Altered Book: Fahrenheit 451

The Big Read is an idea sponsored by the Valley’s libraries. Each year a book is chosen and libraries sponsor events to encourage people to read that book. One of the events involves artists–I was one of the artists chosen to alter the book for a display at one of the libraries. This year’s book is Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury.

What makes the book interesting is that the 1953-written book has elements of  current reality–a society obsessed by television and celebrities, a fear of intellectual discussions at social functions, a minority kicking up a fuss about books, which are subsequently banned from libraries, and my favorite, a love of wearing earbuds and being plugged in to programmed music.

In my approach to altering the book, I chose the idea from the final scene of the book, in which people become living books. Readers live in books, so I created a row-house made of books. In the image below, the central house is Fahrenheit 451, surrounded by other book houses.The pages of the central book are stuffed with message tags.

Altered book, Fahrenheit 451. © Quinn McDonald, 2009

Each house represents a genre: mystery, science fiction, art and poetry. Because love of nature was banned in the story, the two houses on the left represent winter and spring, and the two books on the left represent summer and fall.

Altered book detail, left side © Quinn McDonald, 2009

Altered book right-side detail. © Quinn McDonald, 2009

The tags are all quotes about books, all  from famous people. Ray Bradbury’s own quote, “You don’t have to burn books to destory a culture, Just get people to tstop reading them,”  is there, as well as Salman Rushdie’s quote, “A book is a version of the world. If you do not like it, ignore it or offer your own version in return.”

Detail of book tags, © Quinn McDonald, 2009

In the heart of the book (I chose page 98 deliberately, as 98.6 Fahrenheit is the normal temperature of the human body), there are flames on one side and a matchbook on the other. The matchbook has a burning match on the cover, and the inside “matches” are the spines of books that have been banned in the past.

Right side detail, matchbook © Quinn McDonald, 2009

The matchbook itself is surrounded by paper flames that have already consumed the page of the book.

The tags are removable for easy reading, and can be used as bookmarks. I hope the book is displayed in a way that allows people to touch it and play with it.

Banned books as matches, detail of altered book, © Quinn McDonald, 2009

I read the book when I was about 10 and just discovering science fiction. My first big literary shock was discovering that Bradbury had made a mistake, paper bursts into flame at 451 Celsius, not Fahrenheit. Yes, I stuck a piece of paper in the oven to see it burst into flame.

It took me a long while to accept altered books. The thought of ruining a book was overwhelming. But the lure of transforming a book that was scheduled for the shredder into a piece of art won me over.

The satisfaction of planning out a concept and carrying it through was really satisfying. I am honored to have been chosen for this project. And yes, I do custom altered books to honor a special event or person.

–—Quinn McDonald is a life- and certified creativity coach. She teaches people how to write and give presentations. She also teaches people who can’t draw how to keep an art journal.

Living a Wabi-Sabi Life

Wabi-Sabi—Appreciation of the Imperfect and Impermanent
You are looking in a shop window at a beautiful dress. Suddenly, you see the reflection of a young woman behind you, also looking at the dress. She reminds you so much of your younger self– fresh, eager. You smile at the recognition of the wonder of this moment.

That fragile moment of recognition is part of the Japanese concept of Wabi-sabi– the beauty of things impermanent or incomplete. It contains a profound appreciation for things modest and humble. As an

Bonsai and shadow © Quinn McDonald, 2007

aesthetic, it honors things imperfect and unconventional.

A Different Approach to Success and Abundance
Wabi-sabi is the release of control. It avoids beating up the creative soul for not achieving perfection. Recognizing and embracing our imperfections allows room for growth. The only result of demanding perfection is certain failure. Perfection is impossible, and while we live in a culture that loves people who are “passionate” and “give 110%,” we seldom feel passion for our daily lives, and it is impossible to give more than all. Perfection is a cruel boss. It leads to giving up, depression and anger rather than eagerness for growth and improvement.

Living a wabi-sabi life means letting go of the stress of competition, relentless achievement, and replacing them with a willingness to let life find its own pace. It allows for space to trust that opportunities will appear, and a willingness to let the world unfurl without having full control over every activity. It is a life stripped down to what is valuable, rather than randomly acquired. It is not living without, but rather within.

In a wabi-sabi life, you recognize all things are impermanent, imperfect, and incomplete. Once you open the door to imperfection, a creative force rushes into your life, making it possible to risk, to try different solutions, to explore your creativity fully. Which leads to living a creative life–work and business combine to create a full, rich and abundant life.

