Do PhD Students Dream of Sheep S*****g All Over Their Dreams? Yes.

I wasn't planning on writing anything tonight, but the "fates" seems to be aligning to make this happen.  By fates aligning, I of course mean Netflix is currently out for one reason or another, and I've been trying to keep a bit quieter with my woodworking for my neighbors' sake.  First, some garden photos:

This is the bushiest one I've seen around and there are maybe 50 of these orange blooms on it right now with at least 30 more getting ready to open.  They don't last long though, only a couple of days at most.

Hell yes!  Succulent garden!  That viney one on the far right there got yanked out shortly after this photo by some jerk cat...

The volunteer California Poppies are poppin' off, and my new succulent garden is a GEM.  I love that thing.    

At the crux of this post is the fact that I've been having crazy and stressful dreams lately. The first one I chalked up to eating a really salty pizza right before bed, which typically causes insane but mostly nonsensical dreams that I remember for about ten minutes when I wake up but then forget.  The second took my by surprise last night despite a healthy early dinner, and a reasonable bedtime.

Now, I know listening to other people talk about their dreams can be excruciatingly boring so I'll limit any and all description to one sentence per dream:

Dream 1 (the pizza dream): I somehow ended up at a party with Guillermo del Toro and Alex Hirsch (creator of the wonderful TV show Gravity falls) who were both incredibly friendly and genuinely interested in me, and yet I spent the entire time terrified about and wondering when they were going to realize that I wasn't supposed to be there.

Dream 2: My dad and I were going to go out boating on a lake (don't ask, I have no idea...) in Alex Hirsch's catamaran yacht (again, don't ask...) he had given us for the day, and while I thought I knew what I was doing I quickly discovered I didn't.  As soon as I had the realization I didn't know what I was doing a huge storm blew in the whole lake turned into a whirlpool that sucked me down; I woke up as my Dad was trying to save me.  

(I know that dream 2 description is two and a half sentences.  Sue me.)

I don't want to beat it to death (besides, Netflix might be back up and I'm wasting time here!), but I think I'm terrifically stressed out about my qualifier that I turned in on Monday.  It seems appropriate the Neil Gaiman also tweeted a link to a Slate article about how "imposter syndrome" is a normal part of development for most people.  In that first dream I was just constantly waiting for someone to find out that I wasn't supposed to be there, and the second was the genuinely upsetting fallout from finally realizing that I didn't actually know what I was doing only to, *siiiiiggh*, be rescued by a parent.  Sheesh.  I mean, maaaybe I'm ascribing meaning where there isn't any, but it seems preeeeetty effing on-point.  

More-so, while it was recently suggested that I have a "man crush" on Alex Hirsch (which I will not even pretend to deny), I think it's more that I see him as what I hope to be in three years (30 years old and creative, original, successful, kinda weird, wears a lot of flannel, pretty good beard, etc... why? What do you look up to people for?) and I'm terrified that I WON'T get there.  Specifically I'll go down in major flames in the process.

I won't pretend that I fancy myself to be on par with the Alex Hirsches and Guillermo del Toroes of this world, but it just seemed important to put this all down tonight.  I probably won't go down in flames, but I think as much as I fear that, I also fear fading into mediocrity and obscurity.  Maybe it's a young-person thing, but I think we all kinda fear that.

Eh, I dunno guys.  I don't have any answers tonight.  Just more questions.  But hey, here's a bunch of code I wrote today that does adaptive filtering of raw CT data on the GPU to remove streak artifacts:

Here's an example of what it does:

Left: unfiltered reconstruction. Middle: reconstruction with adaptive filtering. Right: difference image of left and middle showing all of the streak artifacts that have been removed.

On the left is the unfiltered (i.e. none of that code was used), middle is filtered (i.e. ALL of that code was used) and on the right is all of the streaky garbage that was removed from the image.

Doesn't have quite the same appeal as a beloved, wonderful, beautiful, amazing childrens' show, but it's kinda cool...  So here's a picture I drew of a badass girl giving the middle finger.  She doesn't have time for your shit, Alex Hirsch.  Your wonderful, flannel-clad, handsome shit.

One more where I tried to capture how apathetic I was feeling this morning at work.  Proportion quickly got away from me so I went with weird:

One step forward, two steps back... both in drawing and life.

Goodnight everyone!  Let's hope for slightly more calming dreams, or better yet, maybe a couple of nights without dreams.  I'm sick of following my dreams, I'm just gonna ask where they're going and hook up with 'em later.


