Welcome to the creative home of artist and maker Charlotte Lyons.



Someone recently said my blog reads like a fairytale. I thought about that for a long time and decided it kind of should...no one wants to hear about the bummers that interrupt the inspirations. But of course, they exist. Life isn't perfect in our house and certainly not in the studio. Since the daily creative scene rotates on the axis of reality, here is an update on what I'm really doing.

Last Saturday morning, my bride and groom-to-be were sleeping in after a late night arrival for a blissful weekend of wedding planning. The phone rang really early and I jumped to get it so it wouldn't wake them. I recognized caller ID as my mom so responded with a chirpy, Hi, what's up? This is the ..... Police Department. Your mother fell out of bed and hit her head, but was able to use her panic button. An ambulance is on the way and you might want to come over here.

Fast forward to early afternoon at the ER, she's released, okay-ish, nothing broken, but a whopper bump on the head (and nasty black eyes to follow). Shaken up and sore for the next few days, back to baby steps again without much interest in the usual.

Yesterday we played Beauty Shop, Dress-Ups and went out to our favorite spot for lunch. She looked like a fashion plate from the 60's. Big sunglasses, black straw hat and pink lipstick. The day was actually fun- like we'd climbed some kind of jungle gym together, sitting on top, swinging our legs and watching the other kids play tag. Reliving the spill, she said that she was on the floor trying to figure out how she got there. And how to get up. The cat was still up on the bed, perched at the edge, looking down at her. Meowing like crazy. Mom's response to her beloved Sassy: What the hell are you looking at? Get off your poof and call 911!

Laughter is, indeed, the best medicine. We've got plenty of that and by the way, thank heavens for the panic button she wears and the medical alert system. It worked exactly how it's supposed to except that after the police, they called my brother and cousin in Missouri. The ambulance crew head told me to make up a sheet to keep by the door with her name, numbers, weight, allergies and meds. A Grab and Go sheet.... makes sense.
Last night Andy and I went down to the park late, late to watch Maggie play her first softball game with the newly formed company team (advertising). I always loved being on the sidelines of my kids' sports events. Never missed one if I could help it and thought the evening would be like those days when she was a little league kid again. Almost- except that along with James, we were the only spectators on the only bleachers, over by the Visitors (town tavern). In place of warmups and coaching tips, everyone on the opposing team bench was smoking, cussing and admiring each other's tattoos. And whacking the ball out of the park every single at-bat. In the midst of their third or fourth grand slam, the 30-something power hitter stopped on second and hollered at his teammates- I CAAAAAAAN'T RUUUUUUUN!
The 40-something pitcher turned, limped a few steps to pick up another short throw and yelled back- Beats sitting on the couch watching American Idol!
Yeah, it definitely does. And BTW, everyone on the field needs to go straight home and make their own Grab and Go sheets.

paper play for mother's day

bee season