whimsical reliability
“A zeeeeeeeee-bra!” Thalia brayed. “See how charcoal pencils tidy up oil pastel smudge? Just like Cal said yesterday — mixed media is our ticket!”
“A zebra.” Nia looked out at a snow covered yard and wondered where the idea for today’s drawing came from.
“Saw something similar online Nia,” Cal answered. “The mystery of a lifetime is… intuiting. Where do we stay constant?… And, where do we play our edge?”
Zebras dream of polka dots.
~ Phil Caruso
T-shirt: “If you watch Jaws backwards, it is a heartwarming story of a shark who gives arms and legs to disabled people” 😁
(sorry, no quips on zebras I could find — who knew?)
With the dark background, the zebra has a ghost horse vibe to it! Oooo-EEEE-ooooo!
Thalia’s very early morning joie de vivre never ceases to amaze! As my own pedestrian interests are more common, I have to ask for the meaning of the petroglyphs around the zebra’s forefeet? Nia? Calliope? Grass?! Hummm. And besides, what is a “woodless” charcoal pencil? The charcoal isn’t charcoal? Or the wrapper isn’t like our oldie Ticonderogas?
Izzie and I heard a woodpecker that sounded like a machine gun as it pecked away at a dying oak tree. Unlike the very slow and deliberate whacking of a pileated woodpecker... I wondered if that equates with our getting a cup of caffeinated coffee or tea on rising??
Staying constant versus playing my edge is a great question. Constant = predictable is my usual thought. But my edge? Impulsive? Unbridled? Inspired? Helter-skelter! Reckless abandon. It’s a fine discernment, but important to avoid embarrassment.
Sincerely, thanks for stirring my brain! Far superior to peckity-pecking dead trees with my teeth.