P.S. Almost forgot:


Oooof.  Does this website even work anymore?  It has been a crazy past couple of months and it looks like things are finally winding down for a spell.  Now it's just back into qualifier mode, which I am really not looking forward to, but at least I can concentrate on it without having my attention pulled in about four different, yet important directions.  Hopefully in the downtime I'll have a little bit more of a chance to get back into the swing of updating and doing non-exhausting art projects.

Speaking of art projects, the purpose of today's post is to talk about my most recently finished woodworking project.  Since I didn't post process/contruction/build photos this time, this post will be the write-up of the finished product and I'll talk about the design process and... influences?  (I dunno guys, I'm in new territory here with this whole talking about the work I've done.)  Mainly the goal here is to post a lot of pictures of the finished product and call out some of the details I put a lot of effort into.  Let's get to it!  Also, forewarning: I use a little bit of "art-speak" here and kinda feel like I sound like a huge tool. Just know that however uncomfortable you feel and however big your eye-roll is, I am about ten times more uncomfortable.

Beth's Bookshelf:

The bookshelf in its new home

With its new (skull) family

In the workshop the day Beth picked it up

This was what I would consider to be my first design and build commission.  I have previously done one other project for someone, a headboard, and while I definitely designed and built that piece, it was somewhat out of style for what I would typically make, and I was largely working from influences Ally had pointed out that she really wanted.  This request was for a bookshelf for a friend, Beth Wollman, and the only caveat was... that it not... suck? Basically, I had freedom to build any bookshelf, provided it fit in her apartment, fit a book twelve inches tall, and be made of light wood (in color, not weight).  Beth is an artist out here working in animation (she does many jobs at her current studio but started there as a storyboard artist), and well, suffice it to say that she's a pretty cool lady.  You should definitely check out her art over at and

*   *   *

The design process:  

I recently wrote a post about design struggles and specifically, it was about my design struggles with this shelf.  My real goal was to deliver something that (1) no one else would have come up with and (2) was personal for Beth.  After you get the pragmatic layer of this out of the way, i.e. the shelf should function as a shelf and should hold the things that Beth needs it to, there are a million and one different things you can do.  I wanted to capture something of Beth's personality in it, I wanted to have a least a little symbolism in what I made, and I wanted it to be beautiful and well executed, and have a bit of my own influence in it.  Beth had pointed out that she liked the live-edge walnut desk I had built for myself (we actually reconnected right as I was starting that project) so with all of this in my head, I set out to come up with a design.

The aesthetic I like most in furniture is that of George Nakashima.  He lets the wood do most of the talking, and lets his influence be on the construction, wood choice, and beautifully simple designs.  When I build things for myself, his work is largely where I draw inspiration.  I also love the wildness, asymmetry, and nearly unrestrained creativity of Wharton Esherick's pieces who was as much a sculptor as he was a furniture maker.  I think the freedom, and lack of fear he has with his work is astounding.  I hope to one day feel that level of freedom with the stuff I build, even if I may not always act on it.

Initial drawings of the bookshelf.  The picture in the moleskine was my "finished" design.  See any resemblance between that and the finished product? Yeah, neither do I...

knew from the get-go wanted to bring elements of both to this bookshelf.  I iterated through maybe forty different designs (a subset are shown above) before I finally came across one that I was at least happy enough with to go buy wood. (Spoiler alert: the finished product looked nothing like what I had drawn!).  I got really bogged down trying to imagine what Beth would want, incorporate all of this symbolism I had cooked up in my mind, and trying to pull inspiration from work that was already out there.  Most of what I drew was a clear "no" and only a couple even spoke to me enough to enough to not outright reject.  I was satisfied with none of them.  The main thing I didn't like was that they felt very forced: you could tell I was trying to jam in a bunch of meaning and influences.  If I had just built what I had drawn, it would have been a fine, maybe even beautiful bookshelf, but it would have been the angsty teen poetry version of what I was actually going for. 

Wood prior to any real construction.  At this stage the boards are just edge-glued getting ready for final sizing and joining.

