It seems many of us are never satisfied with our work.
One way or another, there’s always too many words or the wrong words or the wrong color or one too many stitches (but where?) or dozens of other points that make us never 100% satisfied.
Fortunately for us, these little nit nats only add checks to our overly full checklist. We know we’ve done our best. That could be getting published, hanging paintings in art galleries, selling a latest dress design, or performing a musical masterpiece.
I’m not a published writer, but in reviewing my past works, I’m not bad. I had a knack for language back in the day, but I never pursued publication very hard. But I’ve always wondered.
Now that I ONCE AGAIN am thinking of putting my books on Amazon, I’m rereading them for the 1,000th time.
And cutting and rewording things for the 1,000th time.
Is that a good thing? Is that a neurotic thing?
Those of you who are published — when did you decide enough was enough? Those of you who paint, when did you decide that the last swirl was indeed the last?
I think it’s easy to nickel and dime ourselves to death. Just one more stroke. One more trim. It would be an embarrassment to find run on sentences mismatched seams if you could have caught them.
It’s the point of saying done is done and moving on. That’s what I did. I think I came back to this idea because I’ve been bored waiting for summer and sun to come back into my life. Or grandkids soccer games. Or barbecues. Or all of the above. So I’ve wandered back to past creativities.
I’m glad I’m proofing this stuff ONE MORE TIME, but to tell the truth I’m getting tired of Anna and her adventures. I either need to send it out or take the next 15 years to write someone else’s adventures.
What are YOU doing on these between days?














Early this morning, I’m sitting here listening to Beegie Adair, a marvelous piano player who is a master at playing songs long gone by (she can be found on You Tube), thinking of a half-asleep thought/dream I had last night.
There is nothing more breathtaking than precious stones. Not only things made from them but shades of them in nature and in our own houses.



















































The Midwest is buried beneath inches of snow, singing the freezing songs of their ancestors, while most of us shovel and grumble and fall down in snowbanks.


































I have been under the weather lately, having fought a flu-like bug or something similar. It’s the time of the year when most of us are vulnerable …. warm spring weather one day, below freezing the next. There is a phrase for those living in Wisconsin — Don’t like the weather? Wait a day.







Today is one of those days everyone wishes they had more often … one of those therapeutic, do nothing, think nothing cloudy rainy days at home.















Sorry I haven’t been around to chat lately…. I’ve been doing full-time granny duty while my son and his wife took a business/pleasure trip to Hawaii.

















“Things” are everywhere! And so many artists create so many things that defy categories. That’s what makes this unique art.




























A big task ahead — one that takes patience, energy, and perseverance. I wonder if I’m up to it….

































I can’t tell if I feel a little creeped out or it’s just adjusting to the next step of AI-ness.















These days I find I don’t have a lot of chit chat to share. It’s like there’s a gap in my brain somewhere that provides a bit of numbness to the world around me. 








































































It has been too long since we took a trip back through the Galleries and peeked at the beautiful Landscapes found there.























More of Charles Sequevya Loloma’s jewelry can be found at 
Here I am in January, talking the same &hit I’ve been talking for the past 30 years.












































As I just released another Sunday Evening Art Gallery blog over at 