There’s an article about how I started writing books in the August issue of Where Women Create Magazine that has this → in it; lately I’m getting mail asking how this card came to be, so I thought it would be a good thing to write about.
♥ ♥ ♥
When I was writing my first book, I had no idea what I was doing. I didn’t really expect it to get published; I hoped, but didn’t expect because of the not knowing what I was doing and the fact that book writers I knew about, and me, seemed to have so little in common. They were geniuses and I was just a sad girl (brokenhearted from divorce) alone in a house. But you can tell by this card, I really wanted to write a book and “create future.”
Once I decided to really try, I got so excited about the pages I was painting, it became my dawn-til-dusk obsession. I woke up early, flipped on the TV in the still-dark house, started the water boiling for tea, fed the kitties, and went directly to the watercolors, eager to put onto paper what I’d dreamed the night before. I began to ignore all other aspects of my life. I forgot to get out of my jammies. I opened the fridge and whatever food was there, I ate it, standing up, in refrigerator-bulb light, wiping chicken-leg grease off my hands quickly before racing back to the dining room table (subbing for art table) where my entire life was focused. I could get away with this because I lived alone in my little house; I had recently moved to Martha’s Vineyard from California and didn’t know anyone. So, I was safe from someone coming by who might judge me because my hair was glued to my head from not being washed. I had made up a little fable, about me, and butterfly wings. That creativity was coming to me at night, and it could be washed off in the shower, the magic disappearing like what happens if you take off the powder on a butterfly’s wings. So, yes, I was on the verge of being a disgustingly dirty butterfly.
I kept talking to myself saying where’s the balance, and then went right on being obsessed. Although I was loving the painting, I felt guilty about being so ridiculous about it. I knew what I should do, I was just forgetting to do it and it was making me weary.
So I painted this card to keep myself on the straight and narrow (you can tell it was a long time ago; it was originally on white paper!). I propped it up on my art table and read it every morning. It was a big help to keep me focused. It was my first How to be Happy list, but not the last. My diaries are peppered with them. Later on, I made a “focus card” especially for each book I was doing. Things got much better; I took bubble baths, went for long walks down to the water every day, took my vitamins, and remembered to try to channel the true-heart of Mark Twain. ♥
I took my How to be Happy list out of my diaries and out of the house for the first time when I put one of them in my 1999 calendar. Life still gets crowded with too many wonderful things to do and I still need to be reminded how important it is to take time to dream. ♥
I look for vases pretty much the same places I look for old quilts. Little ones like this one can be tucked into small spots, bathroom window sills, bedside tables, or cupboard shelves — this turquoise one is on the sideboard in our dining room. A little vase doesn’t require an armful of flowers. Just a couple of blooms from the garden and voila! I’ve done something to make the day better!
This guy lives on the shelf over my kitchen sink. At night he cavorts with the Beatrix Potter people. 
We dug a hole in the backyard to plant a new dogwood tree this spring, and found this bottle in it! Joe brought it in to me. I was so happy. Hello, I said in vase language (which I speak fluently), Welcome back.
Off they go to the bathroom, next to my reading chair, and Joe’s-side-of-the- bed . . .
This is the best spot on earth for a human to put her nose. 
Was making a tray for tea, needed little spot o’ color in the middle . . . it’s just a plain old glass jar with something that grows wild over on the side of the barn. A place for everything and everything in its place. 
Made this rose bouquet for the coffee table. There’s mint in it. So when someone smells a rose, they get a double whammy. Even innocent flower-lovers are my victims. 
My stove has a shelf. It’s my ever-changing seasonal stove-top scene that this little bouquet is the centerpiece of.
This bird vase is one of a pair I rescued years ago at an estate sale, hiding on a top shelf in the dark corner of a pantry. My eye caught the white gleam, and I went, oh yes, come on down. Now they welcome guests at almost every dinner party we have.
Old creamers and sugar bowls make wonderful little vases too. 
I’ve been stalking vases since I was in my early twenties, which means I’ve had plenty of time to pull this together. Was I supposed to look at the tiny one on the bottom shelf with the duck on it and say,
