Eryn Mathis was one of the people who reported to The Box every Monday through Friday. She spent her days craning her neck toward presentation slides and sitting through strategy meetings where her opinions were frequently requested and routinely ignored. Her boss, CeCe, hadn’t always been like that. Before her promotion, she’d been one of the good ones. She advocated for work-life balance and remembered that her team consisted of actual human beings. Then she got promoted. The running office conspiracy theory was that the promotion had come bundled with a shiny new lobotomy.

Now everything was an emergency. Keeping up meant dropping everything to execute whatever whiz-bang shower thought CeCe’s boss had dreamed up at the eleventh hour. Of course, it never made sense. It derailed the team, was always a clustermuck, and somehow CeCe made sure Eryn carried the brunt of the chaos. Lately, Eryn had been doing the work of three people. She was exhausted, angry, and running on little more than caffeine and spite. Every request for help was met with one of CeCe’s empty promises that things would get better after the next deadline.

Spoiler alert: they never did.

To no one’s surprise, Eryn’s proverbial cup eventually ran bone dry. Instead of refilling it with the can-do attitude she’d started with at The Box, she filled it with unmasked eye rolls and visible rage. During a launch meeting for a half-baked “Empowering Future Leaders” program, she finally said exactly what she thought. Live. On a recorded meeting. And, of course, in front of CeCe’s boss. Needless to say, the launch did not go as planned and by that afternoon, Eryn was carrying a cardboard box to her car and driving home from her first “real” job for the last time. Whether she was ready for it or not, she was about to get a fresh start.

First came internal loathing and the “what-if” self talk, then anger and then eventually acceptance. After all, Eryn had spent the better part of three years feeling sick to her stomach every Sunday night in anticipation of the week ahead. She knew that The Box might have been a great place to work for some, but it hadn’t been a great place for her.

Through all of this emotional growth and revelation Eryn was caught in what felt like an endless cycle of interviews, each one leaving her more deflated than the last. Not because the opportunities were terrible, but because she understood the language now. She knew that a “fast-paced environment” meant chaos. “Wearing many hats” meant being understaffed. “Growth opportunity” usually meant someone else had already quit. Halfway through one particularly painful interview, Eryn found herself listening to a hiring manager spend twenty straight minutes talking about herself. CeCe 2.0.

“I don’t want to start all over just to end up here again,” Eryn thought. As if the universe had decided she’d suffered enough, her phone buzzed inside her blazer pocket. Normally, she would’ve ignored it, but CeCe 2.0 was long-winded, and Eryn had officially stopped caring.

BIG NEWS!
You have a job here if you want it 😘

The message was from Adrian, Eryn’s work bestie who had escaped The Box seven months earlier for a startup and had spent most of that time trying to recruit Eryn. Apparently, she’d finally succeeded, and for the first time in the last three years, Eryn felt herself relax. She didn’t know what the job was yet, but she knew two things: Adrian worked there and that rent was due in two weeks. That was enough.

The next day, the two met for lunch, and by the time the check arrived, Eryn was on the phone accepting a position as Director of Communications. Impressive.

Even though an offer letter was waiting in her inbox before she got home, she knew full well this wasn’t her dream job, and it wasn’t even a daydream job. But it was a paycheck, and right now, that mattered more. Unfortunately, while the title sounded impressive, the salary was not and it came with one immediate problem.

Eryn’s downtown apartment had to go.

With only two weeks until the start of the month, Eryn was in full-on scramble mode, she managed to somehow find a friend of a friend of a friend’s recent college graduate who wanted to sublease her apartment and the timing worked for them. Hooray! The arrangement left her with a little cash in hand and she assumed finding a cheaper place would be easy but with less than a week left for her housing search, Eryn realized she was going to need to widen the search beyond the comforts of downtown.

With a new search filter added, there it was.

“Hmm. Walden? Let’s see what you’ve got for me,” she mumbled to herself.

The other dormer was regularly occupied by Henry’s little sister Violet, his little shadow, she was half his age and had twice the mischief; they had a special bond and they both adored each other’s company.

Violet often sat in her window on a creaky bench and sketched fantastical creatures in a beat-up sketchbook, she read book after book (sometimes the same ones two or three times) to escape to wild worlds outside of the real and painful one she lived in, and she spent hours watching the wind tickle the leaves of the old Southern Magnolia tree in front of the house. Violet often said that there was something magical about the tree and that it whispered to her; no one paid much attention to statements like that; after all, she was just a kid with a big imagination and that seemed to run in the family.

Violet’s imagination was a blessing, especially since kids her age didn’t seem to want to play with her much anymore, she had always had trouble with headaches and got sick easily. She started feeling stiff all the time and eventually she told her parents that there were spiders crawling in her fingers and toes, tickling her from the inside. While Violet always had a way with words, the frequency and peculiarity of these most recent mentions made her Mother worry. This was the start of a string of countless hospital visits.

One of the last times she came home from one of her “medical vacations,” as she liked to call them, she and Henry were in the attic, building a world, she sketched it out while he dipped his fountain pen and wrote it down. Dust motes danced in the streaming sunlight and the two of them worked side by side at Henry’s battered oak table.