How to Live a Wabi-Sabi Life
One of the hardest things to do is live in the moment. We are always planning—what to have for dinner, what time to pick up the kids, what to do if that promotion doesn’t come through.

Bittersweet © Quinn McDonald, 2007

We live our lives in the past, reviewing our mistakes, and in the future, planning on contingencies and how to handle what will happen next. The current moment is empty as we rush to control—ourselves, our lives, the lives of our children. We try to control our creativity, what we make, even our intuition.

Certainly planning helps organize our time and leads to action. But when we begin to plan for every possibility, guess at every motive, fill every second of the day with planned activities, meetings and obligations, we exhaust ourselves and our families.

We don’t know what will happen tomorrow. Often we can’t influence the future. What we think of as failure is simply a lack of knowing. You don’t always have to know. And you don’t always have to be in control. Take off that heavy obligation of knowing and controlling and take three deep, slow breaths. Then decide right now. In this moment. To live and grow. And leave perfection behind. And let creativity take root in your life.

–Quinn McDonald is a certified creativity coach. She teaches journal-writing classes, including Wabi-Sabi Journaling and raw-art journaling (c) 2007-9 All rights reserved.

Journal Review: Revolver Bound Books

Ellen Dudley of Revolver Bound Books (watch the video of how it works), was kind enough to send me a journal for review.

The journal itself is a mystery. There are two covers, two sets of pages, and the covers move much like the Jacob’s ladder toy. One set of pages is lined, one set is plain. Because I keep a raw-art- journal and a list of to-do tasks, notes, and phone numbers, it seemed like a good idea.

Revolver cover with instruction band in place.

Using the journal is no mystery. This one has a black cover. The cover is made by Ecological Fibers and feels like sturdy, water-proof plastic. The pages are 100 percent recycled paper. It seems to have two spines, but one is a magnetic flap. That was a surprise for me. More on magnets in a minute. You find the place on the flap/spine that has “Revolver” in silver script, and open the book.

Revolver journal open.

Inside are two paper journals each with 64 pages. Each is stitched on the long side and lies flat when opened. This is a must for me, and I was glad to see it. The paper is smooth and white. Both the lines and unlined are the same weight. The images here show tinges of browns and blues, but that’s a trick of the lighting. All the pages are crisp, bright white.

You can continue to turn the book inside out and create the other cover. But you can also open the book flat and work on both sides.

The journal open with both journal-parts showing.

If you want to work only on one side or another, you can do that by flipping the book over and use just one flat side at a time. I found that to be a delight. When you are taking notes in a meeting, you don’t take up a  lot of table space, and your notes are private.

Both journals are permanently attached to the cover. There are no refills, you start a new journal when you finish one of the journals. You may have to carry two journals at the same time. I do that anyway, so that wouldn’t slow me down.

You can turn the book over to rotate covers. Here is where I ran into a bit of trouble. I’m left-handed and got a bit confused. The way around that is to write on the first pages of each of the journals, distinguishing them and giving an orientation to each book.

Flipping the journal inside out. Note that all pages are bright white, the color shift is due to the camera and lighting, not the journals.

The book flips easily, and stays shut firmly with the magnetic closure. And that brings up the problem for me. Magnets wipe out hotel keys, metro cards, and cause trouble for some iPhones, mine among those. Magnets are not good around old-fashioned floppy disks, thumb drives, and other computer storage devices.

Because I visit clients and carry one bag, I can’t put this journal in my bag along with thumb drives, my iPhone, and a hotel keycard. For journalers who don’t carry hotel keys or metro cards and other pre-paid- and ATM cards and iPhones in a briefcase, there is no problem.

The paper works well with most writing instruments. I wrote on both the lined and unlined sides with a Sharpie pen (no bleed, no mark-through), a fountain pen (no feathering or bleeding), a pencil (no smearing), and a roller ball. The roller ball did not bleed through, but I wouldn’t write on both sides of the page with a roller ball.

On the drawing side, I used the same instruments with the same result. Then I added the drawing inks made by

The silver side of the black covered journal.

Smooch–the brightly colored, thick-bodied decorative inks. They did bleed through. So did the Sharpie permanent marker–not the stick pen, the heavier marker. Neither one leaked onto the third page, however. The marker is a test for the toughest journals–I’ve never tried one that a Sharpie marker won’t soak through.

