Vecchia Zimarra

This was a weekend where I barely saw the sky, but it was HUGELY productive. I got almost all of the Debbie comic done.

She’s getting her own mini, so I don’t want to reveal too much, but here’s a little tease!


Only other thing I got to say is I forgot how much I love La Boheme. Put it on this evening and it touched something right in here (I’m pointing to my heart now).

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A perfect goddamn day

Woke up from sweet dreams this morning. Had coffee, kitty time, and raisin bran on the couch. The sun was bright, the birds were makin’ noise. I went for a run, and butterflies popped out from the plants at my feet with every step—I felt like Snow White.

And the flowers, the flowers, the flowers. Jesus Christ, I love them. The vase of daffodils and Easter lilies on my kitchen table (thanks Mom). The thick, browning camellias that litter the ground. The purple dealies next to my front porch. The red, and gold, and yellow poppies.
I’m new to all this.
Jesus Christ, I would not trade it for anything.

Stumptown!

Can I tell you how excited I am about this? The Stumptown Comics Fest is April 25 and 26 in Portland, Oregon. Here’s why:
–I have never been to Portland.
–I fucking love traveling. I fucking love road trips.
–I will have a TABLE! I’ll be selling Florridian, older stuff, and hopefully, some even newer stuff.
–About half the comics people I’ve met since I moved to California will be there, all in the same place at the same time. A dream.
–I’ll get to shake the hands of some folks I’ve admired for ages, including Craig Thompson.
–Hotels and road snacks.
–I love it.

If you’re in Portland, come see me!

Oof.

I’m back in the studio.
I realized today it’s been just over two months since I’ve touched it. That was the night I sat down at my table and realized my relationship was over—attempts were made after that, of course, to “fix things,” but it was finished—my heart, and the Beck cd I was listening to at the time, told me so.

I have DRAWN since then. Sure. But not in the studio. For one thing, my chair was heaped with ex-boyfriend move-out craziness—for another, I would step in and remember just countless hours of working on a collaboration… and the cold realization that it wasn’t enough to hold onto.

Bear with a girl while she has another sip of cabernet.

Anyway, tonight I threw all the crap off my little chair and put my butt back in it. I turned on the old music and sang along to it. It’s good to be back.