Commission!

Have I mentioned how much I love commissions? Not just because they mean I'm getting paid to do what I love, but because they're like getting assignments. I never thought I'd say I miss getting a lesson plan, but things can get a little stagnant if you're the only one dictating what you do. Maybe it's just me. 

Even if I'm working with the same medium a lot, it's nice to get photos of a subject that I haven't spent much time looking at before. Without the help of commissions, I'd be painting my animals all the time. I love them and all, but I've already painted them. Not that I couldn't make a challenge out of that, but whatever; I'm rambling.

These are a couple of sweethearts that I painted for a mother to give her two daughters for Christmas. Her grand-cat and grand-dog, Murphy and Hugo. 

I'm not sure if I've blogged about my reaction to getting a commission before. It's very Fiddler on the Roof. If you haven't seen that gloriousness, you simply must. It's only the most wonderful musical of all time. Anyhow, I break into my own little version of "Tradition." Commissiooooooon! Commissioooon! Commission!

I'll stop being weird via blog now.

Alive & Painting

Well, hello there! It's been a while, and I feel the shame of neglecting my blog once again. Vicious cycle. Bad habit. I'm not sure what to call it, but I've definitely been productive in the time I've spent offline. That's always good, right?

In an effort to get back into blogging again, I've decided to try to keep up with sharing my newest creations. I've been doing a lot of painting, drawing, sewing and sculpting, so that ought to keep me posting for a while. 

Woodland Tea Party!

These three pieces were a commission from Cody, whom I am ever so happy to have discovered here on the interwebs. She's a pastry-makin', Harry Potter lovin', breakfast food enthusiast with two kitties. What's not to love, right? Well, she requested three 5x5 woodland tea party illustrations for her kitchen, and this is what she got.

As soon as the sun shows it's face around these parts again, I plan on taking photos, so I can list prints of these on my etsy shop.

So...uh...I'll see you around.

Imagination

I've been thinking a lot about the things I imagined as a little kid. First off, look how cute I was.

This is a photo OF a photo that my mother refuses to part with long enough for me to scan it.

I loved that kitty. Her name was Inky, and took her everywhere with me. She was super sweet, and never scratched me, even though I often carried her around the house cradled inside of my gold sequined Cindy Lauper shirt. I would have scratched me, even if I was awesome.

It seems like most of my favorite memories are of being on the road with my mom. I adored being in the car together, listening to the Beatles. We were together, and her big oaf of a boyfriend wasn't there. It was perfect. We'd go spend the day on the beach, or just ride around together, singing.

When we weren't singing "Happiness Is a Warm Gun" at the top of our lungs, I would keep myself busy by pretending I had a nature man that had to run alongside of our car. He couldn't touch anything man made, or he would die. He was kind of like a gnome, I guess. He was small, dressed in all brown and green and had a bushy white beard. Thankfully, he could jump incredibly far, because there wasn't a lot of green in some places on I-65 in Kentucky and Indiana, and we did a lot of driving there.

When it rained, I imagined that the little water droplets on the windows were alive. My passenger side window was like a giant petri dish swimming with life. I made up little voices in my head for some of the squiggly drops, and they were very interesting.

I loved to play library in my room, too, which was pretty normal, I guess. I'd pretend my stuffed animals were customers, my piggy bank was for late fees, and I had a little pink piggy-faced stamp that I would stamp the inside of all my books with, like I was checking them in and out. Oh, and I'd eat smarties and pretend I had a headache from working.

Anyhow, I was just thinking about the strange little things I'd make up as a kid. I have a big sister. She's nine years older than me, though, so she was only interested in my extermination at the time. I guess I was sort of like an only child in a lot of ways, so I was pretty used to keeping myself entertained. 

What weird little things did you pretend when you were a munchkin?

A Snoodle's Tale

I don't know how many of you are Veggie Tales fans. I fell in love with them when I was in college. My best friend's little sisters watched them A LOT, and I had never heard of them. I figured they'd be corny, since they were for munchkins, but quickly went head over heals.

That being said, this is my absolute favorite Veggie Tale animation ever. It's a special Dr. Seuss episode about being special just the way you are, and dealing with others' judgement.

It's only thirteen minutes long, and totally worth the time. Grab a tissue. Even if you aren't a Christian, this is such a good message for all of us, and I think you're going to tear up.

You can thank me later. <3

Staying Positive

Staying positive is normally not something I have any issue with, but this past year has been pretty trying. I know that I've got it good. Truly, I do. None of the things that I've been faced with have been seriously dangerous. I may have dealt with depression, poison ivy, steroid psychosis and Bell's palsy within a relatively short period of time, and they're not the most awesome things to experience, but they're also not the end of the world.

