Ghoul Friday

Testing. Testing.

*wipes the cobwebs off the blog*

Well hello there! That hiatus was longer than expected, wasn't it? Sometimes life demands your attention be elsewhere, and your energies need to be reserved for a specific task. Mine was health.

I've spent the last 3 months researching, learning, and changing my lifestyle in an attempt to get this poor old body happier, or at least working with me and not against me. In doing so, I've managed to drop 16 pounds and reduce the angry physical symptoms that dominated my health and well being.

I'm still working at getting healthy again, but now I feel as if I have energy to spread between working on my physical state and my creative spirit.

Sunday was spent on the simple artistic task of building armatures for future sculpts (as well as some of those faces you see above who have been nagging me for a body).

Long story short: I'm back. I won't be jumping in with daily posts just yet, but you will be seeing updates more often.

I've been kinda quiet online lately. Have been feeling more fatigued than usual, and thought it might be the January blahs. Haven't been able to concentrate, or get art projects finished (started, yes, but not completed).

I've had enough energy for work and that's about it.

Turns out, on top of various other medical mysteries, my iron and Vitamin D levels are in the basement, and my vitamin B12 is on the brink of tumbling down the stairs to join them.

This would explain why the other day, when Yetch had left some homemade hamburgers in the fridge, I unwrapped a patty, took a taste, and then shoved the whole thing in my mouth as if I hadn't eaten for days.

At first I thought perhaps it was the first stage of "turning". Next step would be the neighbourhood pets all go missing. And finally one morning Yetch would awaken to me gnawing on his forehead, and my saying "sshhhh...go back to sleep...*gnaw gnaw gnaw*".

I share this bit of information with you for two reasons: 1) it explains my absence from online participation, including emails that remain unanswered (I generally don't have much energy at the end of a good day, but with this added bonus I'm a complete zombie). And 2) if YOU have been feeling uncharacteristically exhausted, moody, cloudy headed, achy and did I mention exhausted, perhaps you should make some time for a good old fashioned blood test.

Here's hoping with the help of some supplements and a little shift in my diet, I'll be back to...well, what's normal for me...soon.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have 500 different pills to take.

For years I've wanted a glass cabinet that would protect my art and display my personal collection of items. Thanks to an early Christmas present from ma mere (thanks mom!), all my goodies have a home.

It even has white and orange stripes on the backboard.

With a little creative cutting, I was able to make a hidden opening to run wires through so I could have two of my lamps and a string of lights inside.

The funny thing about it (wasn't funny until about an hour ago when I solved the problem) was one of the main items I wanted protected - the carnivorous plant - didn't fit. I kept trying to be ok with the idea, but finally decided enough was enough, and I pulled out the trusty hacksaw. I always thought the thing was too tall (hey, it was my first plant), and if I end up ruining it, well, that would solve my problem too and I wouldn't have to worry about the darn thing anymore (it hasn't looked right ANYWHERE I put it).

Did you know using a hacksaw on an item you're mad at is therapeutic?

With a little touch up, it all worked out.

Now let me take you on a tour of my cabinet.

I've been getting a number of messages regarding my vanishing act. Here's the low down.

I thought once Halloween hit, life would slow down as it usually does. Instead, it's done just the opposite, and I haven't had time to catch my breath. Any spare moment I have had has been dedicated to reorganizing the storage of my art supplies, finished pieces, works in progress, and all the things I use for my table displays at shows (mainly finding logical spots to store them during the off season. Only so much fits under the bed. I'm crowding the actual monsters under there, squishing them between the necklace stand and the oversized narrow white bin. They are very unhappy with me).

My story doesn't get much more interesting from this point on, but people who appreciate the art of organizing might want to check out the pictures below.

When I say organize, I mean just short of printing out labels, people. I didn't have money to buy new containers or anything fancy like that, but instead I rearranged and stacked furniture, and put to use every small tupperware container I owned.

I've been living with piles of plastic bags, bursting with one type of art material or another, hidden throughout the room (heck, throughout the entire main floor), and it felt like they were falling in on me. I didn't know where anything was, and I'd have to go on a treasure hunt to find them.

Now, almost everything is in one spot, and it's incorporated into the space so I don't have to see it.

Quick, amusing story.

Yesterday I went to pick up a parcel at the post office. I'd missed the delivery and now had to bring my ticket to pick it up. The name on the ticket they left was G. Friday.

I paused, and scribbled something down on a piece of paper, laughing at myself for doing so, and slipped the paper in my pocket.

The lineup at the post-office was huge, and it seemed a comedy of errors was taking place before me. Ludicrous conflicts combined with a pleasant but not-so-bright postal employee makes for frustrations. I petted the paper in my pocket, thinking to myself again that it was silly and I wouldn't need it.

I get to the front of the line, take out my driver's license, and the woman retrieves my package. She looks to my license, to the package, and back to me. "How do you know...Ghoul Friday?"

I blink. Really? Really? You were expecting someone to produce I.D. with Ghoul Friday on it to pick this package up? I.D. which, of course, I don't have.

Now I have one of two options: I can try to explain to this person that she is my artist/pen name, and suffer the ridiculousness I'd witnessed in front of me that was suffered by earlier patrons, and hold up the line more, or...or I could pull out the piece of paper that's in my pocket.

I pulled out the piece of paper and put it on the counter.

It read "I give (insert my real name here) permission to pick up my parcel. G. Friday".

I hear myself say "We're business partners."

I watch the woman enter it into the computer and file away the paper.

So, according to the Canadian Postal Service, Ghoul Friday might be a Canadian citizen. And I'm allowed to pick up her mail.