“We have to capture it all, every wonder we can think of, before it slips away,” Violet pleaded as she thumped a thick blank sketchbook on Henry’s desk. The spiders were tickling more and more, some days were better than others but on the worst ones, Violet would get so stiff she couldn’t move her legs. She worried that soon, she’d be stuck as an observer to life, rather than an explorer.

Henry’s eyes carried the weight of things he hadn’t said aloud to her yet, because Violet’s worry was something he carried too, “Every last one, I’ll write it all down, V.”

And so he wrote down all her stories. All the odd places and things that the tree whispered to her, all of the interesting folks and animals she made up in her head. Henry wrote as quickly as he could to capture it all in perfect detail.

In the margins of Henry’s writing, Violet sketched creatures that had never been seen by anyone but her: small winged foxes with fur the color of twilight, ancient trees that whispered knock-knock jokes when you leaned your ear against their knots, flowers that changed their hue depending on what song you hummed at them. Henry recorded landscapes of impossible mountains, rivers that wound like silver ribbons across purple plains, and villages that glowed with a light you couldn’t put into words. Together, their work became a world that felt impossibly alive.

On the first page of the sketchbook that would become her living memories and fairytales, Violet signed her name in neat, confident letters. Henry watched her and thought to himself, “It would be worth a journey to see this world.”

And in a way, it already had been. Together they came up with a name for their book and called it A Catalogue of Remarkable Wonders.

It was a collection of Violet’s imaginary pets and friends, an index of her make-believe, a book meant to hold magic so tangible you could feel it in your bones. They both knew Violet had a lot to say, but before either of them was ready, she would no longer be there to help turn the pages and help write these fantastical places down.

So, for now, the attic buzzed with vibrant energy. Ideas and made-up places bounced across the pages like a suncatcher throwing prisms across the floor. In those moments, the world they built was whole and wild, just waiting for anyone brave enough to step inside.

A few months passed, and eventually the Elmwoods’ stopped sending Violet on her “medical vacations,” focusing more on making sure Violet was comfortable and as happy as possible. They also moved her bed to the attic so she could watch the Magnolia tree and be closer to Henry while he typed newspaper articles at his desk. Every day, Henry and Violet added to their book. She promised Henry she would stick around as long as the Magnolia tree had flowers blooming; selfishly she wanted him to finish writing down all of her stories.

“You’re not going anywhere, Violet. Don’t be dramatic,” he said with an empty smile, though he knew they would both be lucky if she could somehow stick around through the season.

The last flower fell from the old Southern Magnolia a few weeks after Violet left this world. Their father, Papa Elmwood, and Henry cut down the tree a few days later; neither of them could bear the sight of its naked branches anymore.

Eventually, life went on without Violet, though it lacked the sparkle and magic she brought to it. Henry officially moved to Walden proper and wrote for paper, making a pretty big name for himself. Mama and Papa Elmwood stayed at the farmhouse, not wanting to sell it, Henry always thought that it was their way of keeping Violet around.

After many years and even some happy memories later, Mama and Papa Elmwood eventually passed peacefully. First Mama went, then Papa a few years later. Their deaths forced Henry to come home to the farmhouse one last time.

As the last surviving Elmwood, Henry spent a final weekend at the farmhouse, he went through the last of the drawers, closets, and little tucked-away spaces. It broke his heart to do it, but he sold the farmhouse to a lovely couple who were excited to start their own little life there.

A big box of little reminders started to fill up as Henry moved about the house, when he finally got to the attic, he almost couldn’t climb the stairs. He didn’t want to be in the room where her magic went to sleep forever.

He started to turn away and leave the attic alone, but as he turned and headed down the stairs, a faint whisper tickled his ear. When he turned to acknowledge it, a trick of the light danced on the other side of the door and caught his attention. Henry knew he was alone in the house, but something felt as though she was asking him to come in and say goodbye, for real this time. He knew he’d kick himself later if he turned over the keys to his childhood home without going up there even though he felt like those few steps to the door were miles away. His heart felt heavy and he stood there for what felt like an eternity, but eventually one foot took a step and the other followed.

When Henry opened the door, the sun poured in through the twin dormers. There, in one, was her little bed, and in the other, his desk. Sitting on top of the beaten oak desk, wrapped in years of dust and its cover bleached by the sun, was the book they had written together before it all slipped away. Henry stood in the doorway for a little while before he closed the distance between this version of himself and the one that wrote that book.

A Catalogue of Remarkable Wonders

He opened the book and ran a finger over Violet’s signature. He thumbed through the pages, equal parts laughing and crying, until he reached the last finished page. Henry scooped up the dusty tome and brought it home to his new life where he sat at a more grown-up desk, in a more comfortable chair, and with a subjectively better typewriter and pen. The book sat on the bookshelf where he took time to notice it often, until time stretched and the book became just another book on the shelf. Of course it was special still and it was Henry’s prize possession, it just didn’t get the same attention it once did.

Years passed and Henry continued to write for the paper, live his simple life and enjoy each day as much as he could. By now, grey was settling into the hair above Henry’s ears and little lines around his eyes started to show. He hadn’t planned to do it, but one rainy afternoon, Henry found himself writing in the book, picking up where Violet and he had left off all those years ago. He wrote more of their silly stories, jokes, and magical encounters in her catalogue for years, until their final story was recorded. There were still a good number of pages left to fill, but that would come later.

