Chalk Dust Clouds

Howdy y'all! It's been.... a while. Sorry 'bout that! But here is a story worth coming back for.

I have been wanting to illustrate this story for a while. I apologize if it seems a bit rusty.

I have kids. My oldest daughter is my sidekick. I love the heck outta her. She is artsy, independent, and persistent. All of which were apparent on a lovely summer day last year.

She was sitting on our patio steps, playing with chalk. Innocent enough, right? I was in the kitchen, doing something kitchen related.

Now, for whatever reason, my children do not play with chalk in the conventional way.

That's right, they rub chalk on the cement until a nice pile builds up, then BLOW. IT. INTO. THE. AIR. Unfortunately for her, the wind was blowing in her face. Which is where the chalk dust went. More specifically, into her EYES.

Five minutes later, she had calmed down. She went back to playing with the chalk.

Playing with the chalk in the exact. Same. Way.

Another 5 minutes pass by.

Poor sweet princess.

Surely, she has figured out what is going on, right?

WRONG! SO SO WRONG!

Sometimes, intervening is necessary.

Father's Day!

It's Father's Day! Woohoo!! Time for some stories and pictures of my Pops!

I hated riding the bus when I was in elementary school. SO much. It was kinda scary. The kids were loud, annoying, and most of the time mean. But that was bearable. What made it the worst, was that moving vehicles put me to sleep. I remember falling asleep a few times, and missing my stop. As a kid, what this escalates to is "I AM NEVER GOING TO GET HOME! I'M LOST FOREVER!!!" On days when my mom would tell me to ride the bus home, I dreaded the end of the day. Because obviously, today was the day I would never make it home.

On several occasions, my loving Father was a site for sore eyes. The bus would pull up to my street, and low and behold, there was my Dad, waiting in his truck.

That didn't just mean that I was getting a ride down the long, desolate, and treacherous road (it was a half mile, with houses every 100 ft), but I GOT TO RIDE IN THE BACK OF THE TRUCK! That, right there... shows love. 

How did I repay this love?

 I made fun of my Father while he was sleeping, wellofcourse! Is that not what any loving, admiring, young child does?



In my defense... he really does snore quite loudly.

My siblings and I also made sure to ruin any of his social interactions.

Haha... I still sing it incorrectly.



Like my Mother, my Father taught me many wonderful things. Some things I learned were to work hard, be supportive, and how it is important to express love. More importantly though, I learned how to shoot peas from my nose.

I'm about to get a bit serious up in here. Just for a little bit. Deal with it.

One of the fondest memories I have with my father are of him reading to me. It didn't happen a ton, but I sure loved it. He would most often read to me from a book called "Voyage of the Basset" by James C. Christensen. The illustration is absolutely beautiful. I believe my desire to study art originated from the fondness I have for that book, and my Dad's own drawings. For that, Dad, I thank you.

I didn't always have a great relationship with my Dad. In fact, in high school, my attitude towards my dad was downright malicious. I took for granted all the things he had done, and all the ways he had provided for me. Unfortunately, I didn't realize this until leaving for college.

My Dad was the one to drop me off at the airport. We hugged and said our goodbyes.

While waiting on the plane, I started to feel a little sad. I'm pretty sure that my future self came back, and punched me in the face...

...'Cause it suddenly hit me why I was sad.

I am very blessed to have such awesome parents. Thanks for all you've done Daddy. I hope you're having a fantastic day!