Now begins and ends the verse
that folds back into now

Begins and ends, the verse that folds
back into now begins

And ends the verse that folds, back into
now begins and ends

The verse that folds back into now
begins and ends the verse

That folds back, into now begins
and ends the verse that folds

Back into now, begins and ends
the verse that folds back in

To now, begins and ends the verse
that folds back into now

(Begins and ends, the verse that folds
back into now begins)

I was still walking on eggshells when I visited Jill that evening. I’d never lost a family member, let alone a parent; so I hadn't really the means to understand her anguish. It was still fresh, too. We’d spoken since; enough for me to know the details. Still, she hadn't really broken yet. She was all cumulus-- with every cloud at capacity; but not a single drop on the pavement. Not yet.

“My car’s been acting up,” she said, idly. “A few of the engine mounts broke loose and it’s clanking about on the bumps and corners.” Jill tended to default to small talk, and I really couldn't blame her. Especially then.

“Hm,” I noted, agreeably. “Nothing particularly hot on the mounts. You can probably pin ‘em down with a few zip-ties.”

“Couldn't hurt.”

The air had a particular bite that winter. More rain than usual, and the cold was holding on well past its welcome. I noticed it as I stepped into the flat; I had held the door open a bit too long. I peeled a glove off with my teeth and took to another with my empty hand as I loosened my satchel and placed it on the end-table a bit too casually.

Jill’s flat was always dimly lit and uncomfortably cluttered. The furniture was rough oak, which looked almost like cherry in the pale yellow lamplight. It’s easy to admire a creature that prefers the flicker of a candle to electric light. A few books were piled on a plush red ottoman, under which a very lazy Samoyed convincingly pretended to be a bear-skin rug. This all seemed in place and in character. The keen preservation of the surroundings was in fact the very reason I noticed something out of place amidst the clutter.

It was a small green box: placed with intention beneath the hook where Jill kept her keys. I took a step towards it and adjusted my eyeglasses. “A puzzle?” I asked inquisitively, attempting to further the uncomfortable small-talk. “Don’t you hate puzzles?”

“Yeah,” she replied, with something of a quake in her voice. I made the connection, but it was too late. It was all coming down, now. “It was for Mom. I thought we could-- nevermind.” She stopped herself, overcome with embarrassment. “It’s stupid. Forget I said anything.”

I let out a small, stifled breath. Kath loved puzzles. Jill had wanted to work on it with her mother in her final days. But these affairs never seem to go as planned, and the puzzle remained on the little table by the door. I had a feeling it would stay there for some time.

The puzzle, for the record, was five hundred pieces; and its image was of a Basset Hound with his head cocked slightly to the left. Nothing special or interesting or beautiful. Just a stupid little dog, standing there. I don’t know why that image was so striking to me, but it never left. When I think of Kath, I think of that puzzle on the end table, Jill’s eyes welling up before the storm, and an ordinary Basset Hound.

Hm. Looks like I haven't posted a Babyloney for awhile. Sorry to disappoint, but we're not changing that trend today. Instead, do enjoy a few backgrounds I made for a nifty PhotoBooth program that a former client (turned friend) coded.

Oooo, Harvest Garden (literally just "semi finished" a moment ago) fits nicely on most screens. For the purpose of being a backdrop to my PhotoBooth, it's finished. Fortunately, I won't be uploading that file size. 4 ft by 6 ft at 300 ppi files can swallow a computer whole. Scream for Geppetto all you'd like, he won't hear you in that whale. For 5c, I'll probably work more on it (and change the sizing). The reason I want to is that this was intended to be a landscape, but there's something fundamental missing that defines a landscape.
10 points if you can guess what that is.

And how could you go wrong with Vintage? Yum.

Then there's...

'Merican Gothic.

'Nough said? Jah. I think so. Babyloney soonish.
It's a promise.

I like to go fast. It's a personality kink, and
I'm certain my speeding tickets would agree.

Due to this, sometimes a key detail is missed
that is important to the big picture (get it?).

So I took the time this week to slow down
and rework my paneling and template.

I think it has a nice kick to it now,
like eating headless gummy bears.
(You know you like to do it too.
If you've never done, then I highly
recommend that you do. Right. Now.)

Ok. Good. Now that they're gone,
enjoy this special treat I made for you:



Make sure to cover the screen if they come back.

<3 Heather

They're tooney
We call them Babylooney.

Fun Fact #1: Whylde Childe speaks an ancient language- Babblelonian.

This is a comic and art. Which means, to me, that aesthetics play a part, but "play" is more important to its core. Presenting the second Babyloney (all done):



Fun Fact #2: Babyloney has a first name
(Maybe I'll tell you if you ask nicely)

I am not Groot <3 Heather