Along the way, Henry retired his column in the newspaper and opened a bookstore. His Parkinson’s made it too hard to write with a steady hand, but dammit, if his eyes weren’t sharp. He surrounded himself with a collection of “very good books,” as he liked to call them, as Violet once called them. Little pocket worlds that he could slip in and out of, lots of little worlds that Violet would have loved to visit.

During these easy going twilight years Henry’s bookstore, Very Good Books, was peaceful and boring, in the best way possible. If he forgot where he placed a book, he just started reading a new one. Not a lot of foot traffic came into the shop, maybe a few souls here and there who really needed something good to read, but overall, peaceful and boring.

Every day, that is, until a young woman who was still technically new to town, pulled the handle of Very Good Books, and the little bell above the shop door announced her arrival.

The plan is to share a “cozy portal fantasy” with you all that uses a simple magic system and tugs on your heart strings (I’m talking about my character Henry here!) but the truth is, I don’t have it all done yet; the outline, yes, but the actual pages, no. So, you’ll have to bear with me as I navigate being a fantasy fiction writer and share each piece of this story as it is born.

So, what’s it about?

I’m currently calling this story “Project Walden” because I don’t have a better working title for it as a whole, so there’s that. It’s the story of an older female main character named Eryn who is just a loveable loser and fails at her dream job. Her professional failure brings her to Walden where she stumbles upon a bookstore that she later finds to be somewhat magical.

Throughout the journey Eryn will drift between the real world and liminal space via a handwritten tome she gets from the bookshop and eventually Eryn will discover that the world she keeps visiting is falling apart and that she has to figure out how to keep this magical space alive.

I hope that readers that find this story enjoy the color theory and symbolism baked into the characters as well as some of the historical touchpoints I’ve used as inspiration to help set the time and place of this cozy tale.

How to read it!

I plan to share it here, in a serialized format. If I can pull it off, I would also love to develop some character artwork to accompany each piece of the story I publish.

And so, that’s it for now! Let’s see where this goes!

— Rainey Daze (writer!)

Hi 👋 I’m Rainy Daze, welcome to my little Internet Cafe.

Not too long ago, I traded a 6ft x 6ft cubicle at a big, big fancy engineering firm for an espresso machine and its the best thing I’ve ever done for myself.

Corporate life never quite fit. I always felt like the oddball in the office, and after a few years of 12+ hour days, clocking back in for late-night catch-up sessions, working weekends, and a lingering feeling of is this really it? I decided that it, in fact, was not it.

So, I chose to “reverse retire” at 43 instead of waiting for my someday; I stepped away from the illusion of security and into something slower and a little more magical.

Whats on the ‘menu’!

☕ coffee talk
📚 my favorite book yaps
🖊 my creative writing
🎨 bts of my sketchbook stuff
🪲 bts of my bug-inspired tarot deck
🛍 maybe even some thrifting content

This space is kind of like a junk journal, where I document my life for the living of it, not the aesthetic. It’s a place to capture my creative reawakening at 40+, it’s a reminder that it’s never too late to start again.

If you’re here, maybe you’re looking for that too.

♡R

Links & Things!

• Read with me on the Story Graph!

Two weeks ago I made a drastic career shift. I left my 6ft x 6ft cubicle at a fancy engineering firm where I worked 12+ hours a day and traded it in for making lattes and cold foam, here’s what I noticed.

At my old job, I struggled to get to sleep each night, dreading my 4:30 am alarm. I did all the performative routines to get myself ready for the day, though I was in a constant state of exhaustion and constipation. Everyday blended together because I left my house in the dark wee hours and rushed home in the bumper to bumper ones to scrape together some semblance of “life” after my 12+ hour day of looking at a screen.

While in my cage, I mean, cubicle, I pressed buttons on a keyboard and did emails and meetings, sometimes I did just meetings all day, sometimes just emails. My job was to make sure everyone else did their job. So you can imagine how fulfilling that was.

Now though, my feet ache (though that is starting to regulate) and my workday is surprisingly fewer hours. I leave the house at 6:45am so I can brew a cup of coffee for myself and ease into opening the cafe by 7:30am (did I mention my commute is 35 minutes less now too?), while the milk steams, I am planning out new flavor combinations and watching latte art tutorials. All this new form creativity has been a lot of fun to absorb.

The weekend away from work though, wow, I think that’s the most shocking change. Before being a barista, I would stress out on Sunday mid morning and spiral into that clammy space of professional dread. I thought longingly about ‘having more time’ and dreamed about having my brain to myself and not wasting my thinking on a day that hadn’t even started yet.

Now, my hands get dirty from the garden or the studio. My feeling of tired comes from doing real, actual work and the weekend feels like a restful pause between weeks. I do my job, I make the coffee and serve it, then it’s done. The weekend time is now my own and my brain is pulsing with lots of creative ideas and schemes that I cannot wait to dive into.

Leaving my corporate life for this more grounded version of self has been absolutely amazing and I feel like all of the frustrations, frazzles, burnt out vibes I was embracing before wasn’t ‘getting older’ or ‘perimenopause’ it was that I worked a fake job doing work that really didn’t feed me and now, the work I do soothes me. I get the best version of everyone I interact with. I get to be around coffee and smell like vanilla and caramel on my way home from work. I get to use my arms and legs and work my muscles doing a blue collar job that makes be feel like a best friend, a therapist, a help line, a philosopher, an artist… you get the idea. I get to make a cup of joy for everyone that comes to my counter and they leave me smiling. I love that. I absolutely frickin’ love that!

