I have to use white out on my calendar. This is not my work calendar or anything, it’s just our family calendar—like the one your mom hung in the kitchen to keep track of the soccer games and such. Ours was hung on the side of the refridgerator, right next to the door from the garage. Many were the times I would come into the kitchen to find my mother speaking tersely to one of us, usually my brother, when a scheduling conflict arose. “This. Was. Not. On. The. Calendar.”

I have always had a thing for calendars. Its comforting to me to come to a clean page at the beginning of the month and fill in a few activities on those little boxes. It fels orderly, manageable. With the advance of time and technology my calendars got an upgrade. There were computer-generated weekly schedules and palm pilots that warned me when someone’s birthday was coming up. These magic electric things could change font colors, flash reminders, and–wonders of all wonders—sync.

Then, I quit my day job. I blissfully relegated my PDA to the back of the junk drawer. No more meetings! No more babysitter juggling! No more multi-tasking! I could downsize to an Ann Taintor calendar. Life would be SO MUCH simpler.

Maybe I should have actually read the caustically funny barbs on the Anne Taintor calendar, because the whole “life is simpler” stay at home mom thing doesn’t really exist. Not then. Not now. Almost as soon as I tacked up my quaint little paper calendar, reality hit. Followed by white out. There is so much stuff on my calendar, and it changes SO OFTEN that I can’t fit all the stuff into those moderate sized squares. I have to scratch things, shove stuff into the margins, and add little extras on with florescent post-it notes. And of this calendarizing doesn’t even begin to reflect all the stuff I really do in a day…”grocery shopping” isn’t up there for instance, or “bill paying,” or “dish washing.” You get the idea.

Recently a friend suggested I solve the problem by getting a bigger calendar. Maybe one of those desk-sized calendars or a big soccer-mom style dry erase board? This does not seem like a good idea. Bigger calendar = more space to schedule stuff = more white out.

Instead, I think I’ll downsize. Yes, gentle readers, “Do Less” is my new motto. Doing less will help my kids be less stressed. It will help my brain stay out of the theta state where all the intake nerves are firing at the same time. And it will help me live counter-culturally to my experience-obsessed cohorts who seem to think their kids will end up living out of a grocery cart if they don’t have some sort of after school activity everyday of the week and twice on Sundays.

“Do Less”

It sounds nice, doesn’t it?

How about it? Wanna try? What are some of the things you need to do less of?

Read how this Irish lass celebrated here.

May the road rise up to meet you, and may the wind be always at your back!

Oh my lovelies, it’s finally here! Can you believe it? After a year of waiting in the dark, my very first attempt at a zine has made it off the presses and can soon be in your warm, cupped hands! I’m holding my breath with the excitement and (small) miracle of it all!

Here it is, complete with ad copy!

This precious little ‘zine is hot off the xerox and ready to bless your wintry home. Make your hibernation place a sacred space with prayers, songs, and tiny rites. Host a mid-winter supper with comfort-food recipes and a list of tunes to defrost by. And best of all, there’s a take-away prize tucked inside! (Just like a box of Cracker Jacks!)

Twenty-four hand-lettered pages fill this 5inch ‘zine with homemade words and images. Yours for the price of a greeting card, and ever so much more nourishing!

To order:

Email moi@magpie-girl.com with your address and you’ll receive a paypal invoice.
$4.00 each (includes shipping)

(p.s. This is just the art for the cover. I’ll post a real photograph tomorrow so you can see the cunning Japanese style hand-sewn binding, complete with a twig from my Hawthorn and a tiny recycled glass bead!)

Yesterday Paul, Rebbecca, the kids and I drove an hour to the Tacoma Art Musuem to see a special exhibit of collages by Eric Carle, children’s illustrator and author. Carle’s most well known book, The Very Hungry Caterpillar, came out the year I was born. I remember being exceedingly charmed by the different sized, layered pages and by the tiny worm hole that the caterpillar “chewed” through each consequtive page. (Concieved of by Carle when he was mucking about punching holes out of some paper.)

Carle, now 78 years old, comes across as being the Mr. Rodgers of the world of children’s illustrations. His gentle manner of speaking and streamlined, basic explainations of his artistic process belies many years of paitently interacting with children. Though he could easily have walked a filmaker through his cabniet of awards, a video at the exhibits shows Carle holding up page after page of paintings done by the pre-K to K set of child artist. At one point he says, “Oh! Look at this one! This one really taught me something!”

I took a lot way from the simple, colorful images and the kind words of their creators. In honor of the Creator of the Caterpillar, here’s my list of

Everything I Need to Know About Art I Learned From Eric Carle

Simple materials and techniques can go a long way. Cut, Color, and paste. It’s so easy Carle can explain the whole process with a few powerpoint-style slides. Paul encouraged me greatly when he walked me across the gallery to show me a few line drawings Carle had used as the template for one of his newest books, 10 Little Rubber Ducks. They were no more accomplished than my own new attempts at drawing, yet they were the first step for some lovely art.

Gimmicks can be wonder-full. Many of Carle’s books have a gimmick — the hole in Caterpillar, flashing lights in The Very Lonely Firefly, the creeking sound of The Very Clumsy Click Beetle. As Carle recounts the hisotry of his works, he blantanly and joyfully talks about searching for the next gimmick. He asserts that often there is nothing wrong with being gimmicky, provided that the gimmick is not a selling ‘hook’ but a means of inducing wonder.

Share your techniques. Carle gives his ‘trade secrets’ away gleefully, in You Can Make a Collage“>collage kit for kids, in his inclusive The Art of Eric Carle“>catalog of works, and through videos.

Follow your Bliss. Carle was a trained fine artist from the prestigous Akademie der bildenden Künste, in Stuttgartthe but what really “made” his career was his love of paste and colors.

Ideas may take a long time to come together. Carle once had an idea that he chewed on for 15 years before it made it into a book. (I think it was for Draw Me a Star.) Be Patient.