“Tee Tee, why is her hair like that?” says The Banshee.

“Well, I just like it, I guess.”

“Oh.” She stares at the girl I drew, then says, “Yeah. I do, too.”

“Really? Well, that’s good.”

Several seconds pass before she speaks again.

“I think her name is Butternut.”

“Oh? Okay.”

She runs her hand over the paper and stares at Butternut for a long time.

Okay. Another Hopeless Incognito girl based on Marie Antoinette. Uhm, obviously, I hope.

Actually, I’m showing you what I consider a screw-up. This is old, from several months ago. The blue background didn’t scan so well, which is probably just as well, because the blue paint didn’t take — I must have spilled some glaze or something next to the right arm there, so it’s just white. Uhm, I’m also not pleased with her dress — it’s collaged with papers and tissue and, eh, didn’t turn out the way I wanted. But, I have to say the whole tied-on fake mole thing pleases me because I find it so ridiculous. And I’m happy with her hair. I’ll think I’ll do more of these little “Antoines.” (Her nickname.) I think I can do better.

Still, here she is. Even though, shhhh, can’t see her, especially with that mole:

My scanner was broken.

I now have a new one.

Beware.

I’d forgotten I’d drawn and scanned this a few months ago. I think I was mostly interested in creating the dress and then it sprouted a head and then it sprouted an olive branch and before I knew it, I had some poor big-headed girl basically apologizing for her very existence.

I feel ya, big head.

(Also: I don’t know where that dress came from, but it suits you somehow.)

I feel you, dawg.

Hark the beanie angels sing
“Glory to the newborn King!
Peace on earth and mercy mild
God and sinners reconciled”
Joyful, all ye nations rise
Join the triumph of the skies
With the angelic host proclaim:
“Christ is born in Bethlehem”
Hark! The beanie angels sing
“Glory to the newborn King!”

Try those lyrics out at church this year.

C’mon. S’fun.

S’not blasphemous.

This is Beatrice, the second of The Letter Sisters. In naming her Beatrice, I decided to make Scrumptious Jayne’s adorable but erroneous-at-the-time assumption that “Letter Sisters” meant “letters of the alphabet” somewhat true now. There are no letters of the alphabet in the sketches, but I think I’ll name the girls alphabetically. The first sister was Ada and now we have Beatrice. I’m going with more old-fashioned names because I think the girls have an old-fashioned feel to them.

Beatrice, sadly, did not scan all that well. Or the shrunken-down version I’m forced to use on the blog became pixellated in translation. Or I’m a goober. Poor Beatrice.

Each of these sketches is a jumping-off point for things I have in mind for them later — once I’ve, oh, taught myself Photoshop, which I’m getting — installing — downloading — whatever — this weekend. I’ve taught myself a graphics program before, one that is now obsolete, just by flipping through the manual and playing around, so I don’t really have any fear of Photoshop. I completely realize how arrogant and puffed-up that sounds, but please do not say anything to de-poof me or make me a’feared. The few times in my life when I’ve stormed into a situation with blind ignorant confidence it has worked out really well for me. Do not open my eyes in any way, shape, or form. I must sally forth undeterred and undisturbed in my ignorance. It’s really for the best. Thank you.

Oh, and yeah, Beatrice ain’t got no legs either. This was purposeful. I mean, sister Ada is legless, so it didn’t seem right to give Beatrice legs and start a whole sibling leg rivalry or be accused of favoritism or cause the sin of covetousness. I mean, I don’t need my sketches turning into high-maintenance divas. I’m the boss, girls. I decide if and when you get legs. And if you’re not nice, I will give you cankles.

Don’t think I won’t.

(image copyright Tracey/BTP 2008 — do NOT copy)

This is Ada, the first of The Letter Sisters. (Uhm, it scanned huge and I’m sorry and I’m also lazy so it’s not gonna change. I scan various sizes and it’s sometimes hard to find the right size for the blog with each drawing/painting. Oh, boo hoo hoo, Tracey.)

Anyhooey.

Yes, this is Ada, the first of The Letter Sisters. There’s another letter sister in existence right now, but one at a time, ladies, one at a time. You must await your turn on the stage. Wait for your cue. Not sure how many letter sisters there will ultimately be. I just started drawing girls with letters because the whole concept of letters has — well, some interesting and varied meanings in my life. Some good. Some not so good.

Note to Ada:

I am very sorry you have no legs. I have issues. Which is a terrible insensitive self-absorbed rationalization in the face of your double leglessness. But, honestly, I’m afraid that I am obsessed with big heads that take up lots of space — which you have, in case you didn’t notice. If you’re really unaware of that fact, I can hold you up in front of a mirror and you can see what I’ve done to you with that big giant head. But then, if you don’t know about your big giant head, maybe you don’t know that you don’t have legs, either, and it’s best to just let it lie. Let it go. But then, I’d kinda feel like I’m lying to you, Ada, and I’m a very straightforward kind of girl. That’s just the way I roll. On the other hand, I am your creator and just as I find that my Creator doesn’t always engage in full disclosure, perhaps I could take a page from His book and do the same. Although, that might be blasphemous and such and I really don’t want to be smited. Smote. Smoted. Smitten. No, that’s not it. Whatever.

Someday, Ada, through the magic of Photoshop, you will have legs; I promise. That’s the goal here. You’re a kind of template. A work in progress. As are all the girls you hang out with. What you are now, you will not always be because I have plans for you. Double-legged plans. Yes, I do. So, carry on, Ada. Just hang out. Sit tight. I mean, that’s really all you can do, anyway.

Signed,

Me

(image copyright Tracey/BTP 2008 — do NOT copy)

I was out of commission this weekend, but I’m back and I’ve picked a name for Matilda’s platypus friend. I have to say, I was basically cracking up reading your name suggestions because while most of you did disguise your identities, you didn’t disguise your email addresses, and, well, pippa, it was pretty much a dead giveaway for the majority of you. Hahahaha. It was adorable. I loved all the suggestions and I thank everyone who threw a name into the ring here. It was a hard decision — a couple of the names were truly tugging at me. So I took those last few names and did a random drawing to come up with Thee Olde Name. I don’t have a prize to give our winner, just a warm feeling of self-satisfaction and smugness — how’s that sound?

So without further ado …… Matilda’s little friend is ….

“Gumdrop”

“Matilda and Gumdrop”

Ta da. So silly. I love it.

As suggested by iSpy aka Maggie May.

Thank you everyone for indulging in silliness with me and for your awesome suggestions! You’re all good sports. I love that!

This piece was inspired by a “game” I played with The Banshee a few months ago. Basically, we were just sitting there on the sofa and she started talking about her huge wonderful kingdom and how I had to live in her kingdom forever — being that she was queen and all — how I could never leave, and blah, blah, blah, when suddenly, something inside me began to rise up against Queen Banshee’s oppressive regime and I cried out: “Oh! Oh! Uh-oh! Look! I’ve escaped from your kingdom on a flying purple horse!” (This was all verbal. We weren’t moving at all. Just chillin’ on the sofa fighting totalitarianism.) And she screamed: “NOOOOO! NO! NO! You can’t! You caaaaan’t! Okay, well, you’re gonna get lost in the Cherry Forest then! And I will find you and bring you back!!” From there, the saga progressed to epic proportions, but that’s all you need to know for this post, really.

So anyhoo.

That somehow morphed in my head to a little French mail girl named Adela out on her route, getting lost and tired and scared … in the infamous Cherry Forest. I guess it’s more cherry blossom, than cherry, but, oh, well.