I'm 30.

 I remember being 27. When I was 27 I knew that THIRTY was coming for me! 

I spent 27, 28, and 29 already being 30 in my mind.

At 30 I was disappointed. What? Is this it?

Shortly after marking 30 I was sitting on the bus, mulling over 30, and I had a vision of crouching on pavement and sifting sparkling black sand through my fingers.

I didn't know what would come next. My 20's seemed to be pre-planned somehow. But the 30's? What the heck were they about? I was thinking today that I still don't know. Even with hindsight being 20/20, I can't figure it out.

And so I find myself here, in 2021, my 30th year of making things. THIRTY. Wow. What do I do now? 

Seems apt, this post of mine. I thought I was going to talk about

  

 

 interesting and bleak local landscape

 

 

                                            some art projects I've done or am planning to do

                                                                          ephermera

                                                     this handmade model of the Titanic

 

 

 

                                                  crew of the Titanic (artist's rendition)

                                    Titanic passenger? Crew? Such a pained look on his face! 

                                                  Perhaps he knows what's coming next?!

 

That time at a show when my friend sold something he loved

 

 

Cats and what ails them