I guess I am writing all of this to say, if you think that working in service or a trade is something that you are interested in, do it!

Leave that cubicle and join me!

You would think that the endorphins would be firing on all cylinders, and they are (ish), but that still doesn’t change the fact that I have three more days to navigate in my corporate role. Granted, I don’t have any new projects, and my work is ramping down, but my heart and my mind are still telling me things like, “stay in bed all day and maybe Monday won’t come,” or “scroll some more, this is a good distraction from tomorrow’s reality.” In both cases, I am the loser.

So, how did I get moving today? Honestly, it was really hard and in full transparency, I did sleep in until 1 pm, but let's blame that on a fun Saturday night of playing D&D and the time change, yeah? But I honestly just forced myself to crawl out from under the safety of my comforter and thrifted granny quilt. I brewed a pour-over coffee, dressed it up with caramel, then sat down at my ‘big screen’, aka my laptop, and got a few things crossed off my list.

Now, I kind of have some momentum behind me, and I am about to jump into doing as many chores as I can so that when Thursday rolls around, and I am officially no longer employed at the corporate cube, I have the mental and emotional freedom to enjoy a day of creativity.

My plan for my long weekend before starting my new gig is, first and foremost, to relax! I've been spinning plates and running on high-stress empty for so long that just having a gentle day or two sounds like such a treat. I want to paint my nails, get a fast-food breakfast, make some coffee and read a book of my choice for at least half of a day.

I want to hit the thrift store, browse the racks, hunt for odd treasures, and bring home something that brings me whimsy.

I want to spend a day in my studio again, just making silly art and preparing for a class project for my Children in Literature course, as well as do some planning alongside Lassie, of ,for our little creative side gig.

I know it sounds simple and maybe even silly, but that’s really all I need to feel like me. I am so excited for this next step because I think I will finally have so much more of myself back.

I know my jump is probably wild to a lot a people, but I can’t help but be curious, how are you feeling on the Sunday before the work week?

So the dream has always been to build the coffee shop, but boy, did I get lucky, because this coffee shop already exists, its closed on the weekends due to its location AND in comparision to my cubicle gig (consisting of 11-hour days) I’ll “feel” like I am only working part-time since my typical work day will soon be just about 8 hours.

At the end of each day, I’ll be out the door early enough to enjoy some sunshine, and with it being just a jump away from home, the commute to work will be shaved down from 40 minutes to just about 6 minutes! Not to mention that it’s equally super close to the art studio, so I see lots of artsy stuff happening in my future (finally!).

I think I am dreaming, right? All of that seems way too good to be true.

Now, I’m not solely looking at this with rose-colored glasses; I know that my feet are going to HURT and that coffee money isn’t exactly the same as mega-corp cubicle money, but life is way too short. Life is meant to be lived, and lately, I feel like my cubicle job has consistently kept me from the best parts of being alive.

For me, this decision comes from a need for a balance that makes more sense to me and, honestly, happiness. That's really the kicker, happiness.

Right now, I feel zapped at the end of each day. I no longer make time for my hobbies, and my days in the studio have longer and longer stretches in between them. That’s just not for me. I am the type who needs a ‘real’ job, doing real things. Helping and serving real people. I need a job that gives me the mental space, away from screens, to be inspired. The next chapter looks so exciting to me. I can’t wait to jump in and start brewing!

I know that my choice to jump ship on a “normal” life may be jarring for some, but if you are ever feeling off about your day-to-day life, consider that the prescripted version of life isn’t the only option.

Find your bliss! Define your version of success! Curate your life! We all know that we only get so many days on this floating rock, please go out and live them to the best of your ability.

The new semester at my local community college started recently, and I am in that phase of life when I’m back in school, learning more about the topics I love. This term, I am taking a class called ‘Literature for Children’, and our big class project is writing and illustrating a children’s book and having it printed/self-published. I’m so excited!

Other exciting news is that the studio is working on a Valentine’s Day charitable/protest project (I’ll share more about that soon!), and we have officially started work on Good Neighbor, our local community-focused zine.

Check out my February Mood board:

Last Month’s Link Round Up:

Bookworm | Fangirling Over Marcus Kliewer

Bookworm | My 2025 Reading Wrap

Handmade Tarot Project | #17 The Star

Studio Stuff | Field Notes from the Studio: Amanita verna

Studio Stuff | Chatting about my favorite watercolor butterfly and daydreaming about making art for fun again

Studio Stuff | Schnailnannigans

Hey, Have You Met My Friend?

Lassie is the author of Hello. From the Lunar Library and a cartoonist in KC. She is also a co-founder of Freehand Collective and a huge inspiration and motivation for me, both personally and for my artsy things! Cheers to one of my best pals, go check out her Substack and subscribe, wouldja!?

Thanks for hanging out with me this month! I’m excited to share what unravels next. Until then, friends, smell ya later!

— R

Sharing a whimsical illustration of a poisonous plant is such a little vibe; I really love the juxtaposition of making this killer appear ‘cute’.

It’s so hard to talk about my art because, I will be totally honest, it isn’t that deep. I just like things and want to draw them. For example, in this case, I really like the colors that I am seeing, and I love nature and all of her little babies, so as I was looking for something to draw one day, I stumbled upon this type of mushroom in a textbook and was inspired to do a quick, field studies-type of drawing of it.

