Angela N. Hunt

That’s a lot of mad, crazy, sad right there and wonderful, all together. It’s Sunset Boulevard and DeMille and faded Hollywood golden age and if this place isn’t a Wonderland of its own kind, I don’t know what is.

* * *

Print sale is still going on. You can see the details here.

I’m also at a crossroads of sorts. Next year is already shaping up to be very full. With the marathon in March and the prospective trip to Hawaii in October, the two other big rocks that I’d like to move are looking odd in how to fit them in. I want to get the Alice Assassin gallery show out in the world and I also want to really get started on Vaudeville Goes to Hell. Both require financing. Looking at it, I’m probably going to be running two separate crowdfunding campaigns with a certain amount of overlap.

Oh well. That’s life in the big city.

At least it’s good stuff to look forward to. I missed being in a decent gallery this past year. The SF gallery was a total wash and waste of time. Time to get back to the Hangar…

So, since 2011 realized it hadn’t shit on me enough, now the van that the Ant drives the girls around in has broken down as of this morning and is leaking fluid all over the driveway.

Yeah.

That’s no bueno.

Can’t get it to the mechanic till next week, as that’s when I get paid again, and even so, well, I didn’t offset all of the fuel pump repair.

So!

I’m extending the print sale!

In no particular order!

Print Sale!

8x10s for $20! (this includes the shipping)

These are the prints!

http://www.flickr.com/photos/angelanhunt/sets/72157602377926641/

Make sure you indicate which print you want and make sure your shipping addy is correct.

If there’s one that you want that you don’t see, just email me and ask: angela.n.hunt@gmail.com

The print I want:

Also, have a coupon if you’d rather have one of the prints over on Ye Olde Etsy! Enter code: FUELPUMP at checkout and get 15% off anything there.

Rather have a book? Don’t forget Hunt Press. Right now, enter code: ONEMORETHING and get 25% of any order.

I’m also just putting up a straight donation button, because even a dollar will help me out. If that’s too dear, I ask, from the bottom of my heart, that you spread the word.

And really, this year can be fucking over already.

Another lucky framing accident in that the Mouse was not posed, but went back to playing.

* * *

Is it the new year yet? *watches clock*

Very happy with how this turned out. Only a few of these are left and then the entire series is well and truly finished. At which point, I’ll just have wedding photos to process, which is plenty.

* * *

Looking forward to the new year. I’m ready to put paid to this year. It’s been too full of too many things that I wish it hadn’t been. But it doesn’t matter. It’s just stuff.

So let’s watch the sun set on this year…

The girls, right before going to bed.

And this:

http://history.nasa.gov/ap08fj/photos/e/as08-13-2329.jpg

That’s the first earthrise ever seen by a human from the moon.

…

I don’t have anything profound to say. Just… That’s all of us. Right there. We were all children once. We all live on that beautiful blue diamond, a water drop against the endless night.

Here in the longest dark, remembering the birth of a child, remember each other. That’s all we really have, as we spin through the night.

*kisses you on the cheek*

Merry meet and merry part, Beloved.

Shall we dance?

The Great Big Book of Everything is dead. Long live the Great Big Book of Everything.

As those of you in RL who know me, I am always companion-ed by an enormous planner. It’s previous incarnation was blue.

And then one of the cats pissed on it.

If I knew which one, I’d have a new black fur muff already. But! I digress!

As an early Yule gift to me, the husband allowed that I could replace it and now I have a very sleek, if still enormous, black Great Big Book of Everything. Everything’s been transferred over and it no longer faintly smells of feline disapproval.

*hugs Book*

Hey, you knew I had to have a grimoire. But full disclosure, it’s faux leather. And what? I am a *modern* Witch after all. Big stuffy Books of Shadows are for fuddy duddies. *grin*

I have Carol of the Bells on repeat in my head. Luckily, as earworms go, I am very fond of it.

No picture today and honestly, unless I really bend the space-time continuum, not likely to be anything new until after the New Year, unless I take something truly adorable on Ye Olde Cameraphone.

I’ve also done no writing and I can feel the mental twitch coming on, so I’m going to put some words on the current novel and journal my thoughts on this last week’s worth of runs. Sunday’s was another minor revelation. 7 miles and it was just no big deal. Took time, yeah, but… Physically? No big deal. I begin to really really believe with every fiber of my being that not only will I run this marathon come March, but I’ll just motor. Not fast. I don’t need to be fast. But I can see running the last mile to the finish line, my face hurting from smiling.

It’s a really great visualization.

It’s certainly given me the strength to dig out from the overwhelm and sorrow of the last week. Things still loom. I still need to offset the fuel pump cost. I still grieve for my friends and my family.

But I ran. And the Earth abided with me as I ran. And the sun shone. And my girls hugged me when I got home.

It is enough.

And a quick self-portrait that I took before the dance recital that I am very fond of.

* * *

*takes a deep breath*

The hits keep coming this week. I’m not on the ground yet, because the most recent hit is a wake up call, more than anything else. Not for me, because I feel pretty damn awake, but even so, it’s pretty loud.

The reasons for all of this are still obscure to me, but one overriding one is not.

We are the product of our cumulative choices. We are not alone. I keep hearing and seeing bits of the movie, Contact, in my head.

You’re an interesting species. An interesting mix. You’re capable of such beautiful dreams, and such horrible nightmares. You feel so lost, so cut off, so alone, only you’re not. See, in all our searching, the only thing we’ve found that makes the emptiness bearable, is each other.

And that’s why I can stay standing and moving forward. Because I know we have each other.

It is enough.

Another of my favorites from the Mouse’s holiday dance recital. She is watching Miss Marie intently, waiting for her cue to go on.

* * *

A lot of sad news arrived this week. My dear friend Mindy’s father died the day before yesterday.

Will Townsend, a dear friend of my husband’s, died in the wee hours of the morning yesterday, in a freak accident.

Other news I can’t share.

But I can share this.

Tell your loved ones how much they mean to you. Life is just too damn short.

As for me, I did what I do right now. I stayed with my husband because he needed me. I ran later in the evening and it was a hard run, one where you just put your head down and gut that fucker out. I came home and made post-modern sugar cookies (lumpy forms with sprinkles; hey, it’s art, man). I may have possibly eaten a huge chunk of bread.

But most of all, I held people in the light. I lit a candle against the dark. I kissed my girls.

*kisses you on the cheek*

Stay safe out there in the World.

This is one of my favorite shots from the Mouse’s dance recital yesterday, even blurry as it is. What you can’t see are that her toes are pointed and her hands are just so.

That’s my daughter.

*iz verklemt*

(And the woman on the floor is her teacher, Miss Marie, a very brave woman indeed.)

This? This is the magic of an art passed from one to another, teacher to student, an art based in the body and the heart and the mind.

My heart can’t hold all of this feeling.