Freshly inspired and injected with creative energy from the SCBWI Mid-Winter Conference in NYC, I return to the most urgent task at hand—artwork for the cover of the nifty 7″ vinyl record that will accompany the special limited edition pre-order package of Sing Me to Sleep – Indie Lullabies. The project has officially been leaked to the indie music media, and we have received some early blurbs from Pitchfork, CHARTattack, TwentyFourBit, top-40charts.com, Avopolis Music Network and wearsthetrousers.com. We leaked a free download of Dean & Britta’s track, “Making Me Smile” to Muruch and there is already a fan video on YouTube.

That made me smile. :’)

When the 7″ art is complete I’ll move on to the CD cover art, continue planning release parties in May, and recruit some of my favorite fellow illustrators to create poster art for individual songs from the album. My plan is to have the posters available for sale at the release parties and online, and then, gathered printed in an anthology of lullabies in picture book format. Sound cool or what?

January, January, January. My birth month seems more like my birthing month this year. I cannot keep up. Both of my babies—”Time to Fly” and “Sing Me to Sleep”—require equal attention right now. They stay up late and disturb my sleep every night. When the sun rises they rub the dreams from their eyes, pout their rosy red lips and howl until I change and feed them. Needy little twins, they are, this CD cover, that picture book. They don’t care how much sleep I have, or lack.

But they are my children, and I love them.

A common theme amongst my friends’ comments on Facebook, Twitter and blogs this week has been, “good riddance, 2009!” I’m with you. Actually, I’m done with the 2000’s as a whole. The new decade (which I am not sure what to call yet—the Tens?) brings yet another new beginning, and my hope is that this one will take. I’ve had 10 years of new beginnings under my belt and I have tired of rebirth. I am ready now to live.

In the spirit of the holidays, however, I will give thanks for the people who made a difference in my life this year. You who gave me shelter when I had none, you who offered me opportunities and inspiration, you who protected me from harm, and you who have loved me through it all—I thank you with all my heart.

XO

(Above pic taken by Scott McBride at the Michner Museum in Doylestown, PA after viewing the no-cameras-allowed Jim Henson exhibit. Definitely a highlight of the year.)

Maggie, for one, is always ready. She’s donning her traditional green and red jingles around the house and savoring every morsel of extra attention she gets just for being festive.

I’ve come as close as I can to wearing a big red bow on my head day and night.

Sometimes it’s the silly little things that best incite Christmas cheer. Especially when there’s not a smidgeon of snow, and one needs to resort to last year’s photos to roll out the canine cuteness.

This must be remedied. Hmmm.

I never was much of a summer person. Even during school years, when every kid in their right mind was just itching for the last bell on the last day of school, my mind and body hyper-focused on the discomfort of the heat. I remember how the sweat on the back of my neck would dampen the light blue butterfly collar of that stiff school uniform. My head feels light just thinking about the Fourth of July parades, where I sweltered under paper streamers, clammy hands stained with their red and blue dye. Of course, there were lots of things to love about summer—sleeping in, long days, the ice cream truck. But was it ever my season? No, not at all.

As the days would shorten near the end of August, I would look forward to wearing the old uniform. Shopping for fresh school supplies could erase any sour memory of the year before. There is still nothing quite like a brand new blank notebook. Those and empty sketchbooks beg for creativity and promise rewards.

Autumn’s greatest gift was the relief from summer heat. Crisp windy days fell into inky dark nights. The air felt different, it smelled different. I felt different. Fall was my Spring—time for rebirth, for reinvention.

I suppose that’s been an ongoing theme in my life, in this journal. Changing colors, losing leaves to the wind, going bare, digging deep roots for survival through rain, sleet and snow. I’m not sure why the anticipation of winter pleases me so much more than the beginning of summer. The characteristics of the season are harsh and unforgiving. It’s not the holidays, it’s not even my birthday (ok maybe a little) for which I grow impatient. Snow. I crave snow.

The first signs of its arrival—heavy charcoal clouds, its faint, distant scent—stir a certain level of giddiness in me that nothing else can. If I were still in Colorado, I’d already have slid and skied in it by now. I’ve been trying desperately not to dwell on that, which means I’ve been thinking about it constantly.

You can take the snowbird out of the snow, but you can’t take the snow out of the snowbird.

*begin snow dance*

“Sing Me To Sleep – Indie Lullabies” has been my little pet project since earlier this year. Along with Joe Spadaro of American Laundromat Records, I am co-producing this compilation of non-traditional lullabies performed by some of my favorite indie artists. Here’s the list:

Where have I been and what I have I been doing?

Everywhere, everything, all over… and over again. I landed in Chester County, PA on October 10. I am still unpacking.

Evidence of travels:

My last plein air painting in Colorado, in Rocky Mountain National Park:

I am eager to paint again.

Song of the moment: The Rest’s cover of “With Every Heartbeat” by Robyn

I sit at my desk in my office in my Denver for most likely the last time. I’ve packed everything but the computer, printer and scanner in this room. My official move-out date is October 3, but before then there won’t be much time to sit at a desk and type away.

Since early September I’ve been posting photos of my activities and local scenery on Facebook. Plein air painting. A camping trip and party. Driving. Drawing. Packing. Walking. Soaking it in. Purging it out. Ignoring regrets and allowing personal growth.

When I first arrived in Colorado on September 12, 2005, I swore I would journal and sketch my new surroundings every single day. Did I? No. But I did sketch a lot more than I remembered. These things come out to play when I must stop and pack them all in boxes. Sketchbook upon sketchbook upon sketchbook. Journals. Paintings. Drawings. Books about all these subjects. For someone who lives rather lightly, I certainly do have a lot of boxes to load. My collective art archives span back to 1992.

It is rather nice to see that I do indeed have an archive, that I haven’t thrown it all away in a moment of self-doubt, that I’ve held onto what means the most, and that I know what means the most overall.

When I realized that all my moleskines were full (it is a rarity that I actually fill a sketchbook front-to-back), I went to the store and bought 3 more. Aaah. The size, the portability, the flatness when opened. The versatility of the paper for various media. They work for me.

One thing I never did when I drove out to Colorado the first time was document my trip in drawings. I think that, since I will have Scott at the wheel, I will draw a lot this time. I know I will. I must. I do not want to forget.

Above – entry 1. Berthoud Falls. Aspen groves slide down an avalanche shoot like froezen  waterfall of gold glitter. Berthoud Pass. September 28, 2009