I’m not trying to get philosophical or metaphorical here, I’m just drawing for the sake of fun and practice. When I studied drawing, the person I was learning from was very skilled, and I learned so much about “looking with a different eye,” and while that sounds very weird and ominous, it’s such a game-changer in how I observe objects when I draw. I don't really know how to explain it — it's kind of like looking at the object, but also looking past it too, like imagining the back and side that can’t be seen from the current view. It’s also about imagining how the object would feel and its texture, and incorporating that observation into the drawing. It's definitely a skill that helped me improve my work, but now that I am not drawing for a living, I can just draw a heap of wonky mushrooms. I kind of like that.

Thanks for hanging out with me today. Do you have a favorite mushroom?

— R

When I first got into watercolor about 20 years ago, I found a muse that still inspires me to this day and seems to give me endless resources and references. I just love bugs, guys, I love them. Butterflies, moths, spiders, beetles… all of them are exceptionally beautiful and offer so much to the observer’s eye. I’ve been painting bugs (and their cousins) for so long, and I have yet to find boredom in their form.

This particular butterfly is the Cymothoe beckeri, also known as the Creamy Glider Butterfly. It’s also one of my all-time favorite pieces that I have created over the years. It’s a perfect example of the flow state, and I made it during a time when I was discovering, I wasn’t yet a professional artist and selling work, I was just making art to make it, to learn, to enjoy it and play and let whatever happen, well, happen. I feel like you can see that in this one.

I am actively seeking that feeling, chasing the state of joy, flow, and play. I want my work to regress to this moment again and create a joyful space for me to just create without intention. As a retired commercial artist, art was work for so long that it became grinding and grueling, and it just wasn’t the same. It’s been about 5 or 6 years since I left that space, and now, I’m starting to dip my paintbrush in dirty paint water again, and the feeling is, dare I say it, magical.

If you are trying to get into the biz, please know I am not knocking it; I am just sharing that this way, for me, is so much better. I applaud those who enjoy the grind and who chase the work, and I truly hope that you land that deal, baby! This, however, is my little slice of the internet, where I can reflect on the time I spent doing all that hard work that made me hate making art. This space is my little recovery zone, my soft pillow, my ease back into making art for the sake of joy. I hope you enjoy seeing what I created in my past life and what I uncover about this version of myself along the way.

Thanks for reading! I hope you liked this little guy, this particular piece and moth are one of my favorites.

— R

I discovered Marcus Kliewer via the ‘Available Now’ filter on my ‘TBR’ tag in the Libby App, and oh, what a ride. The book I am talking about is We Used to Live Here. I had just finished There There by Tommy Orange and wanted to dive into something else (because, damn, that book wrecked me).

At first, I wasn't sold on We Used to Live Here. There were parts where I even thought the book was heavily written or edited with AI, but I didn’t give up on it and eventually reached a part of the story written in a completely different style. This is when I realized that Kliewer was writing in a broken, short, punchy sentence structure, which was meant to evoke doubt, confusion, and unease.

I really can't tell you what We Used to Live Here is about because I don't want to give away anything about the story, but it's wild, confusing, makes you question everything that's happening, it’s just really, really damn good.

But this isn't a book review anyway; it’s more of an appreciation post about this author. I opened this post with a copy/paste from his publisher’s author page on the Simon & Schuster site, and it really says it all… This writer, this author, is just like us… writing for the love of writing and sharing those stories in any format that will put eyes on our words. I don't really need to repeat it, but We Used to Live Here was a serialized story on Reddit… damn, if that isn't inspiring, then you just can’t be inspired.

Kliewer’s story really shook me, both his book and his story of getting the book published. It makes me feel like there is a chance to share my own little capsules of creativity with others. Sometimes I feel like I am screaming into the void, with algorithms and feeds fighting against me, while my own busy life snatches up my precious art-making and writing time. However, I guess I just need to remove my focus from that and realize that showing up is all that matters. Giving this little nook of creativity a few minutes each day is all I need to complete the story and eventually post it. It's just a few minutes to draw in my sketchbook and snap a picture of my progress. Just a few minutes to make a list or plan for the sewing project, so I am ready to jump in when I have more time.

I guess I am writing all this just to say: Kliewer struck the match and ignited the flame of possibility again for me. For that, I am so thankful.

If you are a creative, you CAN do it. Kliewer did, and I am sure that there are other, similar stories out there that I am not aware of. So, I suppose this little love letter to the art of making, showing up, and sharing what you’ve got is also me shouting out to anyone reading this — hey, you've got this.

Number seventeen is DONE! I feel like this little baby pink star moth is so whimsygoth, and I absolutely love that for her! I took some liberties with the pattern of the actual moth, pushing them into stars rather than the true, circular shape they are in realit,y and I think it really gave this card a lot of personality.

Here is the actual pink star moth, next to the Rider Waite inspiration for my buggy version.

In the traditional Rider-Waite deck, this card represents balance, renewal, intuition, hope, healing, connection, optimism, calmness, and purpose. There is so much symbolic imagery, too, but that can be said about all of the cards in the Rider Waite deck, really. The water being poured into the lake and the land is balanced, and the five little streams that break off from the water pooling on land represent the five senses, which is why for my stars I went with the five-pointed version. There is also one large star that acts as the north star or the guiding star, as well as a sky filled with stars.