I also used watercolor pencils and used a travel water-pen with it. The page buckled when wet, and the back side of the paper did remain buckled after the drawing dried. Again, whether this is a drawback or something that’s expected with watercolor is up to you to decide.

The cut on the cover is the magic that helps the spine flip and the color of the cover become visible. It’s clever and handy and well-made. No elastic necessary, and the idea of two journals–one lined and one unlined solves a lot of problems from to-do lists to sketching.

—Quinn McDonald is a life- and certified creativity coach. She teaches people how to write and give presentations. She also teaches people who can’t draw how to keep an art journal.

Thanks to the Unknown

Last night, I dreamed about the house fire again. In 2002, in August, our row house caught fire and burned. Poorly trained roofers accidentally set the roof on fire. It started as a smoldering fire, which they didn’t notice. They left for the day, leaving a cannister of propane on the roof.

Fire photo by H. Peter Clamann ©2006

An unknown man across the street was sitting on his balcony, enjoying an after-work drink, when he saw wisps of smoke, followed by flame, licking around our roof. He didn’t waste any time. He ran across the street, and banged on every door, including ours.  There were more than a dozen houses in our cluster.”Your house is on fire, get out!” he yelled.

My husband stepped out to see if it was true, and I went to the phone to dial 911. The fire department was on the way before I left the house.

You never want to see the home you owe 28 years of payments on with a “Condemned” sign on the front door. Neither do you want to walk up the stairs in the company of the fire marshal to see the night sky clearly through the hole in your roof, and have the confused fire marshal ask, “What room was this?” as you gaze in a charred mess that is piled with books and thigh-high in shingles and debris. It was amazing that I could look at him and say, simply, “My studio.”

People told me how lucky I was that the house didn’t burn to the ground, how great it was that I could buy new clothes and furniture. One of my neighbors complained the next morning that she hoped I wouldn’t leave “that mess” –the contents of my studio that the fire fighters had thrown out the windows. I was mad at the gawkers who stood around, taking photos of my ruined house, of me, sweaty and dirty, picking up my art life on my front lawn. When I think about that time, I think of the art show promoter who refused to refund my booth space fee when I told him that I couldn’t participate in the show in two weeks because my studio burned. “No refunds,” he said, and I knew he didn’t believe my story.

In the dream, however, I remember the people who helped. The neighbor who let us stay in her house, adding our three cats to her six and her neice, nephew and their child–6 of us in her two-bedroom space. Of another neighbor who was going on vacation and insisted we use their place while they were gone. Of another artist who sent me a 20-pound box of art supplies so I could get started again. Of the insurance adjuster who arrived before 8 o’clock the next day and organized the repair.

Most of all, I remember the perfect stranger who ran over from his house and prevented ours from burning to the ground. I wanted to thank him in some way, but I wasn’t even sure where he lived. He left when the fire engines squealed to the curb. He saved lives on that day, as if he did it every day.

To thank him, I wrote a letter. “One of your neighbors saved lives. He did it without thought of reward. He left before we could thank him.  All we know is that he lives on this street. I thought you’d want to know who lives among you, who your neighbor is.” I went on to describe how his fast, self-less actions had brought the fire department before the row-house fire spread to other roofs. How all the neighbors left their houses with pets and children, scared, but safe. I distributed the letter to every house on his street.

In my dream, I see the man and thank him. And every time I wake from that dream, I am grateful all over again.

—Quinn McDonald is a life- and certified creativity coach. She teaches people how to write and give presentations. She also teaches people who can’t draw how to keep an art journal.

Walking Meditation: Seeing Your World

Before it gets hot, I’m up and walking. About three miles a day. Walking meditation is the quiet start to my day. After I get home, the phone can ring and the calls can start, but without that time of meditation and quiet contemplation, my day never settles in right.

Walking meditation can take many forms, mine is simply walking briskly while being aware of the sounds and sights that nature offers. “Nature” covers a broad experience here–I live in a city, so there is traffic, trees, kids on their way to school, bikes, dogs, crossing guards, trash and recycling pick-ups. Often I’m walking before it gets too light or too noisy, but it doesn’t really matter. A good walking meditation is a great way to start the day.

Here is a wood picket fence with a new coat of paint. It’s had a tough summer, though.

White picket fence, baked in the heat.

One of my joys is to see things closely, to enjoy them exactly as they are in the exact slant of light as they appear. And at different times of year, there is a different light and each object has different meanings.

