Author: Becky

Still working on that organization thing

He’s gay; I’m straight. He’s dead; I’m alive.

Sound like the beginning of another vampire book?


Not really. After being on a break, I’m ready to resume my relationship with Marcel Proust. To that end, I’ve finally finished Swann’s Way in Volume I of Remembrance of Things Past, and I’m moving on to Within a Budding Grove.

I suspect the reason I kept putting this off is because I thought so much time had passed since I started reading Proust that I’d need to go back to the beginning. The whole thing seemed daunting.

Then Linda published a meme/list called “101 in 1001.” These are 101 things she plans to do in 1001 days–that’s about what, 2.75 years? At first I thought it was 101 things in a year, and I was all, Good grief; how’s she going to do all that? The timeline finally penetrated my numb-to-numbers brain, and I thought such a list might help me with one of my biggest challenges: time management. I can manage my time, but there are always so many things to do that I get distracted. Maybe a bigger-picture list will help me refocus after daily distractions and duties.

Possibly first up is to actually complete the list of 101 things. I’m not sure what number I’m up to, but maybe I’ll publish it when I reach the magic number. And then I’ll start ticking things off, because I’ve already been working on some of them (even before I decided to create a list). There’s the added benefit that as things get done–those things that can be done–I’ll feel some sense of accomplishment or completion. Anyway, it’s all worth a try, and since Proust fell from the shelf onto the list (not literally), I started reading him again, and I’m enjoying the reading and the sense of making progress on this first of three volumes.

Many years ago, I bought a sewing machine cabinet (sans machine) that was the ideal stand for our TV, because it took up little space and hid the VCR, DVD player, tapes, DVDs, whatever. Then, when I got the larger TV for Tom a couple of years ago on our anniversary, I moved that sewing cabinet into my office, where it became a home for my printer and whatever I could cram inside it.

I recently found exactly the filing cabinet I wanted to take its place, so the sewing cabinet became–a sewing cabinet! Something I never thought I’d need. But when I was working on my most recent PR design, it was heavenly to do it in one area with all my supplies at hand and room to cut, and fit, and sew. Organizing that room is still in progress (and is also on my list!), but I’m getting there.

That’s my old PC and my Kodak digital on the work table. The Nikon is generally wherever I am, and the new PC is in my office, which is also an area in transition (so no photos yet). I’m hoping that setting up different and specific work spaces for my sewing, painting, and writing/editing will also help me stay focused. Right now, it’s a happy theory!

One thing that probably won’t change: no matter what room I’m in, I’ll never rush to deal with those pesky phones. I’d have to believe phone aversion is a flaw before I could change it. Not likely.

LJ Runway Monday: The Elements of Fashion (PR 7:8)


On the most recent episode of Lifetime’s Project Runway, the designers were asked to create a look inspired by one of the four natural elements. They drew at random and received either earth, air, fire, or water. Tim held cards for me to pick from with the elements written on them. I was a little wary of which one I’d get. I have nothing against blondes, but I’ve designed for four in a row, and I was ready for a change.

Once again, my redheaded muse was unavailable. She landed an acting gig in a period movie allegedly starring Julia Roberts. (I’m not saying a word about Mary Reilly.) As always, I wish her the best. I don’t know if she can act, but she’ll look fantastic. SUMMER, not Julia Roberts.

I was happy when I drew the element of fire. I knew a model with fiery hair who’d be perfect for the design I envisioned. Maybe my idea is somewhat literal, but I was disappointed in the PR designers’ fabric palettes. I wanted something bolder.

Did I get what I wanted? Please click here to see.

A bit of Sugar

Today The Brides are making a quick run to Austin to deliver Lindsey’s, Jennifer’s, and my paintings to the Creative Fidelity exhibit. They’ll be back this evening, but Margot, Guinness, and I get Sugar’s company in the meantime. This is always a treat. Yesterday, Tim and I shared custody of Minute, Sparky, and Paco. Paco was my best friend until Lynne got here for dinner, then he was through with me. Faithless beast.

On their way out of town, The Brides were kind enough to drop me at the post office so I could ship review copies of novels to Italy. Since I’d taken allergy medicine before I left the house, it was actually pleasant (the weather is GORGEOUS) to treat myself to lunch out. Then I did the thing that any writer with a new computer and an entirely different operating system might perceive as ecstasy: I purchased a brand new and current edition of Microsoft Office. My word processing software since 1987, I stuck with Microsoft through the Word Perfect craze–until Microsoft Word emerged victorious. Installing it this afternoon has made me almost giddy.

Or maybe that’s the allergy medication.

With a little help from my friends

Letting you know in advance: This post has several links. All are work safe.

Back when I was working on the True Colors paintings to show at Té House of Tea in February, several people asked to see the paintings. All eighteen paintings are now viewable online at True Colors.

Art can be expensive, I know, but the small paintings on my One Word Art site are not only affordable, but a percentage of every painting sold goes to an AIDS/HIV assistance organization. The specific organizations I support are listed on the True Colors link above.