In mine, my moth is still following that guiding star, but instead I incorporated those whimsygoth stars on the wings and threw a few other stars behind my moth to represent the senses and chakras.

I am thrilled with how this one turned out, and for me, my buggy tarot interpretation aligns pretty closely with the traditional one. It’s a pink star moth finding the light of the big north star and just making its little way on its little path. The moth is in tune with her senses, and she knows that whatever is meant for her is already hers. She is following her inner voice and confidence and just keeps gliding in the starlight to where she needs to be.

Some Behind the Scenes of Number Seventeen:

A look at the sketches and planning that went into this card. I take a lot of time to research the cards and their meanings, and try to find a creature that fits that vibe in terms of metaphor or spirituality. Sometimes, I do lean into a bug’s color and pattern or its common name.

A final look at The Star with the other completed cards, as well as a solo view.

Thanks for joining me for the reveal of THE STAR! I hope you liked the added peek into the process on this one. See you next time!

— R

Sharing an inky spread of snails from one of my sketchbooks. For these little guys I used Liquitex Liquid inks in a range of browns and a brown fineliner. This page was a lot of fun to reference and make.

I love using old text books or field guides for reference when I am playing around so that I am not only giving my eyes a break from gazing at a screen but also, I feel like it gives me an opportunity to learn more about the subject, there is something about learning why a creature or plant does what it does that helps me understand their personality or energy, and while it sounds really abstract, it can also help me understand how to illustrate them better.

I fell in love with these little snail studies and then got the itch to add to the pages. I really want to start incorporating journaling into my spreads, similar to what one of my favorite artists, Jo Brown, did in her book, Secrets of a Devon Wood: My Nature Journal. I’d also like to start adding more collage to my work.

While I was digging up the images of these snails, I also remembered that I made stickers of them! These are small, I think measuring 2 inches or less, and are so cute for a journal, calendar, or another sketchbook page. I think that a new spread with new snails may be in my future soon.

Thanks for joining me on a walk through this sketchbook spread.

— R

I admittedly felt like I didn't read enough in 2025, but then I took a look at my StoryGraph and realized that I did a pretty dang good job of keeping my nose in a book. Overall, I read 26 books and DNF’d five titles. Plus, I read a lot of required reading for a Women’s Literature course I took at my local community college. My eyeballs did a lot of work!

My 5 Star Books

Silver in the Wood by Emily Tesh

On Writing: A Memoir to the Craft by Stephen King

Slewfoot by BROM

Razorblade Tears by S.A. Cosby

All Sinners Bleed by S.A. Cosby

Goblins & Greatcoats by Travis Baldree

There, There by Tommy Orange

We Used to Live Here by Marcus Kliewer

Other reads that may not have been 5 stars (for me) but were still enjoyable are pictured above, except for Drowned Country by Emily Tesh and Slow Productivity by Cal Newport, I forgot to copy/paste those covers into my little graphic.

I feel like overall, everything I finished reading in 2025 was a solid 3 stars or better. I have a silly reading rule: if something doesn’t popoff and hook me by chapter 5, I just DNF, because with over 800 titles on my TBR, I don't care to read something I don’t love.

My DNF List

Into the Dark We Go by DG Woods - I really wanted to like this story, but it just didn’t hit for me.

We Need to Talk About Kevin by Lionel Shriver - I couldn't get past the letters/correspondence format, maybe it would be a better audiobook for me?

The Bear and the Nightingale by Katherine Arden - Ugh, I really wanted to like this, but I tried to enjoy this as an audiobook, and it just wasn’t doing it for me. I felt lost a lot and probably would like this one if I gave it a second chance, but in physical form.

Woman, Eating by Clare Kohda - Meh. Just kinda boring.

Tender is the Flesh by Agustina Bazterrica, with Sarah Moses - This book is wild; I want to revisit it, life just got in the way.

Side Note - I also read some career self-help books this year (Let Them by Mel Robbins & Dare to Lead by Brene Brown). Not even linking them, bleh. It was a solid reminder that self-help books written by privileged white women are not for me. But hey, at the time I needed a life jacket at work, so there is that.

The above-mentioned self-help book by Cal Newport, however, was good, had substance, and I feel like I took away a few nuggets from it.

2026 Goals & Must Reads

In 2026, I would like to read at least 26 titles, and as part of my vision board’s Q1 Winning Habit, I plan to read daily for at least one hour. So I think I can make it happen, and maybe even a little extra!

Books that I must, must, must dive into in 2026:

• Brigands & Breadsticks by Travis Baldree

• The Caretaker by Marcus Kliewer

• The Serviceberry: Abundance and Reciprocity in the Natural World by Robin Wall Kimmerer with John Burgoyne (Illustrator)

• Greenteeth by Molly O’Neill

Everything else I subject my eyes to will be at the whim of my Libby ‘available now’ filter on my TBR tag. I’ll keep you posted on how it goes.

Until next time (book)worms!

— R

This introductory share of “Junk Mail” is a collection of all the things that happened in December 2025. Perhaps this will be the format for future posts; maybe it won’t. I’m not entirely sure, but it will be a monthly installment of my blog post in your inbox.