What eventually broke the cycle was just going and buying wood, and most of the things I like best about it came as I was building.  When I bought the wood I had a design that I was happy enough with and I had a sense of how much wood I needed to buy, so I bit the bullet and bought... well let's just say wood is pretty expensive*.  Once I had the wood in hand and started acting on some of the design choices I had sketched out, everything completely fell into place.  Just about every joint, dimension, and overall shape changed from the plan throughout the course of the build, but ultimately all of the symbolism, influences and "touch" (both Beth's and mine) came together in what I consider to be the best thing I've built to date.  Much of it is understated and should be missed by most onlookers (if your symbolism is hitting people over the head then I think you're doing it wrong) but it's exactly what I wanted it to be.  And at the end of the day, we mustn't lose sight of its true purpose: it holds books like a champ. 

The Wood:

The birch is the slightly pinker wood on the left, and the maple is the lighter wood on the right.  The slab (top of the shelf) is figured pear.

If you look at where the shelf meets the side, you can see that lamination lines match up.  It's harder to do than it looks.

Similar point as above, from a different angle.

Wood color (specifically light wood) was the only real constraint Beth gave me at the outset.  The lower part of the of shelf was intended to be 100% maple, however due to an error at the House of Hardwood I ended up with some natural birch boards as well. They're really quite difficult to tell apart.  I actually leveraged this though from a design stance and the front board in the sides and shelves is always the maple board, while the back board is the birch. The lamination line (where two boards are glued together to form one large, wide board) actually lines up on the shelves and sides.  This creates a cool, two-tone kind of effect that I really like.  

Close up of the figuring on the pear.  I'm sorry, but daaaamn is this wood beautiful (af).

The slab top is figured Swiss pear which ended up being incredibly beautiful but is harder than a m***** f*****; it's actually used in place of ebony somewhat commonly.  Normally, the slab just requires finishing and joining, but I ended up doing a boatload of shaping to taper down the edges to to 0.75" from the roughly 1.5" thickness it came as.  Let's just leave it at it's a miracle we didn't get evicted from the noise and I didn't die of exhaustion.

I also didn't 100% know how the pear would look finished.  When I bought it it appeared to be fairly light (poplar-esque value) with some reddish tone.  Then when I finished a test patch, it looked really dark, like reddish-walnut kind of dark.  I chose the different dovetail key woods to try and contrast the pear or disappear into it (maple for contrast, koa for tone-matching).  That ultimately failed, just like my other design choices, but also came out alright!  

The Joints:

All of the different joints are visible in this picture: dovetail keys to the left, through mortise and tenons (wedged to the right).  That rectangular patch is a piece of koa placed over a wedged mortise and tenon joint.  

All of the joints connecting components are wedged mortise and tenon joints.  There are 40 structural joints (an absurd number... never again... well probably again, but at least not for a little while).  In addition, there are eight dovetail keys and one koa "patch" over one of the wedged mortise and tenon joints between the slab top and the shelves.  I had originally planned four large(r) mortise and tenon joints per shelf (two per side), but after doing a bit of reading discovered that a greater number of smaller joints would be less susceptible to swelling with humidity and potentially (1) cracking the glue and (2) splitting the wood.  Given how the grain lines up, (2) was a legitimate concern considering I ran into some splitting early on in the sides of the bookshelf. 

The radiating wedges.

My beautiful inkscape skills highlighting the pattern.

From a design point of view, the wedges in the shelf/side joints are very carefully placed.  The contrasting wedges (made of cherry) all radiate from a single point placed just slightly above the very bottom of the shelf.  This was in part to capture one of the original design inspirations I had hoped to incorporate, a desk by Wharton Esherick with beautiful radiating figured oak panels on the front that, when less humid, shrink to reveal teal splines that hold them in place.  I loved his use of this property (mostly) unique to wood that allowed it to continue to be this "living" construction material. Instead of trying to stop this ebb and flow that occurs in all wood furniture, he allowed it to happen; not only happen but allowed it to be a defining component of the piece.  

Wharton Esherick's desk that was the inspiration for the wedge pattern on the sides and really much of the shelf.

While I didn't capture that life quite as much, I did incorporate that "radiating" imagery into this shelf through these wedges.  For me, the symbolism was that of the scallop shell, one of the original ideas I had attempted to use for inspiration.  If you're interested, I'd encourage you to hop over to wikipedia to read more about the symbolism of the shell.  Nothing there is entirely irrelevant to what I hoped to capture.

