Getting artsy
My friend Hillary and I used to scrap together all the time. Okay, so she lives in New York City and I'm in teeny little St. Marys, Georgia...so it's not as cool as *really* scrapping together. But we'd set a time, IM each other beforehand, and then check in at the halfway point. Then we'd share pages and ooh and ahhh over each other's stuff. But, like I said, it's been a while. I haven't even scrapped (REALLY scrapped) since March. I've lost the regular scrap mojo, but I have worked on a mini book a little.
Anway, we decided to give it a go today, which really means that Hillary all but begged and I begrudingly said "fine...good grief, already". Right away, I felt like what I wanted to say didn't fit a scrapbook page, but was perfect for my art journal. So I switched gears. Put back the cardstock and pulled out the paints. I wasn't 3 minutes into it before Sean saw what I was up to, and of course he had to journal, too. What's great about journaling with the kiddo is that I get to play without ignoring him. I have a blast, he has a blast, and I hope that someday he looks back and remembers these times fondly, the way I remember perusing book fairs and flea markets with my dad.
Anyway, because Hillary and I always have to share pics, and it was great photo opportunity to get some shots of Sean amidst the chaos of our dining table, here's what we did. Note that Sean has the same leather journal as me, only smaller. Mine is about 6x9 and his is 4x5. It's the cutest thing. :)
Here he is, choosing his next artistic medium, I imagine:
Here's a close up of the artist, hard at work:
As messy as it is, I'm happiest when our dining room table looks just like this:
Here is Sean's finished journal page (and some "Valentines" he made by chopping up pages out of his coloring book!):
And here's mine:
For the record, I have *nothing* against Houston. I've never even been there, I don't think. I took the quote from my pastor, who once talked about how people should choose to be happy, wherever they are in life, both literally and figuratively. He talked about a couple he once counseled who thought their problems would all be magically solved if they moved back to Houston. Their marriage would be better in Houston. They'd have more money in Houston. They would have friends in Houston. Their children would flourish in Houston. They hadn't lived in Houston in decades, and they'd spend that entire time thinking they couldn't be happy, b/c they no longer lived in Houston. Pastor Curt finally told them to wake up...happiness is not in Houston! And he also said that the grass isn't greener on the other side; it's greener where you water it.
After spending the last few weeks lamenting my lot in life- I don't live in Charleston anymore, I don't own a house anymore, I've lost my creative mojo, I'm 30 and not sure where my life is headed, etc.- I came across this photo of our old home in Charleston, which we sold when J. joined the Navy and we had to move to CT. And I immediately thought to myself, "Happiness is not in Houston...or even in Charleston for that matter". Hence this journal page.
So thanks for the much-needed kick in the pants, Hillary. If you hadn't all but *forced* me to scrap and dig through my piles of photos, I wouldn't have come across this one. I wouldn't have remembered the words of one very wise man, and I wouldn't have spent a rainy afternoon with my son, getting our fingers inked up and spilling paint on our dining room table. :)

















