedule and was able to take some sick leave to go home early and accompany Nate and Grendel to the vet, desperately hoping the situation would work out for us to have a healthy kitten at the end of it all, even if she was more of a one-eyed Odin than a Grendel.
Volume 5: The Goody Bag
The specialist couldn’t give us too much in the positive or negative. Her eyelid was so swollen the vet couldn’t get much of a look at the eye, but she noted that Grendel was young and she’d known kittens who were able to heal ruptures without needing surgery. Her estimated odds were 50/50 if the eye could heal itself. She gave us a dosage plan and had us schedule an appointment three days out when she could reassess if medication would be enough or if surgery would be necessary.
When we went to the front desk, the vet tech came out with what she jokingly referred to as our “goody bag.” Honestly, that one vet bill is probably the one to which I’ll measure all others now. We had about five different eye drops to give her–some to be given twice, others 4 times a day, and one that needed to be kept refrigerated. We also had an oral antibiotic and an oral pain medication to give her, and she had to wear a cone (Elizabethan collar or e-collar). The vet recommended keeping her in isolation to keep her from injuring the eye further by playing with Fafnir.
That first night was emotional turmoil. It was a downright struggle to pin a kitten who had spent the day carted between home and two different vets, poked, prodded, eye lid pealed back, etc. Add to that a kitten buzzed with pain medication, disoriented by her new collar, and distressed that her playmate wasn’t allowed to be in the room with her. But we made it through and got a thorough crash course at administering eye drops to a cat.
Volume 6: Signs of Improvement
The eye drops had a noticeable effect. While the ointment of the second vet had done little more than make her eyelids slimy looking, the eye drops quickly began reducing swelling. Instead of the eye being tightly shut, we now could see some of the interior lids. Not the eye itself yet, but it was better than nothing.
Our next appointment confirmed that things were looking better. We weren’t in the clear, and we still would be heavily medicating her, but for the subsequent visits, we kept spacing things out further and further. Eventually, the third lid was no longer that big of a problem. It wasn’t as swollen and we could see her actual eye! Mind you, the eye wasn’t in perfect shape; she had severe keratitis (inflammation). This meant the dome of the eye that is clear on a healthy cat’s eye was all white and cloudy in Grendel’s.
They switched our meds from trying to encourage healing the rupture to encourage the inflammation to go down and the cloudiness to dissipate.We were given the go-ahead to remove the collar and were allowed to let the cats mingle again without supervision.
Volume 7: More Ear Mites
Fafnir, meantime, was apparently feeling sorely neglected. So he decided that he wanted to have medical problems, too! We noticed he was scratching at his ears a lot, and a quick swab with a q-tip revealed blackish-brown earwax just like Grendel had when we first got her. Fafnir was also going to town on one ear with his back claws until it was starting to get bloody. We scheduled his appointment with the clinic that had original referred Grendel to the specialist.
While there, Fafnir proved a very friendly kitten who purred when nervous and made it difficult for the vet to listen to his breathing or heartbeat. She finally had to sit him by the sink and run some water to distract him from his purring because even scruff-ing him had no effect.
She gave us some ear-ointment to give twice a day. It did the trick and the next visit found no more infection. I had to smile a bit though when scheduling the follow-up. The receptionist was trying to reassure me that the follow-up wouldn’t be as expensive as this initial visit. Both, however, were significantly cheaper than even Grendel’s cheapest eye appointment. I’ll take ear mite problems over eye problems any day.
Volume 8: Results Pending
I’d expected Grendel’s latest visit to have been her last. It’d been 3 months between appointments and while the keratitis had certainly dissipated some, I hadn’t been noticing much change for awhile. We were down to four drops a day – two in the morning, two in the evening. I figured what remained was primarily scarring from the rupture and would be permanent.
Our vet was pretty sure a strong anti-inflammatory could improve things further, though. So, we’re now up to 6 drops a day (adding in a higher-powered med) which will go down to 2 drops a day as we use the existing medication up. 6 months out, we’ll see where we’re at again. Fingers crossed, we’ll be in the clear at last.
