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You know how that moment of insight always comes when you’re in the shower, or driving, or walking, or just doing something not related to what you’re looking for an insight around?
Yeah, that.
Living A Creative Life with Melissa Dinwiddie
Happiness, Self-fulfillment, Creativity, Productivity, Practical Inspiration, Mentoring, Life Design for Creatives and Multi-Passionate People
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Click Here or on Image to Bid or Buy Now (6x6in.)
You know how that moment of insight always comes when you’re in the shower, or driving, or walking, or just doing something not related to what you’re looking for an insight around?
Yeah, that.
Click Here or on Image to Bid or Buy Now (6x6in.)
How many little girls wanted to be mermaids after seeing Disney’s The Little Mermaid? Who wouldn’t, after seeing the magical undersea world Ariel lives in?
In reality, I’m kind of scared of the ocean (perhaps because Jaws came out at a very formative time in my life). I went on a trip to Hawaii in 2003, and got to swim with wild dolphins for several days, plus do a night snorkle with manta rays, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t mildly anxious the whole time.
If the sea were like Ariel’s kingdom, though… And if I could swim like Ariel… Ah, what a lovely dream.
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The fox with the flower reminds me of my sweet MM, who was so nervous on our first date, he could barely speak and sweated right through his shirt.
Have I told you the story of how he courted me for four months, only to be kicked to the curb when someone else swept me off my feet?
And how he got back on my dance card back nine months later, only to be kicked to the curb again when somebody else swept me off my feet?
And how when that guy showed his true colors, kicked me when I was down, and (thankfully) departed from my life, MM swooped back in, healed my broken heart, and finally, after two and a half years, claimed my heart?
I think the fox with the flower has that kind of devotion and persistence. I hope the other fox sees his true colors more quickly than I saw MM’s!
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That feeling when you meet someone totally different from you — much older or younger, different gender, different race, different cultural background — yet you feel instantly in tune with them. That.
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Ah, weekends. Even though I work for myself at home (usually in my pajamas), I still like to make an energetic distinction between weekdays and weekends. One way that comes out is just relaxing my morning routine a bit on Saturday and Sunday morning.
Instead of going through my usual routine, which gets me to work in my studio by 9:00am, sometimes I lounge and read. Sometimes I listen to the radio.
It’s nice to just let myself ramble a bit.
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When my parents go out of town, we dog-sit for their German Shepherd, Chloe. She sheds a lot, and harries our cat, Nika, but she’s the best vacuum ever.
She also makes the most wonderful expressions. There’s her goofy look, her eager-to-play-with-the-cat look, and her concerned look.
My favorite, though, is when she tilts her head to one side, trying to figure out just what in the heck is going on.
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During my divorce in 1999, I moved into a little one-bedroom apartment that was a few blocks away from the Quaker meeting house, where my synagogue held Friday night Shabbat services once a month. For about a year, on that last Friday of the month, I’d invite a few girlfriends over, and we’d eat a simple meal, chat and laugh, before walking the ten minutes to the Quaker meeting house, where I would lead services.
It was a rough year in many ways, but those conversations over Shabbat dinner were points of light. Just thinking about them makes me smile.
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The first performance I can remember was in kindergarten, when the whole class took over the multi-purpose room one afternoon to put on a circus for an audience of parents and older kids.
We rehearsed it for weeks. Deanne was the ringmaster. Andrea, Laura and Mandy were ponies. Brian was an acrobat. Jill a lion-tamer and Scott the lion.
In one of our rehearsals, Carla and I improvised a clown scene in which we kept stealing a lollipop from each other, which Mrs. Chong liked so much that she bought us an enormous lollipop to use in the show. I think the lollipop part was as big as my head.
Some of us played two roles, though, and in addition to being a lollipop-stealing clown, I was one of a rookery of seals (read: maybe three, total). We painted cardboard masks and taped a red balloon to the “nose” — our balancing ball.
We had it easier than real seals, because our ball never fell down. It also wasn’t round, but I guess it was close enough to get the point across.
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Field trips in kindergarten. A gaggle of doddling children with pudgy cheeks, small hands clutching a rope with little loops tied into it. “Hold onto your handle, everyone,” the teacher calls, turning around to make sure nobody has wandered off. “We’re crossing the street now!”
A clever way to keep a class of 4- and 5-year-olds together, but still, that was one brave teacher, if you ask me.
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When I was in fourth grade, the thing I wanted more than anything in the world was a bunny.
We had cats and a dog, and various and sundry goldfish, but I wanted a house rabbit. Preferably a flop-eared rabbit.
Mom and Dad weren’t so keen on the idea. For my ninth birthday, instead of a bunny, I found a cage in the living room with a guinea pig.
I named her Abby. She was a black-and-white checked Abyssinian. She was the best birthday present ever.
I went on to get three more guina pigs over the next several years — a friend for Abby, then after Abby died, a friend for her friend, and so on. I loved those guinea pigs, but I never did get a bunny.
Maybe that’s why they keep showing up in my art. 🙂
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That feeling when you want to talk to somebody new, want to be their friend, but don’t know what to say. So vulnerable — what if they sneer at you? What if they laugh?
Sometimes I feel like some weird alien. Like I’m standing on stage in my underwear and a tentative smile.
What can we do, though, but just try?
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I was lucky enough to get my dad’s eye genes, rather than my mom’s extreme nearsightedness, but unfortunately I didn’t get my dad’s vision longevity. At 78, he only needs glasses to read fine print, but even though I’m decades younger, my far distance vision isn’t as sharp as it used to be, so I recently got an eye exam to get my first pair of prescription glasses.
The optometrist kept dropping lenses in front of my eyes and asking, “Is this clearer?” [snap] “Or this?”
I had the darnedest time telling! Everything looked slightly doubled no matter which lens I was looking through.
Turns out I have an astigmatism. Rather than being spheres, the lenses in my eyes are football-shaped.
It also turns out that although my prescription is very light, I actually need three different lens focal points to get through my day. I’m now the proud owner of several pairs of glasses: progressives, bifocals, computer glasses, and several “cheaters” (as my cousin Lucy calls them) from the drugstore, all for different purposes.
Mom, meanwhile, grew up with the proverbial “Coke bottle glasses,” but had cataract surgery several years back. At certain angles, her pupils reflect an odd light, making her look like a cyborg. But for the first time in her life, her eyesight is practically perfect without glasses or contacts.
She loves to gloat over the rest of us former 20/20 folks that she now has the best vision of the family.
Me, I’m just grateful that prescription glasses exist. And most of all that I can still see color.