Looking back at my earliest works compared to the newest, I was genuinely surprised. You know you grow as an artist but seeing it all side-by-side was like discovering my old middle school diary… a little embarrassing, but fascinating.

They say once a painting is finished, you should walk away. I say… let’s grab a brush and see what happens.

And yes, we actually have graph paper. Yes, I measure each painting to make sure the spacing is perfect. I like to think of it as equal parts artistic vision and gallery logistics… though it probably just looks like I’m playing art-show Tetris with a ruler in hand.

The orchids flourished for a while—but then their colors began to fade. They just didn’t look as vibrant. I figured they needed a little boost: some Miracle-Gro.

For now, the Royal Mail is doing its part to carry these mechanical wonders across the sea to my doorstep. I’ll be waiting, tea in hand, refreshing the tracking link like it’s my new hobby.

This blog was supposed to be about art. Just art. But rules—especially self-imposed ones—are made to be broken. So, I gave myself permission to write about whatever strikes me as interesting, funny, or just too odd not to share. A special section is in the blog for these off the art trail blogs - Life Behind the Easel.

After using up all the bags I (very discreetly) ordered, I figured it was time to restock. It’s a seasonal item (, after all. I can’t imagine going months without it. So, I hopped on Amazon with the plan to grab two... or three... or maybe four bags. You know, just to be safe. Only… it was out of stock.

Valerie was all in, hunting down the perfect mosaic design for her frame. Meanwhile, I decided that instead of working on my pad plant frame, I would swap out the window in my half-bath with a sea-themed mosaic instead. Matt’s only rule: “No flamingos, for heaven’s sake!” So naturally, I went underwater—sea turtles, fish, seaweed, and none of those pink feathered party crashers.

That’s the thing about making art - inspiration doesn’t show up on command. Sometimes it hits like lightning. Other times, it sneaks in quietly while you’re folding laundry or wondering what to make for dinner. It’s unpredictable, a little wild, and occasionally rude.

One day, while watching TV, someone said, “That’s an acquired taste.” Without missing a beat, Matt looked at me and said, “You’re an acquired taste.”

The truth is, he gives as good as he gets. My family used to feel sorry for Matt—until they saw him in action. Now they think we’re a match made in heaven… or possibly an improv set gone slightly feral.

I scrolled through the entire collection. Then I did it again. And again. I started imagining which robot might get along best with the art already in our house—who would feel most at home hanging out with my paintings, oddball sculptures, and general chaos.

Ten siblings, constant “help,” and years of creative chaos—find out how sibling shenanigans inspired a quirky grotesque art series full of expression and mischief.

Still, I’m always game to try new foods and mix up my drinks. So, I approached my first blueberry coffee with curiosity—and, yes, a healthy dose of skepticism. Could this actually work? Could blueberries and coffee really get along in the same cup?

The first grotesque wore a purple robe, which clearly pushed me into monk territory. So, I leaned into it. Every monk after that wore the same purple robe. Each one stands against a bold background — green, orange, and pink. (After all, why settle for one color when you can use three?) The repetition gave the series some visual unity — like a weird, slightly disheveled, color-coded choir.

Never in my life did I imagine I’d end up married to someone in a band. Let alone the drummer. You know, the one with the most gear—the one who has to pack in and out a mountain of equipment for every… single… gig.

The Art of Small Talk on Postcards: My Postcrossing Journey (And Why I Almost Stamped My Life Away)

When you’re traveling, postcards are everywhere - tourist traps, convenience stores, gas stations. You can’t throw a rock without hitting a stand full of them. But when you're at home and looking to buy a postcard just because, it’s surprisingly difficult. My first stop was a small local store that did have postcards for sale. But, to my dismay, they were priced higher than I expected. Almost $3 for a single postcard? Not quite the price I had in mind.

Experience the 2025 Oklahoma City Thunder NBA Championship through a local’s eyes — from parade energy to fan stories, city pride, and beyond.

Sometimes a goat is a goat. Other times, there is a deeper meaning.