Spine Suffering, Studio Stuffed, Sustaining Soup

Let’s start with what’s at the forefront of my brain: ironically, it’s my back.

Yes, I hurt my back. Not in a heroic, “I was saving a child from an ice monster or stray dragon breath” kind of way. No, I slipped on ice while walking Tavi, who did not fall and who, I swear, laughed at me. With zero remorse. He may have even tripped me, but I have no evidence to support this as we were just out of range of the doorbell cam.

Later that day, as I was preparing to cook, I bent down to grab a pan and saw stars. Not metaphorical stars. Actual, twinkling, tunnel‑vision stars. I like to think I have a high pain tolerance, but this was less “ouch” and more “BSOD – Biological Shutdown On Deck.” I didn’t pass out, but my body definitely tried to Ctrl+Alt+Delete itself.

A video visit with a PA provided me some muscle relaxers and pain meds, so fingers crossed I’ll be back to normal soon. Or at least back to artist normal—which is just functional enough to lift a canvas, stir soup, and forget what day it is while covered in paint and epoxy.

Speaking of soup: I made a giant pot of Italian sausage and tomato soup last week. I always freeze some, thinking I’ll have soup for months. I never do. It’s too good. I have one container left, and it’s getting thawed tonight because cooking and traveling are both ill‑advised. Especially since it’s been colder than a snowman’s armpit here in Minnesota. I opened the door yesterday and the air personally insulted me (‑23°F!).

This is also the longest I’ve gone without painting since I started. It’s been since Tuesday, and I’m twitchy. I have a commission to work on and three new ideas clawing at my brain like caffeinated canines. Painting isn’t just a habit—it’s a compulsion, a creative necessity, a beautifully obsessive devotion. A healthy obsession. A soul itch. A cosmic craving. You get it.

The studio is transforming again. I bought a backdrop and some lights to improve my reveal photos and prints. I’m trying to get better at lighting and angles, but I’m also running out of room. Tavi has claimed the right‑side recliner as his throne (when his cousin Marvel hasn’t usurped it, which is often), and I’m pretty sure he’s judging my photography skills. Harshly. From a nap. While contributing nothing tangible but nonetheless being a requirement. A necessity. I can’t imagine my world without him.

Thanks for reading, and for being part of this chaotic, cosmic, soup‑fueled journey. Whether you’re here for the art, the stories, the dogs, or just passing through—know that you’re welcome. Always.

Kindness: the only thing that never freezes solid in Minnesota.

(Well… Not only kindness… Nitrogen, oxygen, CO₂, and the unwavering devotion of a dog who definitely didn’t trip me, amongst other things.)