Bonus: Photos Over Time
My photos of Grendel’s eye over time are a bit scattered. Grendel is hard enough to photograph in general (fast moving & solid black), but getting a good shot of her eye can be a challenge. Especially after those early vet visits (where they had to physically push back the inner lid), her default response to anything near her face was to squint her bad eye closed.
“Just the comic images and some mouse over text. None of the clutter.”
I’ve always been the sort who eats up any of the aside and background text posted by the authors, artists, and cartoonists whose work I follow online, but I realize it’s not for everyone.
The Just Comics page will allow for easier browsing if you’re just here for the doodles, and for a more stream-lined archive. It’ll be updated to match new content as I publish it.
I’m working with about a month’s buffer and keeping up a decent pace making new content. Hopefully, declaring that won’t jinx anything because I am tentatively planning to maintain a Monday, Wednesday, Friday posting schedule.
That’s all I’ve got. Thanks for reading/following!
Welcome to my blog! Here’s what you can expect going forward, by category.
If you were to drop by my cubical at work, you’d probably first notice the mass of paper scraps pinned above my computer. A few of them are practical: how to properly set up a vlookup in Excel based on a book’s ISBN, how to format bi-directional links in an epub, the time difference between India and DC, etc. By and large, though, these scraps are doodles.
It’s a coping mechanism mostly. There is something about drawing a freaked out doodle guy that helps make my own sense of panic less stressful and more comical. Plus, looking up from my screen to a wall of doodles makes me smile. Doodles offer more immediate gratification than finished artwork and are more emotive than a plain text message or an emoticon. Why text my husband a : ( when I’m letting him know I’m not feeling well when I can send this instead:
Over time, my doodles became less emotional responses and more complex commentaries. And then something new entered the equation: a Samsung Note smartphone. I’ve always been a little reluctant to post my drawing to the web because they always appeared so unfinished. They were serviceable for a facebook post or to text to friends and family, but never looked “done” enough. I have an old drawing tablet, but its software is no longer compatible with my newer computer. My phone screen is small, but serviceable. The added bonus of going digital: the undo button.
For those of you who are friends with me on facebook, you might see some repeat content on this blog as I clean up and repost my older comics and doodles.
These are my cats. They are asymmetrical and I love them.
Fafnir is a handsome 9 month-old tabby male with a clipped ear:
Grendel is a 7-month-old female black kitten of doom with one scarred eye:
If their names are weirding you out, go read up on some Norse mythology » (Fafnir & Grendel )
I’ve spent a majority of my life wanting a feline companion and now that I’m out of my parent’s house (where only caged animals were allowed), working full time (yay money for cat food!), and in an apartment with reasonable pet rent, I finally have them. So much happiness!
Mind you, no sooner did I bring my kittens home than one developed a respiratory infection, the other almost lost her eye to a similar infection, and they both had their own battle with ear mites. So many vet visits! (Also, I am now an expert at giving cats eye drops.)
I will be posting some of my favorite photos and videos of this deadly duo here from time to time and probably do a small feature on how hilarious Grendel was with a cone on her head. Isn’t she adorable:
I probably won’t “blog” too often. I have a few ideas and thoughts bouncing in my head that I’d like to finalize into something like a personal essay someday, but such ideas don’t come nearly as often as I draw a doodle or see my cats do something cute. Tentative topics include: novel writing, articularing what makes bad fiction so bad, describing that day I spent at a cat adoption event with some crazy cat ladies, and explaining why cooking is good for the soul.
“Arting” is my catch-all term for creative projects ranging from a detailed painting, to sculpture, to cut out paper snowflakes.
I’ve tried and failed several times to create a finished online portolio of my work. Writing about existing work just never held my attention the way actually creating the work does. Rather than repeat my past mistakes, this time around I have no plans to post all of my art here. I’ll just be posting my favorites, and the ones with fun backstories.
For those who find this blog on their own, rather than by knowing me, a little background on me can be found on the About page.
Thanks for reading and I hope I succeed in making you laugh or at least smile in the days to come.