A museum visit reminded me of a college professor’s challenge: there are no new ideas, only new ways to see them. From shells and mollusks to a boomerang-headed amphibian, I found endless inspiration for future paintings—and a reminder that originality in art often begins with looking closely at what’s already around us.

My Merry Men of Mount Rushmore painting is still wallowing in the ugly stage. Eyes are straight, heads are forming, and I’ve promised to keep at it—progress-ish.

Matt and I launched a backyard science experiment to test the accuracy of rain gauges. Round one? A washout—literally.

As I wandered through the exhibit, I realized that most cooks (and creators) tend to fall into one of three distinct categories: The Recipe "Stickler" The Recipe "Guideliner" The Recipe "Free For Aller" Each style reflects a different mindset. And while they can evoke everything from anxiety to exhilaration—let’s be honest—sometimes they’re also a recipe for disaster.

My art—and how it's interpreted by others—has especially taught me to appreciate different perspectives. Something I see as a whimsical robot might look like a propane tank to someone else. Or a rock shark to me might just be a pile of granite to another. And that’s okay.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.