Martha Hull's Wicked Juicy Panfried Fluffpocalypse

Bring on the clouds... I mean palm trees!

Aloha! I have become "that guy" who can't ask anyone about holiday plans without sounding like a total DB, because when they ask me what I'm  doing, I have to say that I'm going to have the Christmas of my dreams by going to Hawaii!!!!!!!!!

Commence hating me... now.

I don't care what the weather does here while I'm gone, of course, as long as the cat doesn't suffer, but I am fed up with our current freezing weather.  The folks who get to go outside during the day are all happy about the sun, and while I will probably eat my words, I today said that I hope the clouds come back soon so that it will warm up.  Nothing inspires looks of horror and shock like wishing the clouds to come back. 

I never want them to lock in in the fall, but if the only way to get it back up near 50 is to have them, I'm ready.  Its so dark anyway...  I am really counting on this sun lamp working, you see.

Remember how I told you Death's Daughter and the Basket of Kittens was complete?  So, when you show your writing to a writer, you sometimes get constructive criticism.  Stupid constructive criticism.  Thank you, Brigid.  So it is NOT done, although I have had my epiphany about how to solve the huge gap in motivation about why this nice little girl is psyched to have a fluffpocalypse happen -"because I said so" didn't work for me as a child and I can't pull do that to my readers now.  This thing is going into Ver. 3.0 (1.0, 2.0, 2.1 being previous iterations) and I think it is finally getting ready to kick ass out in the world.  As soon as I draw about eight new panels and chuck some of my favorite existing ones.  I think 3.0 will no longer have conjoined twins in it.  Sorry.  I will need to bring them in in a later book.  But Death will be watching TV or some other silly activity, so there is THAT to look forward to, gentle readers.

Meanwhile, please continue with the hating of me being in Paradise for the Baby Jesus' Birthday.  and Bobofest, of course!  I think it was warm in the City of David, so is this not the most approriate celebration?  I know Santa likes him some hula from time to time...

Aloha and may you have warm holidays.  Happy Bobofest, all!

Robots, Harmonicas, and Nose Theory

I have completed Hoff's robot doll harmonica case.  What a terrible tease that I do not have a photo of it ready for you yet.  It is too dark in the evenings for photography.  It's my first bi-color 'bot.  She is silver and black and has blue eyes and mostly blue glittery bits.

The oak trees are starting to turn color outside the windows of ye olde day jobbe.  It is spectacular to live in a place where the color is still revving up.  It never reaches the velocity of Vermont, but then again, we cannot compete on the frozen air particle front, either.  We kick arse in clouds, though, but not this week.

It has been a challenging week, trying to juggle all of life's demands.  Was there ever a time when life was simple, or do we like to just pretend people in rosy olden days had things better?  People are so complex, I'm sure we can manage to take any situation and make it as complicated as possible.

I started work on the new batch of finishes for Death's Daughter and the Basket of Kittens.  I am giving Belladonna a nose, once she reaches child age.  I had gone through a no-nose phase back in the day, but then realized that noses represent worldiness.  A face with only eyes is a watcher.  A face with large eyes and a mouth is an innocent doer.  A face with eyes and a mouth and a nose knows something about the world.  It's unspoken visual language, but I think it crosses beyond my imagery and into something more psychology-y.  Or maybe I made it up.

Either way, Belladonna is getting a nose.  She embarks on too great a journey to be noseless.  Some days, it would be nice to be noseless in this context, but actually it does not mean you are any less in danger.  So that is an insight into how my fictional (?) worlds are created.  Can I make it more complicated?  Allright, let's go!

Although sometimes, Mr. Freud, a cigar is really just a cigar.

Horror!

First off, happy birthday to me.

Second off- so I've been getting up before God and his minions (well, if I were a god, I'd sleep until 7 or 8 or a hella lot later if I'd had a fun night)... so it's been EARLY as I'm trying to: 1. research ways to let people know about my picture books on the internets, and 2. get a full half-hour dose of my happy light each morning.  Finally, I made a shocking breakthrough.  I somehow didn't realize that my work bleeds (yup, I said it) into the genre of horror.  Not overly gruesome horror, but, well, people get eaten and burned alive and stuff like that sometimes.

How could I have been so obilvious?  I was thinking I'm all goth-y and lo and behold, I realize I have more in common with the horror bloggers than the kitten bloggers.  (If you recall, the book I'm working on now is Death's Daughter and the Basket of Kittens.)  Okay, I knew I shouldn't bother the poor kitten bloggers, although not a kitten is harmed in my work.

So that is exciting, non?!

Also exciting is the imminent cake with espresso poured on top (thank you, Portland, via the Pied Cow on Belmont), and a James Brown dog from Zach's Shack. 

I think it's time I finally pull my head out of me arse and go visit my pals down at Occupy Portland, too.  Sure, I'm disturbingly busy, but maybe I'm not too busy for history.

By the way, it is also the late, great Divine's birthday. 

The honor is truly mine.