Since this is the first post/email of the year, here is the rundown. I plan to share a Junk Mail with you (on Substack and via email) each month. I will likely share links to all the bits and bobs I’ve shared here over the past month. I don't email all those posts out to folks because I am actively trying to share something from my noggin 2-3 times a week, and that’s just too much for your inbox. I know I would be annoyed with that, so I won’t do that to you.

Things That Happened (last month):

In December, I did A LOT! I made believe that I was the artist-in-residence of a magical studio getaway, and while technically I was enjoying an extended holiday from my office job, I wasn’t anywhere exotic. Just hanging out in my studio; drawing, making, writing

I shared the start of my handmade tarot card project and even created two new cards during my staycation artist/writer residency that I will be revealing later this month.

I’m getting back into sketchbooking regularly (hopefully one day it’s daily!) and shared my thoughts and goals in this post: This $H!T is Bananas

I shared the beginnings of Project Walden, a cozy portal fantasy storybook. On the Winter Solstice, I set my intentions for the year ahead, and even time-traveled to 2004 when I first met the type of quirky gal I have forever been aspiring to be, minus the male co-dependency, of course!

Thanks for hanging out with me this month! I’m excited to share what unravels next. Until then, friends, smell ya later!

— R

This card was a lot of fun to put together and presented a challenge, which is something I always enjoy figuring out when working on a creative project. I wanted the wings on this Queen Bee to be transparent, and I went through various concepts before landing on printing them on acetate. I'm really happy with how they turned out, and I am so glad that I played with the design and execution a few times, because the clear acetate gives the wings the look I was hoping to achieve.

I know that when this card is scanned for usable deck making later on, some of that “wow” will get lost in the process, but for the original version, it makes me happy.

Traditionally, the Rider-Waite version of this card depicts a winged angel pouring liquid between two cups, representing the flow and alchemy of life. The Rider-Waite card also features a glowing crow, which I also incorporated, to represent taking the high road and staying true to oneself. There are, of course, other elements that I chose not to include in my version, but overall, I feel that my version gets the job done.

For less structured readers, like me, you can look at the Queen Bee as that same winged figure, and while there aren't two cups passing water back and forth, I think the concept of shimmering, slow-moving honey says a similar message.

I think that my version of this card says a lot of the same things that the traditional Rider-Waite tarot says, my version shouts out — hey, slow down, find your flow, let the honey move as slow as it needs to. I think it also says that you are the Queen of your domain and that if you can tap into that flow state, nothing can stop you.

Thank you for joining me here again! I plan to start working on THE STAR next and cannot wait to share it with you soon!

— R

Now, before I dive into this love letter to the Manic Pixie Dream Girl, I think that you may need some context on who you’re dealing with. In this time travel post, remember it’s 2004, I am 22 years old and have only existed outside the shackles of my ultra conservative, aggressively religious, prison-level lockdown strict, ‘because I said so’ childhood home for about three years. Everything is new, everything is magical.

Clem and Sam showed me the path to weirdness, then came Kat (Julia Stiles) from 10 Things I Hate About You. Kat showed me that you can also take no shit, which was a concept that escaped me. Saying ‘no’ or ‘talking back’ when something didn’t sit right was never an option in my home, so consider the elation that washed over me when I rented 10 Things, probably from Blockbuster if they were still around, and saw a gal who was in complete control of her destiny. She knew what she wanted, and she didn’t waver.

Then came Ramona. Now I have to admit, it’s been since 2010 that I saw Scott Pilgrim vs the World, so my Ramona memories are not as crisp as those from my formative tangle with freedom. Upon a quick search, it’s confirmed that she is an MPDG (Manic Pixie Dream Girl), but that there is a sprinkle of more to her. While I don’t remember the movie very well, I do recall Ramona and thinking, ‘ Yeah, I dig her vibe and her style. ‘ I think that — as shallow as it is — her style was exactly what I connected with, or maybe wanted to connect with, since I personally didn’t really dress like Ramona, but I wanted to.

The point I’m making with this post is that, while these characters were indeed created to help propel the storyline of a male character, for a little 20-something girl from a dysfunctional home and childhood, I really connected with the concept of possibility through them.

These characters were bold, unique and different. They were ‘quirky’ and had cool hair and/or cool clothes, and mainly carried a vibe that was ungovernable, which was something my little pre-fully-developed frontal lobe was starving for. They showed me that the type of gal I wanted to be was out there, sort of… I didn’t know what being a feminist officially meant, yet, so give me a break on that piece of it all. Still, I knew I identified with these characters on an aesthetic and, to some extent, a behavioral level.

The constant book reading or sketchbooking, the funky attire and hair, the brooding and sometimes moody disposition. I found myself in an awkward place, trying to figure out who I was in a time when I was newly on my own and had never been allowed to be anything other than what my family deemed acceptable. For me, the MPDG was truly a dream, until it wasn’t; then it became a possibility.

So, for that alone, let’s give the MPDG a little bit of a break, granted that I don’t love the fact that the sole purpose is for a male character. Still, if you can remove that from the MPDG archetype and just look at the few dimensions of her that we do get, she is actually a pretty cool gal who would be a great friend and a blast to thrift with. She would tell you that you have food in your teeth, she’d let you borrow her favorite boots, and she’d introduce you to some great books and records.

