Acrylics on bristol paper

Pancakes for my best friend’s birthday. She makes such incredible pancakes that she earned the trail name Pancakes when she hiked the 2650 mile long Pacific Crest Trail. She’s an absolute badass mountaineer, baker, crocheter, artist, and human, and she has a fantastic hiking blog that everyone should read.

Bonus: the most perfect cat in the world scoping out my paint water (don’t worry, she didn’t drink any).

Hope you’re having a lovely day and creating and enjoying. Cheers, R.

$3 Stickers / Prints

http://racheladmas.com

Made with acrylics as led by Bob Ross

It snowed like crazy this winter in Seattle, which is super uncommon, so of course snow plows were few and far between on most streets. We were stuck at home and in between shoveling our sidewalk and adding more wood to the fire, we decided what better snow day (week? month?) activity than to paint along with Bob Ross to an episode called “Perfect Winter Day.” The roommates and I gathered around in the living room, got our paints out, and followed along. It was a blast. Highly recommend Bob Ross-ing if you want something fun and goofy to entertain – it’s super easy to follow (assuming you have the pause button ready) and all of our paintings turned out a lot better than we expected.

Crow in the snow, where do you go to find something you can eat?

Obligatory crow in the snow shot from the same winter. I feed crows and Stellar’s Jays out of my window sill, and they were very appreciative in the cold. Normally his beak was covered in frost, but I figured I’d share one of his more glamorous shots.

http://racheladmas.com

Acrylics on a giant piece of wood + scraps from some of my favorite poems by him

Of course, there were a lot of good people sleeping in the streets. They weren’t fools, they just didn’t fit into the needed machinery of the moment.

Pulp, Charles Bukowski, 1994

Nothing better than Charles Bukowski to help get you through some years of angst and inner turmoil.

Since this blog has absolutely zero shame, I present an excerpt from the angsty diary of 14 year old me, who copied down loads of his poems because hey someone else’s brain sucked, too, and it felt good to make his words come out of my hands. And ya know, at that age NO ONE COULD POSSIBLY UNDERSTAND ME AND MY FEELINGS, MAN.

14-year-old-Rachel and anyone reading this who might struggling, it gets better. Make your art and listen to your music and talk to humans you love. And please give me a shout if you need someone to talk to – I’m here.

http://racheladmas.com