The cat's story

The only drawing I've done recently: a quick sketch of the cat. I wasn't having any fun writing a scene, and then I noticed Beatrix asleep on the couch.



Here she is a bit more accurately.



She often sits on my lap when I'm writing, and stays very alert, with her paws tucked under her at the desk, and sticks around for much longer than you'd expect. I guess the bright computer screen and the tap-tap-pitying on the keys keeps her awake.



Sometimes, she'll slowly lean forward further and further until I suddenly notice a paw on the space bar and another paw reaching for other keys. Like she has an idea! Let HER finish the scene!

"Or what about MY story?" She thinks to herself.



You know she's got a story.

Getting fishy

OK, so check this out: My sister Erica had a moment of "HAYYYY!" when she read this blog recently and saw that I got the felt fish ornaments, since apparently she'd always been angling to get them from my Mom. But since she'd already laid claim to a bunch of other cool ornaments (the sparkly dwarfs...the marionette Spanish ladies...a couple of the Audubon-ny birds!) she didn't grumble too much about it.

Then it suddenly occurred to me, duh! Since I'm the kind of weirdo who happens to have felt and odd buttons lying around (don't you?), why don't I just make her some of her own? So I used my Mom's felt fish as a guide and schwing! New fish! The new:



inspired by the old:



I wish I could take credit for the design of these suckers, but alas. The credit all goes to the elder Meinhardt.

Proud Auntie post

Here's Henry reading to Hazy last year under the Christmas tree. I love how if you look closely, you'll see "NINTENDO" in the background. Lurking there, waiting to snatch the books away when given the chance! Bwah ha ha ha

Anyway, I'm sorry, I couldn't resist posting a nice, cheesy holiday pic as the weekend gets underway. And I fear there are quite a few more gem-like pictures of these two in the future on this blog, so readers beware!

In the meantime, happy holidays. Please knock back the nog responsibly.

Holy crap

Marimekko is licensing its patterns to H&M's summer collection?



Marimekko is licensing...some of its popular patterns from the 1950s, 1960s, and 1970s...to H&M's summer collection? Thank you so much for the report Aimee, I wouldn't have known unless...



whoa, I'm feeling kind of...like I might pass out



KLUNK.

Tree trimming

The other night I was over at my mom's house, and just as I was leaving she handed me a small bag of Christmas ornaments from her tree, for my tree. My mom's tree has always been huge and decorated with all sorts of great little things, and every year or so she gives me and my sisters and brother some ornaments, as she has plenty to spare. I couldn't believe I'd scored some of the felt, button-eyed fish I've always loved:


She made them herself. (Look how the yellow fish has a sequin AND a button for an eye. And the orange one has fins on both sides! Damn.) And then I noticed this in my bag:



"I gave you the little baby!" she said. "Isn't it cute?"

I guess my mom is trying to give me some sort of nudge? Like, maybe if I see a little baby in a wicker carriage hanging from my Christmas tree every day I'll suddenly want to have one?

Hmmm.

I don't know what I'm going to do with the baby. It is awfully cute, in its grubby sweater and blue booties.



But I think I have a new place to put my Homies guy.



Doesn't he look comfortable?



And now, doesn't he look like he was just eaten by an alligator?

A big flowery eyeball

Sometimes you just have to stop and listen when you hear a big flowery eyeball talking to you. It must have something very important to say if you can hear its words so clearly, even through the glass of the optician's window where it resides in all its awesomeness.

"You're working on a drawing of two antelopes playing cards. You're also thinking about starting to work on a drawing of some frogs in a busy kitchen. But you and I both know what you're really preoccupied with is your new play, and solving the problem of the second act. Sure, it'd be great if you could forget about these projects for now and instead finish the pink fur shrug you're making for Hazy for Christmas--"

You stopped standing there placidly, grinning, and turned to the big flowery eyeball. "What are you getting at?"

"You've got real multi-tasking issues," it said.

The milkshake

I had one of the most amazing desserts ever, ever, ever last night: a chocolate peanut butter tart with some kind of ice cream and a whiskey milkshake. I can't remember what kind of ice cream was because I was so dumbstruck over the tart and (did I mention?) THE WHISKEY MILKSHAKE. I was practically weeping with happiness into the tiny glass it came in.

This was at a very restaurant-y restaurant (hence the tiny glass) called Allen and Delancey, the kind of place that if I'd never met P., I'd probably walk past and shake my fist at, if I noticed it at all. But P. is a self-described foodie, and no one's going to keep him from staying up-to-date with the ever-changing NYC restaurant scene, least of all me. Sadly, I won't be able to post any pictures of his adorable mug on this site — he has forbidden it. He has his reasons!



So you'll have to settle for this recent portrait of us. If you ever see us at your local eatery, stop by our table and say hi!

They don't make puppets like these anymore

Apparently, I made this saucy, cigarette-ad-hairstyle, bad-glue-job paper bag puppet when I was 3. I wonder if this is the kind of thing I should keep to myself?