From a more practical standpoint, wedged mortise and tenon joints are incredibly solid, however I had to place the shelf joint wedges somewhat carefully.  Ideally the wedges would have all run horizontally (i.e. parallel to the ground) to avoid any risk of splitting the sides of the bookshelf.  If all had run vertically, the mechanical forces at work, the ones that make the joint so strong, could have split the entire side down the length, similar to how you can split a huge round of wood or an entire log using only wooden wedges.  I took a balanced risk here: some run vertically which isn't ideal, but a purely pragmatic or a purely artistic piece isn't really what I want, only one that combines the two ideals.  In addition to all of the design, they should hold pretty solid for... ever?

The Slab Top:

An unfinished dovetail-keyed slab top ready for joining to the rest of the shelf.

The slab is roughly 3'-3.5' feet of a 6.5' piece of pear that, at its thickest, is roughly 1.5".  The original piece of wood was that thickness in its entirety and I'd guess weighed roughly 50-60 pounds.  After all of the maple parts were built, and I had cut off the part I knew I wanted to use for the top, I was playing around with the positioning and something just didn't feel right.  It was extremely visually (and physically) heavy relative to the rest of the shelf.  I had secretely suspected it would be all along, but not having a solution (or the capacity to visualize it the finished product) I knew I need to get the rest of the construction done before anything would come to me.  It took a night or two of stressing with no clear idea of where to go before it struck me. I even texted Beth that I had had the "epiphany" I had been waiting for.

The knot center of mass

That epiphany was to use a natural feature of the wood, a heavy, gnarled knot as a center of mass, and then taper down the thickness to the ends.  This would use the features of the wood, the ones that only wood can really provide, as well as relieve much of the weight I was seeing and feeling.  Also, because that knot was offset from the center of the slab which would capture the asymmetry I had hoped to bring to it from the get-go.  As crude and overly simplistic of a metaphor as it may be, Beth has a haircut that's asymmetric, which I really like, and it felt important to capture that with a little bit of noticeable asymmetry in the final construction.  If you look at my drawings above you'll see that's part of what I was going for even from the very beginning.

The Dovetail Keys:

Close up of the koa (dark brown) dovetail key and three of the maple keys.  Also visible are the wedged through mortise and tenon joints joining the slab to the rest of the shelf.

Some structural maple keys (unfinished)

The unfinished koa key and its maple counterpart.  This was the split I was most concerned about spreading.

Finall, when you use slabs of wood, you capture boatloads of figuring and beauty you really can't get any other way. Along with this you tend to get some natural splitting of the wood that is... hmm... less than ideal?  Over time, as the wood swells and shrinks with humidity, these splits can elongate, become wider,etc. which you don't really want in your furniture.  A Nakashima-inspired solution that I like is the dovetail key.  

Beth's bookshelf has eight in all, seven of which are made of maple (all the same piece of wood actually) and one that is made of koa.  About five of them are structural, placed over splits I felt would, over time, lengthen and cause issues.  The other three I added to continue the natural arc that developed as I was placing the other five.  The extra three are also partly structural (i.e. bridging naturally forming splits in the wood) however they are not necessarily over splits I was particularly worried about. I used koa for one key to incorporate something different, a little special, and unique.  I like that sort of thing.  I'll leave any symbolism up to the reader/viewer to find.  

*   *   *

I have to say, it felt a little odd to let this one go.  The headboard took me all of twelve hours to complete, from buying the wood to finished product.  This bookshelf took a month from start to finish, and while I don't know the exact number of hours that went into it, it was at least 50-60. It literally got blood and sweat (sanded out of course, don't worry ;-)).  I don't *think* there were any tears... maybe one day though. 

There are other little details and imperfections that I haven't and won't discuss here; some stuff has to be left between a lady and her bookshelf. I poured a lot into this piece of furniture and I think it has ended up with someone who appreciates that.  I'm thrilled with how it came out and hope that it brings its current owner and potentially all of its future owners many years of beauty.


P.S. The title of this post is a reference to a Bon Iver song, "Beth/Rest", that you should definitely check out. :-)  I leave you with a few process photos.  

* While I don't think price is really relevant to what I wanted to discuss here, I can foresee someone interested in woodworking stumbling across this post and wondering what it may cost to build something like this.  The final cost for the wood, which includes the pear slab and ~23 board-feet of maple/birch was $479.  I buy most of my "fancy" wood from House of Hardwood here in LA which will cut you a deal if you pay in cash, so what I ended up paying was a little less than the list price.  I also have some wood left over that I'm going to use for another piece.  There are lots of other incidentals that should factor into the total cost of construction, like the wood I used for the dovetail keys and wedges, things like glue, finish, tools and hones (which do wear out over time), sandpaper (of which I went through a LOT), and router bits (which also wear out... or break. Don't buy cheap ones...).

