Colored ink

I write every day, both in my journal and here and other places. Ok, the other places are not every day.

I love colored ink. My mother did too. My sister and I were raised “devout atheist”. We did not go to church and my parents claimed to be atheist, but my mother loved holidays and decorated. Christmas, Easter, and we did the elaborate eggs with layers of color then wax then a second color then more wax. My parents also held music parties for folk songs. They sang in big choruses too, so my bible education was all masses and the Messiah. My mother set up a creche at Christmas and hung gilded pears in her avocado tree along with a partridge. She scorned “modern” Christmas carols so we just learned the old traditional ones.

My mother was an artist. She did art every single day. She kept a much more erratic journal than me, but kept it for years. My sister and I had art supplies of all sorts and art lessons whether we wanted or not. I love color. I use my InkJoy pens and write every day. I switch colors each day. Sometimes I have stickers or stamps or drawings or doodles. Each journal is a different form. I have lots of fun with them.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: ink.

Traffic in Port Townsend

The photograph is taken by Rowan DeLuna and used with her permission. Thank you Rowan!

My son’s response: Very responsible to use the crosswalks.

Our local deer use the crosswalks often. I have seen does teaching fawns at corners. So are the deer teaching the otters too?

Heaven and hell

Hell is other people. Heaven too.
How much do you adjust for this person?
The one who is only available when I am damaged
a foul weather friend, unexpected,
busy with all the damaged around,
never time to play. This one hides much
and slips into denial like a familiar cloak.
I am sad. That one talks about others, ah, gossip
I hate it. This one has a blind spot I could
drive a truck through. I wonder why? I am curious.
I read that women are still expected to be responsible
for the house. They are praised or blamed if the home
appears perfect or a mess. I am clearing my main floor
to resemble this idea of what a house should look like
but reading that I wonder. Is it worth it? My decor
is packrat cat lady, though only two cats. No self respecting
burgler would come in as they would trip and fall,
over cats or stuff. Stuff on the stairs: I don’t care
and know that at 65 I will be counseled in my “free”
medicare wellness visit, that I’ve paid for through
all my working years, to make sure my house is uncluttered
reducing fall risk. Hell is other people and heaven too.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: hell.