Sketches - Thai Tea Pot

My last family vacation, with the whole family (Mom, Dad, Robb, Courtenay, and me) before our parents' divorce, was to Thailand.  Somewhere in Chiang Mai, I found myself in a magical tree house, the type of place that makes one believe in fairies.  And the owners of this treehouse were artists: potters and painters, and I fell in love with their art and energy and bought this sweet little, purple tea set.  Which I love to use to serve beer, because it's too small for tea, but the perfect size for a little shot of beer.  Many a delightful afternoon has started with a pot of beer....and ended with a special brew of hangover tea the next morning.

Sketches - Mustard pot

2 weeks ago, I had an art day with my pal, Max.  Max is amazing.  He's a one-of-a-kind, super talented human being, who sees the beauty in all things kitschy.  He and I spent 8 + hours hanging out: painting and drawing one Sunday.  It had been ages since I had picked up a sharpie, and I had forgotten how zen it feels to zone out on something small and intricate.  So, instead of meditating this week, I started sketching again, just for fun.  I thought it might be cool to focus on the stories behind some of the random objects I've collected via the sketches.

So here is the first one: my jug of moutarde, aka $18 french dijon mustard.  I know, its ridiculous to invest this much money in a condiment when I don't actually eat condiments, BUT this is different.  This is a memory.  When I was a kid, every summer from 4th to 8th grade, my parents sent me to Lac Du Bois: French Camp in the woods of northern Minnesota, where a pot of mustard sat on every table in the canteen, to be used for salad dressing: one part mustard, 2 parts oil, a part vinegar, salt and pepper to taste.  And although my relationship with all things French has been very love/hate over the years (e.g. Olivier my former French boyfriend, aka the first man who ever proposed, albeit with unrealistic prospects) every time I see this pot of mustard, I can't help but smile.  And that's a good thing.  So, I consider the pot of mustard to be an investment in joy and great memories.

Hanami

The best part of my time in Japan was the introduction to hanami, or the spring flower viewing party.  I've always loved flowers, but never truly appreciated the beauty of flowering trees along a hillside or a light breeze that launches hundreds of petals into the air like snow.  Sitting outside under paper lanterns with your best friends, drinking chu-hi and taking in the loveliness of a spring evening is comparable to nothing.  

I saw these trees the other day, while hiking at dusk and was transported to a happy night, millions of miles ago.