Positive Thinking

Let's start off with a comic.  While it's clearly based on me (the circumstances referenced are perhaps a little unique), I have exaggerated things for comedic purposes, so don't read into anything too much. :-)

A common thing these days among people in their late twenties and early thirties seems to be "impostor syndrome" where we lose perspective on our achievements.  I often find myself falling down these thought-holes where it feels like *nothing* is working and I'm just spinning my wheels with no forward progress.  Anxiety takes over and I cease to be able to relax and have fun doing the things I love.  

Midweek this past week I hit one of those points and, knowing how ridiculous I was being, just kinda let myself run with it.  Drawing this actually really helped put it in perspective and gave me a few laughs at the same time.  The punchline doesn't quite land like I wanted it to (I'd reword it if I had another go at it), but I think it gets the rough idea across. 

Sometimes we can really be our own worst enemies.  Just gotta remind ourselves to try and have fun with it... and draw silly faces.



P.S. I apologize for the Jimmy Neutron hair.  I'm going to play around with other stuff.

Can't build nothing without no thought... or measurements

Designing and executing something creative for someone is a curious process.  Stressful and curious.  

Being still relatively new to woodworking, most of the stuff I've built has been motivated by needs I have or my own whims to create.  Often there is both a pragmatic bent into which I convolve some decorative and technical elements of woodworking.  There's little fear of getting things too wrong since as long as it functions in the end and looks better than Target or Ikea furniture (sorry, canonical examples...) I'll call it a success.  Similarly, there's little pressure if you have something built and someone takes a look at it, likes it and offers to buy it.  But when someone is going to invest money in you, your ideas, without ever seeing something first, well that's a bit of a different story.

Considering furniture, thus far I've built a couple of tables, a "desk" (the computer desk on which I'm currently writing this), a headboard, and am halfway through a chair.  The only thing I've been paid to build was the headboard, which was also the only thing that I didn't design from the ground up since Ally knew very clearly what she wanted.  The headboard was also far enough outside of my normal "style" of woodworking that I wouldn't even add it to a portfolio.  Everything else I'm incredibly pleased with, would be happy to show to anyone, and the general feedback I've gotten has been very positive.  So it's all good right?

I've been wringing my hands lately over the design of a bookshelf I offered to build for a friend.  Ok, not just a friend, the woman who I've been seeing and am quite taken with (but don't tell her I said that...).  I think part of the hand-wringing can be attributed to *really* not wanting to screw things up, but the bulk of it is just having to face the reality of disappointing someone or failure.  

Quite a bit of time has passed since I've engaged in a truly "creative" endeavor where my creativity and skill were being laid on the line for someone else to evaluate.  What's more is that I've never really done that with money involved, which, while I wish it didn't, adds a pressure that is just a reality that exists.  In fact, I don't think I've ever quite done anything like this, and of course, the person for whom I'm building it doesn't add ANY pressure to the situation... right? hah!

I am not a designer. I hope one day that woodworking and design flow very naturally into one another for me, but up to this point, I'm still very fresh faced and just trying to find my way.  When I survey across the landscape of woodworking that I see right now, it's staggering how many beautiful pieces and talented folks there are.  Since I am neither an accomplished woodworker or designer, I find myself asking "what can I bring to the table that no one else out there can?"  Sure I can cook up decorative designs, simple and streamlines pieces, heavy and rustic tables, but just building a piece of furniture isn't really what drives me to want to be involved in this world.  

Wharton Esherick was a sculptor, artist, designer, furniture-maker who worked primarily in wood that I think really got it "right."  While there aren't particularly many pieces of his furniture I would want in my home, he made many of his pieces with not only the space into which it was going in mind, but also the person for whom it was meant and purpose for which it was intended.  The pieces were unique, artistic, creative, well-executed and well-built.  While my particular tastes in furniture aesthetic may be different, those are goals that I would like to achieve in the things I build.

In trying to come up with a design for this bookshelf, I have vacillated between simple, complex, asymmetrical, precise, live-edge, straight boards, joined, mitered, and any other adjectives you can possibly come up with to describe a bookshelf.  Mostly, I just want to build a solid, beautiful piece of furniture that would feel right in most spaces.  Truthfully, at the same time I really want to try and capture the person for whom it is intended, as well imbue it with a little bit of my own "personality" in furniture design.  