I’m slowly developing a new series, an abstract look at one of my obsessions, windows. The first in this series was a gift to Lindsey for her birthday:


Untitled, No. 1

The second in the series is the painting I talked about last week, “Every Moment Is a Window.” It will hang in Austin during the week of March 16 as part of Creative Fidelity: A collaborative art exhibition examining themes relating to emotional work–artwork with elements of desire, passion, exciting creative energy and innovation. This installation has been arranged by Stagira Studios as part of SxSW.


Every Moment Is a Window

I’m very grateful to everyone who’s been supportive of my fledgling efforts to move to larger works and be more public with what I paint. For those who went by Té during February, including Alan and Amy, thanks! Lindsey arranged a quick meet-up at Té at the end of February, and not only did Houston artists Jennifer Mathis and Gilbert Ruiz attend, but Lindsey’s good friend and TJB reader Kramer was there, along with The Big H and the President and CFO of Hanley, Inc.; Tom, Timothy, and Rhonda (needing a good tea pick-me-up after an early-morning softball game); Lynne and Lila, looking like one of my Top Models with her bold choice of mod apparel and multi-layered tulle skirt; and Super Couple John and Matt. I had an inkling that Johnny and Matt were hoping for a glimpse of Summer, so I was pleased when she put in an appearance–and so was she, when she got to meet their friend Valentine.

Hump Day Happy

Ken is a shoe whore. There are more, but they’re on dolls. Apparently, shoes make him happy. If you’d like something to be happy about, please comment with a page number between 1 and 611, and another number between 1 and 25, and I’ll find something in the happiness book for you. It’s not quite the same thrill as a new pair of shoes, but it could be just what you need to prompt a happy memory, give you an idea for a story, poem, or blog entry, or just make you scratch your head in wonder at the foolishness of it all. I say we can never have too much happiness and foolishness.

It’s never long enough

Rainy days and Mondays don’t always get me down, but I have to admit to feeling a little melancholy yesterday. March 8 is my lifelong friend Riley’s birthday, and no matter how silence sometimes stretched between us over the years of our friendship, we always made every effort to call each other on our birthdays. It’s been two years since he died, not enough time for me to forget my impulse to reach for the phone to say happy birthday and catch up.

When I talk about my friends who’ve died, it’s never a bid for sympathy. Sometimes I don’t talk about people because it makes me squirm that anyone might think I’m exploiting their memories for attention. In actuality, though I think of those lost all the time, it’s rarely with sadness for myself. I have too many joyful, funny, and tender memories. My regrets are that I feel they were cheated of time and the world was cheated of them.

I’ve said it on here before, and I’ve said it in person so many times to other people: It’s important to acknowledge loss. For our own mental health. To recognize and honor their lives and our feelings. I always think of the title of George Whitmore’s book Someone Was Here. We need to say that. We, and those we lose, deserve for us to say, “Someone was here.”

On behalf of two people dear to me, I want to recognize their someones who were here.

Friend and cousin Ron contacted me on Friday to let me know that it was time to say goodbye to Kipper. I never got to meet Kipper. I only knew him through Ron’s stories and photos, and I understood their profound friendship. Ron wrote to me about him:

…he had more personality than any other dog or human I’ve ever known. A definite character, I could always tell how he was feeling.


Forever clicking across the kitchen floor, wiping his cold nose juice on me and stealing kisses at every turn. He was supposed to leave me two years ago when he was diagnosed with bladder cancer…coincidentally at the same time I was dealing with my own cancer. But he stuck around…I truly believe it was because he knew how much I needed him. Toward the end, his bladder cancer had progressed, previous nerve damage had become worse causing him trouble when he walked, his eyesight was awful, he was nearly deaf, he had some arthritis, and was starting to have some anxiety issues. And yet, he was happy. I know he was, I could always tell. Not in serious pain. I don’t think it ever even crossed his mind to give up. He definitely taught me more than I ever taught him. He made it seventeen years…he had a good run. And I never knew I could love anyone as much as I love him.

Thank you for sharing Kipper and his funny ways with me over the years, Ron. You two were so fortunate to have been in each other’s lives.

On Sunday, another dog slipped gently away as he rested next to his best friend. I got to see Bailey many times over the seventeen years he spent with my brother David. David’s an outdoorsman, happiest when he’s somewhere camping and hiking in remote mountains and the high desert. He used to joke that if it weren’t for Bailey, he’d never find his way back to his truck. Bailey was always game to hit the road, and if my brother was visiting and left in the truck without him, Bailey was not the kind of dog who’d curl up and sleep. He waited and kept watch, knowing his place was in the seat next to his fellow traveler. He tolerated the rest of us and even our dogs, but he didn’t play and he didn’t cuddle. He was a one-person dog and he never let you forget it. That’s why it meant all the more to me one Thanksgiving when we all converged at my mother’s in Utah. Bailey actually lay down on the floor nestled against my legs while my mother, sister, and I sewed on the AIDS Quilt panel we made for my friend Tim R. Bailey was there when it counted.

Our family will miss him very much. Thank you, David, for bringing him into our lives.