Sloth-Like

WINNING WAY:  One of the things Annabelle did last week was participate in a coloring contest hosted by Seattle artist Ryan Henry Ward. Henry's murals are found all over the greater Seattle area, including a couple where the kids used to go to school.

Henry made a multi-paged PDF coloring book available for free, and people were encouraged to pick one image, color it using any media they chose, and submit it by midnight, Sunday, March 29. 

After flipping through the many pages, Annabelle zeroed in on a sloth holding a trio of crystals and chose that as her page. She used her Prismacolor colored pencils for the sloth, and watercolors for the background. 

I thought she did a terrific job blending the colors of the sloth's coat, and shading the critter and the crystals. I loved how his eyes were different colors. 

Monday night, while watching the jaw-droppingly entertaining "Tiger King," I was scrolling through my email and saw one from Henry announcing the winners. I read one winner was a 15 year old named Annabelle, and thought it most certainly had to be our Annabelle. I hopped onto Henry's Facebook page and watched the video of him sharing the winners, and sure enough, her sloth was there. Neat-o!

If you're on Facebook, you can watch a video of the announcement of the winners here: https://www.facebook.com/watch/?v=205112994126589

As a prize, Annabelle will receive a Henry poster. I think the biggest prize though is a nice new accolade to list on her future resumes and another impressive page for her portfolio. 

CAT FEVER: One thing that is entertaining millions of people during this pandemic is the Netflix series "Tiger King." We binge watched it over three nights. I'm sorry it's over. (Actually, I'm sure it's *not* over. It's so phenomenally popular, there just has to be a sequel.)

CJ will tell you a bit more about it.

Attracting hype as being quarantine's Netflix sensation, the seven-part documentary Tiger King chronicles the decades-long drama surrounding competing Tiger zoos in the southern United States. The two main competitors documented are Joe Exotic, a lion breeder and musician from Oklahoma, and Carole Baskin, another lion breeder and PETA affiliate from Florida. Throughout all seven episodes of the documentary, viewers learn about the start of the conflict, competitions for attention, visitors, and funding, over-the-top threats and acts of violence. and a general sense of tension and chaos. 

Unfortunately, it's difficult to talk about the details of the documentary without really spoiling it. However, there are three things I can safely say: Each episode is crazier than the last. You will never look at or think about tigers the same way again, and most of the interviewees are terrible people. 

It's just an utterly fascinating watch, and I highly recommend it.

PROMPTLY:  On Monday afternoon, Annabelle had her first online writing workshop. It's offered by Clarion West, a non-profit literary organization.

The description for her Monday class was as follows: "These weekly sessions are for writers who want to build a regular writing practice or find creative inspiration for generating new stories. Each session you’ll get a set of writing prompts based on The Picture Game. The first exercise we’ll do together and share the results (IF you want to). The rest are yours to do between sessions. All the exercises are designed to allow you to play around with craft and character and setting while planting story seeds in your brain. Even if you already have stories or novels in progress, you can use these exercises to kick your brain into creative gear without pressure and get into the habit of practicing regularly. In partnership with Writing the Other."

This picture was one of the prompts for the group. Below it is what Annabelle wrote in response. She says writers were encouraged to focus on using two senses, but not sight.

The rain hits my skin in a pitter-patter rhythm. One-two, one-two, one-two, on and on. The muttering of the people and the distant buzz of traffic provides a complex bass line, murmuring underneath the sounds of the city in my ears. My hair, clothes, and shoes are all soaked – I don’t mind, I remind myself, stepping out into the street. My feet splash against the puddles beneath me, tossing chilled rainwater up onto my legs as I walk backwards into the soothing drip-drop, pitter-patter, plink-plink feeling of the weather surrounding me. I pay no mind to the way the people around me hiss under their breath, scoff as I stumble backwards in a teetering dance of pure emotion. The footsteps of folks running underneath business awnings, opening umbrellas, swearing at their lack of jacket, fills the symphony with a entropic, chaotic swing of improvised lyrical accompaniment, each voice lending itself to the bigger picture. I tilt my head to the sky, allowing that same rain to hit my closed eyelashes and drip down the sides of my cheeks. The song of the city is beautiful, if you truly understand how to appreciate it.