At this point, you're definitely thinking "he's overthinking it," but truthfully, I'm going to push back and say no.  Ok, well, a little, but not entirely.  One can go online these days to Etsy or Pinterest and find a thousand pieces of furniture that will serve your needs and are well built, but there's no inherent character or personality in 95% of them.  I could churn out furniture (ok, not "churn" out since I have two other jobs, but could make a lot more than I do) if I just bough slabs of wood, finished them and then screwed some metal legs into the bottom of them and called them rustic, reclaimed, hand-built, live-edge wooden furniture.  But what's the point of grinding through like that when I'm doing it for my enrichment as much as anything else?  For me, that would rob this whole process of value and I'd rather quit than do it.

If I'm building something for someone I can't help but ask what I can give them that no one else can, and also, what can wood give them that no other material can?  What are the properties of the woods that get used and how does that affect construction and meaning?  Are the joints unique and what personality do they have? Are all of the angles in the construction square; if not, why?  Not all of this needs to get relayed to the person receiving the piece (and most likely won't lest I truly sound like a crazy person), but I believe that it affects the final product.  In the stuff I build, I would like the details to have intent, whether pragmatic, construction-related, or decorative and while I don't want to kill folks with artificial levels of "meaning," I do want there to be a depth they couldn't get from anyone else.  Even if it doesnt necessarily get seen, I believe it gets felt in the finished product.

Daniel Miller is a metal smith and a close family friend whose work is astonishing.  On top of the pure aesthetic complexity and beauty he achieves, there is also tremendous skill and mastery of his craft.  Everything he does has incredible levels of meaning and depth and to hear him discuss his work is to truly appreciate a piece that has had thought put into every detail present.  His work is my ideal, albeit in a different medium.  I won't talk too much about it, but I hope that you'll go check it out to get a sense of what I'm talking about.  I will add that even the grain of the metal he uses is intentional.  (Did you even know that metal can have grain? :-))  Search the names of some of his pieces too to get a little more information about the story each one tells.

Finally, since just about this whole post has been about woodworking, here's a little sculpture I finished up the other night.  I give it a 3.5/5.  I'm happy with it, but it's not quite as well executed as I had hoped. I've photographed it from the side I like the most, so it's a somewhat biased representation of the actual piece, but yeah. Hope you like it. :-)

And with that very long, very rambly, potentially overthought post I'm off to bed.  Goodnight y'all.


Back to the known

Oof.  I feel it's only appropriate to start with this comic I drew about getting home from the holidays:

Holiday comics: The fallout

You'll have to excuse my fourth grade vocabulary and sentence structure tonight.  I really just want to post something, but don't have a ton of energy to write any beautiful, breathtaking prose this evening.  That and it's mostly just a dump of drawings and pictures from the holidays.

The holidays this year were wonderful, but exhausting.  It was amazing to see everyone, and I seriously feel like I saw EVERYONE this year, but I think being out of my routine for so long, not eating well, and not having my typical time-occupying activities such as woodworking, cats or work just flat wore me out.  I ended doing a ton of drawing, a fair bit of which has ended up on the sketchbook page.

I drew a couple more comics about the holidays with some KILLER jokes:

Holiday comics: dad joke?

Holiday comics: The moral here is that most people on airplanes are garbage people.

I mostly just saw people I wouldn't otherwise get to see!  Kyle and Lea were wonderful enough to fly my ass up to Vermont for New Years.  I miss those guys so much and wish that we didn't all live a billion miles away from each other.  One day I think we'll all end up on a commune up in Vermont or Montana or something and all will be well, but until then it's a bummer that I only get to see them a couple of times a year.  

Kyle and I actually flew out of a Chuck-E-Cheese adjacent to Dulles airport.  

Lea's beautiful mountain resort home.  I made that wreath!  No wire or anything, just fir branches. :-)

One of my favorite parts of Vermont New Year is that we can't do it without a fire.

Awwww.  I love them.

I've taken a brief hiatus from working on the chair in favor of a sculpture I've had in my head for the last few months.  I'm going to hold off on posting any pictures since I *think* I should be able to finish it up tomorrow or Monday.  

I think that's all for tonight everyone!  I'll leave you with this insane double rainbow I saw on my walk home the other day.  Who says walking home in a downpour is a bad idea?!  Totally worth it. 

I'm speechless.  It was jarring it was so bright.

Ok, well I'll actually leave you with this beauty shot of Mr. Kitty.  I think he had a hard holiday too...

Holiday cats: the fallout.