I'm going to keep praising God, being thankful for all that I have, and hope that this is over soon. Any prayers would be very much appreciated. <3

Quasimodo

I'm telling you what, folks. I just can't seem to get a break! I don't mean to sound whiny, as I know I've got it pretty darn good, but sheesh!

I woke up today to find the right side of my face unresponsive. I was scrunching my mess of curls, and singing "This Little Light of Mine" when I noticed I looked a bit like Elvis. The left side of my lip was kind of snarled up compared to the right. Then I tried to smile, and it was pitiful. Upon examination, the right side of my tongue and face were/are almost completely numb, and accompanied by a sharp pain in my jaw/temple.

After Sticking my tongue out at my husband, and reciting "She sells seashells by the seashore" a couple times, my husband and I were almost convinced that I hadn't suffered a stroke. I thought it was probably a pinched nerve in my already degenerating spine. Then my husband called my mother. She's an RN, and not one to allow her children off easy. She demanded we go to the ER to have things checked out.

A short while later, I was lead down a sterile hallway to room 21. The nurse in bright green scrubs told me that I was lucky not to be "drooling yet."I then waited with my husband for a nurse to come take my vitals. My face felt hot as I wondered, worrying what was wrong, and if/when I would start drooling.

The wonderfully kind doctor came in after a few visitors, did a quick checkup, and told me I had textbook Bell's palsy. For some reason, possibly a dormant virus, there's swelling around the nerve that controls the right side of my face, causing limited mobility. There's no proven cause. There's no proven cure. Catching it within the first three days of symptoms, and taking corticosteroids and antivirals, are thought to hurry it along. Swelling needs to go down, before there's any hope of normal muscle function returning.

Alas, I feel like Quasimodo. I can't blink my right eye, smile, whistle, make kissy noises at critters or curl my tongue. Nothing too vital, I guess. At least it isn't anything too painful. The jaw pain isn't so bad; more annoying than anything. Chances are, if this goes away, it will do so within a few weeks to months. I'm being positive, and willing it to go away quickly, as I would like my smile back soon.

It just seems like one thing after another sometimes, doesn't it? I can just picture the devil camping out on my doorstep, waiting to get me. Praying my way through trials and tribulations must really tick him off, which makes me kind of happy, but oy. No matter what I go through, I trust that God sees me through, making things as painless as possible. I am supremely thankful for that. <3

I'm Only Sleeping

Sloth- original watercolor illustration available at Mad Shiny Shoppe!

Understandably so, I think I've lost my faithful few. You guys, I promise I'm going to keep the posts coming this time. I quit my depressing job, and am making art every single day. I'm over my poison ivy plague, as well as the horrid steroid psychosis. I think it's safe to say that I'm stable...as I ever was.

This is a new beginning for me. I know I've mentioned that a lot lately, and it sounds all hokey, but it's true, I tell you! Art commissions are rolling in, thanks be to God, and I'm working on establishing actual work hours. I have a tendency to sleep in, as I can be eerily similar to a sloth. Then I'm up until 3AM sewing, painting or writing. Not the best sleeping pattern, I know, so I'm trying to change that.

With all this work to do, and the support of my magnificent, marvelous Mr. T., I'm pretty darn content. I just hope art commissions keep a'coming, and my procrastination remains manageable. I'm participating in a craft show next month, and I've got to get to making some more wee wonderful things!

Just in case you're new here, and even if you're not, please feel free to check out my etsy shop! I create all manner of funky cuddly things, personalized cake toppers/keepsakes, pin back buttons, greeting cards, watercolor portraits, and YOU. JUST. NAME. IT.

Commissions!

I've been pretty busy during my little blogging hiatus, so I figured I'd share a few of the projects I've been working on. I absolutely adore commissions, because they always turn out to be such a challenge. I find myself missing the assignments I received in art school, so I always welcome a custom order.

This custom plush is a Harry Potter inspired Totoro for a friend's little girl's birthday.

This was supposed to be a guinea pig for a friend's baby shower. She's calling him Bear Pig. :)

Professor Lettuce here is a custom plush for an old friend performing in a peep show.

And these two lovely ladies are my oldest friend's two little sisters. Their mother commissioned me to paint them for her.

So, what have you been up to, folks?

Sweeter Than Bee Pollen

Watercolor illustration prints available by request at Mad Shiny Shoppe!

Earlier this year, I found myself feeling like someone came and wrenched every last drop of honey from my happy little hive. That someone was my now ex-boss, whom I often refer to as "She Who Must Not Be Named." With her verbal and emotional abuse, she was pretty much a nightmare, and that's coming from someone who can get along with just about anyone.