So, let’s let her be that version, and that version alone.

Thanks for time-traveling with me in this one.

— R

Be Gentle

What does that mean exactly?

It means that I am allowed to enjoy living a slower-paced life. That I don’t need to ‘keep up’ with anyone or any trend, and that I can just exist and wallow in the joys of living a simple life.

This Season I Want

• To embrace rest, recovery and my sense of self-expression. By saying no to things that do not serve me, whether that’s a social invitation or a family dinner, if I am feeling run-down or tired, I need to say no and find rest instead. I want to be the weird one, the kooky aunt, the eclectic friend, and I am tired of holding back on myself. I want to confidently be me and say what I want/need/feel/think.

• To allow things to take the time they take. I am a low-energy person, and with each passing year, I grow closer to accepting that it is okay for me to take my time. Nothing is truly urgent; all the deadlines are made up, and I do not have to subscribe to that philosophy.

• Read more, and for fun. I am very close to canceling and deleting all of my streaming services and being more intentional with time spent in front of the “big screen.” I want to enjoy relaxation in a more intentional way, and books are such a great medium for escaping the world we live in. I would love to read or listen to 100 books a year, and while I don’t think that’s possible for me, I do think that cutting out time spent watching junk could give me a few more hours to spend exploring a world I love each week.

• Revert to a more tangible, or analog, life. I want to collect DVDs again, learn to make bread the old-fashioned way (yes, I still love my breadmaker, but you know what I mean), and get lost and discover things. I am tired of being consumed by the little screen, and I am making a conscious effort not to use it, or to at very least limit how I use it.

• Fill a sketchbook. Simply put, I want to fill up at least one sketchbook this winter. I dont want to follow a prompt list or try the newest trendy art challenge. I just want to doodle and take notes in a little sketchbook. I dont want it to be for making a profit or anything like that, I just want to find a groove and make art for fun.

Romanticize the mundane at home. I want to find joy in the chores I hate doing and keep putting off. The Thanksgiving holiday taught me that putting off all that stuff just makes it harder when you have to allow 13 people into your house for a meal. I want to find little ways to make the housework more magical so that my home feels like a little sanctuary every day of the year.

My intentions for the coming season are built on being cozy and finding joy within, on celebrating the ordinary and embracing self-expression. I plan to utilize this space more frequently in 2026 as I make an active effort to distance myself from social media. While I do understand that, yes, this is also a semi-social space, it feels a lot more like the blogging platforms of the 2000s, and that’s what my current obsession is — getting back to that vibe and energy and enjoying the process of writing long-form jibberish about my day and life and the things that inspire, infuriate and surround me.

If this resonates with you, too, then let’s be friends here and enjoy the spoils of being weird together!

Thanks for reading!

— R

One of my favorite moths is the superstar for the twenty-first card in the deck. I decided an Atlas moth was a good fit for The World because of the obvious play on the physical world, which is literal geography, and this beautiful moth has a name that coincides with a map or an atlas.

It helps that the traditional Rider-Wait card reflects on travel, but also touches on completion, achievement and new beginnings. I feel that the stages of life for a moth or butterfly are also quite fitting for this celebratory, transformative card.

For my die-hard card readers, this card is all about the completion of a natural cycle and the guidance that one phase provides for the next. For those who are a little less structured, I always see this card as a guide to help us navigate through the geography of it all, no matter what lies ahead. Since moths love light, I like to think of the atlas moth as my guide, whether that be physically moving me through a space or emotionally/mentally helping me sort things out. This moth is the light at the end of the tunnel, the navigator of the phase ahead.

Thanks for joining me on this one! What is your favorite card in the Major Arcana? I would love to know, as I’m working on these cards in no particular order and totally open to queuing up any card for the next reveal!

— R

Did you know that cockroaches are just unkillable tiny dinosaurs? While that's a slight exaggeration, it's somewhat true because these nasty things first appeared during the Late Jurassic period, and over time, they haven't evolved much and are known as one of, if not the most, primitive insects.

If you missed my first Handmade Tarot Card project installment, then let me explain: these cards are all handmade by me. I do use the traditional Rider-Waite deck as inspiration, but I have obviously shifted things a bit and am using buggos as my primary theme here.

The traditional Rider-Waite version of Judgment shows a group of folks emerging from their graves, being called upon by an angel and awaiting their judgment to determine their worthiness to enter “heaven”.

In my version, we have the cockroach, because, I mean… If you’ve got roaches in your house, you're getting judged. I picked the poor roach for Judgment because it has literally been here for ages, and while it hasn't evolved much, it does know how to do one thing… endure. Roaches can survive in Arctic temperatures as well as tropical ones, and they are just unkillable. A pest that always seems to resurrect itself, no matter how much bug spray and kitchen cleaning you manage to do.

If you are a little more casual of a tarot card reader like me, think about the poor roach and how it’s perceived, a kind of magical and inspiring quality, right? What I am saying is, think about it, around for MILLIONS of years, and people just hate them, but they keep going, and I have to say, that’s kind of how judgment is right, whether you deserve to be judged or not, you just kind of have to keep going and move past it so you can be your best self. While cockroaches haven't evolved much, they are doing something right because they are still here, and they don’t let anything stop them or get in their way. They know how to roach and roach it right.

Thanks for hanging out with me! What Major Arcana card should I work on next?

— R