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I absolutely love compliments. Actually, that's a lie. I absolutely love the idea of compliments. I love the compliment itself after I've gotten over the initial, "You're saying something super nice about me to my face" awkwardness. In fact, there's precious little for turning a glum day around like a well-placed kind word from a friend or even a stranger. But humanity seems to agree, a compliment can be tough. I once heard someone say that accepting a compliment is like trying to feed a wrinkly twenty into a vending machine cash slot; it just doesn't work. The explanation for this phenomenon can be found in how we view ourselves. According to this 2013 article in Psychology Today:

"...In other words, receiving praise from others when we feel negatively about ourselves elicits discomfort because it conflicts with our existing belief system. If we believe we’re truly undesirable, hearing compliments about how attractive we are will feel jarring and inauthentic. If we believe we’re unintelligent, someone lavishing us with praise about how smart we are will feel more like a taunt than a compliment. And if we’re convinced we’re incapable of success, receiving praise about our how capable we are can feel like a set-up for future heartbreak and disappointment."

Picnics are so much fun. There's something so awesome about throwing caution to the wind (sometimes literally) and sitting outdoors eating lunch with friends. I don't think solitary picnics are a thing. I mean, you can eat outside by yourself but does it really qualify as a picnic? I doubt it. Because picnics are, above all, about enjoying the company of friends in an informal setting. Still, I'll be the first to tell you that if you don't think ahead just a little, your picnic will be less Box Hill and a deal more like this diagram:

So to prevent your picnic from being 30% wondering about the whereabouts of goose poop, I've prepped a quick check-list of five things to keep the discomfort at bay. They are as follows:

1.) Bring a blanket - no one likes to sit on itchy grass. Mosquitoes are bound to find you.
2.) Bring something to drink - worst feeling ever is knowing you're stuck in a remote location for at least another forty minutes while eating (presumably) sandwiches. Without water.
3.) Do not bring food that needs a fork or spoon - regardless of careful preparation, forks and spoons always go missing and you're left eating pudding with your pinky fingers...and finding yourself very sticky withall.
4.) Pack napkins - I know we all like to think ourselves very adult, but I assure you that someone will spill something (double points if they're minimalistically wearing white to match their Instagram aesthetic) and you'll be an instant hero. Cloth or paper, napkins are necessary.
5.) Choose a shady place - sunshine has this unnerving habit of seeming not so hot until you're thoroughly established in a place with all the picnic paraphrenalia, and then beaming out in a positively Serengeti way. A sunny picnic might sound nice (free tans!) but unless the temperature is truly mild, you'll be much happier with the choice to picnic in the shade and play in the sun.

Greetings from the depths of Things Yet To Be Done. I'm just here for a quick update on the Gallery Wall project (This is different than The Gallery Life, but I understand your confusion). I popped into Goodwill a few weeks back looking for some frames to re-purpose for my art wall. First of all, can we talk about the fact that I don't want to pay more than two dollars for the frame of something I intend to gut wholesale, spray-paint gold, and fill with something far more attractive than the gauche sketch of a lurid looking parrot you thought was a good idea to hang on your wall sometime around 1988? Still, I caved and bought a large frame because it had character. The frame held, ironically enough, a sketch of the Governor's Palace in Williamsburg - one of my favorite places in the world. At this point I felt kind of bad about gutting the thing, but my gallery wall. Then I brought it to the checkout line and had a long and heart-warming chat with the woman in front of me about how much we love Williamsburg and the result is that now, though it doesn't fit the aesthetic of my wall, I feel a little bad about ripping it to pieces. I probably will, but I might need to have a brief moment of respectful silence for the death of something good. I'm so excited about this project. The pieces I've highlighted below are just the start. Some of them will like change as my vision solidifies, but so far so good. Our downstairs is painted with a palette of (mostly) muted purples and grays so since we are aiming to hang this gallery wall either in my room (which I want to paint plum) or in our stairwell (which already looks onto the amethyst vista of the dining room), colors that coordinate well with those shades are essential. I want to have some original pieces, some graphic pieces, some large, some small, some quirky, some good. And above all I want it to reflect a bit of my personality and the personality of our family.

In the pictures you'll see a random map of Greece spread over the Williamsburg sketch - I plan to replace this with a map either of Virginia, of Washington D.C., or of London. The jury's still out on which of my three favorite places will make it into the frame. Probably whichever I find at a good price. I'm eagerly looking forward to two prints from my favorite Etsy print shop, History in High Heels - art is one of those funny things. As an artist I could make a case for not buying anything, trying to mock it up myself. But I like supporting other artists and I think it lends far more color to a gallery when there is more than one artist involved. Here, then, is my burgeoning collection for this Gallery Wall project. It will probably shift - pieces changed, re-sorted, or omitted entirely. But I'm so pleased with how things are jiving so far!

1. Beat butter at medium speed with an electric mixer until creamy; gradually add brown sugar, beating at medium speed 5-7 minutes. Add eggs, one at a time, beating after each addition.
2. Combine flour, baking powder, baking soda, and spices; add to butter mixture alternately with sour cream, beginning and ending with flour mixture. Mix until well-combined. Pour into two or three greased and floured 8” pans, depending on how thick you want your layers.
3. Bake at 350 F. for 12-15 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the center of a layer comes out clean. Cool layers in pans on wire racks ten minutes before turning out. Assemble with:

1. Scald milk in a small saucepan on the stove. When steaming but not boiling add tea bags and allow to steep for five minutes. Remove tea bags and set milk aside to cool. Stir in vanilla extract.
2. Cream butter with electric mixer. Mix in powdered sugar and milk, alternating additions of each. Beat until fluffy.

Community is essential to informing, developing, and inspiring the creative mind. At least in my experience. And though online communities are amazing sources for support and batting around of ideas, nothing beats in-the-flesh time with creative people. And face-to-face time with fellow "creatives" is something I constantly crave and can never seem to get enough of. I like to be in the presence of people who are so much more talented than I am that I almost feel like throwing in my paintbrush. I like to talk to these people and watch how they work and talk about things and see how they use their gifts in their chosen media as opposed to how I use mine. It's a good feeling. So that's why I was thrilled when Rebecca, a friend of a friend, contacted me about being featured as a "mixology artist" at a revolutionary sort of gallery-event in town. Rebecca and her best friend Cait have arranged for a region-wide group of artists to pool their talents and create...an elevated exhibition hall, for lack of a better word. We have "galleries" arranged side by side. Sculptor. Painter. Writer. Dancer. Photographer. Jeweler. Baker. "Bartender." That's me and this is where I will be the evening of July 8th.

I've created a menu of four mock cocktails ("mocktails"): two sweet, two savory. I've sent a mock-up of the table arrangement to Rebecca and Cait and received the go-ahead. I'm composing syrups and infusions over this week and last. I've been freezing round after round of cylindrical ice-cubes for one of the drink offerings. I bought copper wire twinkle lights. And I haven't been this excited for a creative project since self-publishing my first novel two years ago. I'm thrilled to be serving at this event as part of the local creative community. I can't wait t meet the other featured artists and guests and since everyone will (realistically) be thirsty, I'll get to meet them all. Which, according to Rebecca and Cait's estimates, could reach 150 people. I probably ought to be more stressed out than I am, but somehow what I feel is pure excitement. This is what I love: a big task, a new challenge, and the glorious freedom to create whatever I envision. And in this case, it's an array of attitude-charged mocktails.

Cheers.