Sloth and Manatee

When I was a kid, my grandma Irene was an expert visitor. Each Wednesday, she would go and have her hair done by “Theodore.” In the Spring of each year she would take me to buy a sweater to wear on Easter (she was very religious). We would visit the Bullocks department store (she would say, “I don’t trade at Weinstocks any more.” I don’t remember what got her irritated about Weinstocks. But what a phrase! We should say “trade” more often.)

I went to stay with my grandma Irene when I was nine, and we spent pretty much the whole week visiting. First we visited the tomato plants in the backyard, where it was like nine-hundred degrees (this was Sacramento, California).

Then we visited people. We drove to Lincoln, California to visit Nellie Goodenough, who I think was 100 or 101 at the time. It took a while for the door to open at her big and ancient Victorian house, we waited as the walker approached from the other side. I remember arthritis had bent Nellie’s fingers at right angles. But she was hilarious, and sweet. When she learned my full name was “Elizabeth” she commented that I probably mostly heard that name when I was in some sort of trouble, and then she laughed. I’m glad I got to visit Nellie.

Next we went to the “rest home,” as my grandma called it. We went room to room visiting, looking in on people. Putting a lap robe back in place here, brushing hair over there. One of our visit-ees was her own mother, who I knew as Nonnie. We wheeled her out for some sun and then brought her back. We tidied things. We said hello to a lot of people.

Mainly, we spent time. We did visiting. We went, and we were there. We maybe fixed up something or did an errand or a chore. I think we also went and tidied up my grandpa’s grave.

We went on these rounds and were present in all these places with people or things or some tomatoes.

In these times it can feel like just showing up somewhere is perceived as awkward. Like you need a reason, such as tickets or an occasion of some sort. But it turns out you can go on your little rounds, check in with your favorite tree, say hi to whoever you want. The people I know who are good at this are people I greatly admire (like Frank! Hi Frank!)

I have been messing with the idea of making an art at my house and then inviting people to visit it. I’m not sure how to do this yet, but it’s in the back of my mind. An art visit.

Meantime, I will go on my little run, and visit with the bridge and the creek and some dogs and this tree where there’s sparrows starting in October and bluejays in the spring.

Sloth and Manatee Page

Brainwaves

Best of Brainwaves Volume One: The Fountain of Stuff

Best of Brainwaves Volume Two: Mom, Dad, I'm a Cat

License Cartoons from CartoonStock

Art!

A print of these friends recently sold at a lil show in Livermore, my hometown. Sabrina and Alice. They’re from the book Sofa Stories. I very much enjoyed making their vintage 1960s looks.

Print Shop

BunnyFrogCatSnake

What a mess this is. Just a mess made over breakfast for a few days. Started with scribbling lines and then finding some shapes in there and that became some friends on the road passing by something that vaguely resembles what it looks like driving past Mount Shasta on Interstate 5 in far Northern California. Pen, and then watercolor a little, and then dried out alcohol markers. Just whatever was around.

Things Of The Week

Well this is diabolical. An infinite collective word search.

A celebration of making stuff out of cardboard.

Thoughts on how streets make it easier or harder to hang out or visit or make friends.

Okay! That's enough nonsense for now.

May you visit with someone, may someone visit with you, won't you be my neighbor? - Betsy