Every lovely blog I see catches my attention with a photo of coffee, especially iced coffee. There's something thoroughly modern, yet connected-to-generations-past about coffee. Who can resist watching milk and coffee dance in an antiquely contemporary mason jar? And when I didn't drink coffee, I enjoyed the smell and wished I could wrap my hands in fingerless gloves around a warm mug and pull it close for inspiration, even if just to look the part.
I've come to the conclusion that all great blogs begin with coffee and all bloggers live on it. I haven't done a scientific study, but anecdotal evidence would, I'm sure, prove me right. So I've decided that if I want to be successful, I'm going to follow this formula and begin this blog which is inspired by my mid-life creative "crisis" in this universal way, because it was at this point in life I discovered coffee as well.
Most creative people will tell you they've been drawing, crafting, painting, building, designing and dreaming since they were a child. Not me. I began doing all these things in my late 40s. And I'll go ahead and cast blame, unfairly though it may be, on my first grade art teacher.
I have a vivid memory of coloring pages of a house being returned to all the students in my first grade classroom. When the art teacher reached me, she said, "You didn't color it right. All the coloring is supposed to go the same direction." I had moved my green crayon horizontally for the grass and colored brown vertically on the house. Apparently, this was incorrect. (Why do so many elementary art teachers try to make art right or wrong?) Not only did she tell me about my error, she pointed out the students who had done things correctly and hung their art work on the bulletin board. From that moment on, I believed I could not do art and only attempted things that were required, such as drawing a cell in biology class.
Fast forward to the year-eve of my 50th birthday. The year leading up to that momumentous milestone became the year that time felt like it was running out. Not physically, but metaphorically. It was time to do everything I had always wanted to do. Learn Spanish, write, get a kayak, adventure and learn. And somehow, that first grader raised her hand and said, "I want to be an artist." Excuse me? Was that my voice I just heard? Yes, apparently it was.
Since then, I've felt almost overwhelmed at times with the need to be doing something creative, making up for those 40-something lost years. The urge to try every medium and make everything on Pinterest has made me a regular at craft stores and my Amazon wish list is filled with paints, brushes, and supplies.
So now, facing year 51, I often start my weekends watching my cafe con leche mix and swirl while enjoying the morning on my deck, paints, beads, sketch pads, or yarns on the table with my beverage. We'll see what this weekend, year, second act of life finds me. But if I'm to be a blogger, it will always find me with coffee.