When I graduated college, I had no idea how to apply my studio art/art history degree. A friend's father offered me a job making art with homeless and at-risk youth, so I jumped on the opportunity. I absolutely loved that position, but funding was cut the next year. I was bumped into a couple neighboring positions, and just counted myself lucky to have a job.

To cut a long story short, I stayed with that agency for six excruciating years, before I'd had too much of She Who Must Not Be Named's tormenting. I'm currently working as an artist/author from my humble home, and it's good great dripping with awesome. Quitting was terribly frightening, and things haven't exactly been perfect, but this new beginning is definitely sweet.

Are You Thinking What I'm Thinking, Pinky?

My beautiful big sister, and her handsome hubby, have just had the most beautiful baby...IN THE WORLD.

Friends, I'd like you to meet my niece, Claire Elizabeth.

She's just two weeks old, gorgeous and already planning for world domination.

Steroid Psychosis Is, Like, A Thing That Happens

Hiya, folks. I'm feeling the awkward, because I haven't blogged in such an incredibly long time. However, I'm feeling a little more myself lately, and I have something important I want to share with you.

Any of you gorgeous people ever heard of something called steroid psychosis? Just in case you haven't, and you get the occasional shot in the hiney when you're sick or have an allergic reaction, I want you to be aware of it.

My last post, for those of you smart enough not to read that depressing mess, was spent whining incessantly about my evil allergic reaction to poison ivy. Well, when I couldn't get in to see my family doctor, I went to a trusted walk-in clinic. I ended up going there twice, four days apart, and receiving two different steroid shots, as well as an oral prescription of prednisone.

When my allergic reaction continued, I was referred to a dermatologist. At that appointment I was informed that I wasn't given enough steroids to begin with, which is why my allergic reaction to the poison ivy came back with a vengeance. There I was given two HUGE shots of steroids, and told the dose would taper off over two weeks, and should definitely take care of my poison ivy rash. And it did just that.

I was super thankful that my rash started to fade, but something else remained. During the month that I was suffering that itchy rash, and receiving all those steroids, I'd become increasingly depressed, anxious, paranoid, and obsessive compulsive. Anything that happened outside of the ordinary was too much for me, and I decided that living was too difficult. I had no suicidal ideation, but I just didn't have the will to live. I cried all the time, and I just wasn't ME anymore. I feared that I'd never feel "normal" again, and was incredibly hopeless.

Well, through a lot of prayer, the support of family and friends, and a visit to my family doctor, I'm slowly getting back to me. My doctor listened patiently to my long story about the poison ivy, and how I'd become overly emotional, paranoid, panic ridden and more obsessive compulsive than I'd ever been in my entire life. She lovingly told me that I sounded like a bipolar patient, but that it was all because of the steroids. She said I was in hyper-drive, and, even though the steroids had been out of my system for weeks, I could continue to feel that way. She prescribed me some medication I was/am very wary of, but I trust her, and I seem to be getting better.

I'm not completely back to normal, but I'm getting there, and I've done some research I'd like to share. There's a lot of information out there on the interwebs, and some of it not so dependable, but this site was very enlightening for me. I believe this information to be reasonable, and helpful. Even a visit to my doctor didn't give me a name to what I was experiencing, and I think that it helps to label it.

What I've learned is that the corticosteroids I'd been paying to have pumped into me in order to suppress my immune system and decrease my allergic reaction, were also increasing the dopamine levels in my brain, which lead to mood swings, depression, increased ocd, paranoia and a panic attack that landed me in the ER thoroughly convinced I was having a heart attack. O.o I also learned that increased dopamine levels reduce the level of serotonin in your brain, which totally increases depression.

So please be careful when being prescribed any medication. Make sure to pay close attention to how you're reacting, both physically and mentally. Tell your significant other/family/friends what side effects to look for when you start taking anything. Corticosteroids can be a good thing, and I know a couple people with lupus that need them to get by day to day, but I will forever be afraid of them now.

Yeah, I had a lot of steroids pumped into me over a short period of time, but trusted medical professionals were the ones doing it, fully aware of how much I'd already had. No, I've never had such a reaction to one shot in the hiney. But I can tell you that I've had plenty of steroid shots in my life, and no one ever took the time to tell me what it could possibly do to me. Even if the chances are slim, I want to know what to watch out for, and I want you to as well. I certainly never want any of my loved ones to be in that 3% of the many steroid psychosis sufferers that commit suicide.

Unless my immune system is completely compromised, and I pray it never will be, I'll just take my chances with whatever crud or allergic reaction I'm dealing with. Nothing I've ever needed a steroid shot for even remotely compares to the trauma I, my wonderful husband, family and friends have been dealing with since April.