This picket fence needed paint two weeks ago. It had been through a number of years of dust storms, scorching sun and drought. It was peeling and grey.

Now it’s had a coat of paint, but not all the pickets soaked up the paint in the same way. In this slant of light, the curved slats look important, standing out from the many others that are straight. Sort of like people.

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Here is a lampost, the kind that our neighborhood uses. In this light, I realized that the texture wasn’t aluminum, nor was it bright metal.

Tall light posts in our neighborhood.

In fact, it seems to be wrapped in something and then painted over. It’s hard and plastic sounding when tapped with a fingernail. It could be fiberglass,

Is this fiberglass wrapping on our light posts?

but all I know is that the criss-cross is fascinating and makes great patterns as the sun slants against it.

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Last week, I noticed that Palo Verde trees were putting out new leaves. These leaves are tiny and won’t get much bigger, but when they fall off, it comes off with the entire stem, and looks like pine straw. It’s tough, and makes horrible mulch.

New leaves on the palo verde

Walking meditation is a never-ending surprise of sounds and views. You can walk the same route every day and never see or experience the same walk twice.

It’s a soothing and calming experience; walking day to day makes you aware of the passage of time and the changes in your life as well as in the seasons. Often, people are surprised at the change of months or the approaching holiday. Walking meditation puts you in perfect synchronization with the world you walk through.

–—Quinn McDonald is a life- and certified creativity coach. She teaches people how to write and give presentations. She also teaches people who can’t draw how to keep an art journal.

Creative Threat: Studio Fear

There is an understood, but largely unspoken fear in every creative person. Every time we leave the studio, it can be the last time. There is no guarantee that we will have the next idea, the drive, the self-discipline to

Butterflies sunning on the other side of the screen. © Quinn McDonald 2009

return. Most days, this thought doesn’t cross our minds. But there are weeks when we shut off the light and cross the threshold and wonder, “Maybe that was it. Maybe there is nothing left. Maybe I’ve had my last good idea.”

Because we aren’t completely in control of the flow of ideas, the best we can do is create an environment of anticipation and eagerness in the studio and leave it there to wait for us when he come back. Here are some ways to do that:

Leave a project unfinished and waiting for you. That way, when you come back, you know exactly what you have to do to complete the project. Whether it’s putting a clasp on a necklace or spraying fixative on a drawing, knowing that a piece is one step away from completion is an invitation to return.

Start a project. If you enter the studio and feel that you have to come up with a new idea, pull out the pieces, gather the materials, and then. . .face them, it is harder to go to the studio. A project that is waiting to go takes the uncertainty out of the decision.

Leave some inspiration waiting for you. A new book, a magazine, a fascinating piece of textile, a celebration page in your journal can welcome you back to your studio and remind you that much creativity can happen in this space and you are the one to make it happen.

Clean up the biggest mess. No one wants to go into the studio and spend an hour scrubbing brushes and vacuuming threads and beads before the work can begin. Having supplies out and ready to go is inviting, having a mess to manage drains your creative energy.

Create a ritual. Having to make the decision to go to the studio every day is hard. Make creative work part of every day, like picking up the mail or brushing your teeth. Create a ritual that pulls you in the right direction. One of my favorites is making a cup of tea, locking my gremlin in the linen closet and heading to the studio.

Lock up the gremlin. All of us have negative self-talk. It starts when we think about doing creative work. “What makes you think you can write?” “Who do you think you are wasting time in a studio?” “You aren’t a real artist, you just waste time.” If that talk comes into the studio with me, it’s all I can hear. I know what the gremlin of negative self-talk looks like. I gave him a name, drew his picture, and put it in the linen closet on my way to the studio. Then I’m ready for work.

What are your rituals, tips and boosts to get to your creative work?

–—Quinn McDonald is a life- and certified creativity coach. She teaches people how to write and give presentations. She also teaches people who can’t draw how to keep an art journal.

Theme Thursday #18: 9.24.09

Maps are fascinating. They help us figure out where we are and where we still have to go. They help us figure out what is happening near us and far away. They show us proportions, how high that mountain is, how low the sea.

Boston Ride, map by Bill Tipton, Compartmaps.com

Bill Tipton draws maps. An amazing amount of technical knowledge combines with artistic ability at Compartmaps. Here’s the really amazing thing: Bill told me he does custom maps. He also does photo-realistic technical drawings. But the maps are what intrigue me. That’s one of Bill Tipton’s maps on the left.

While I’m on the map theme: I occasionally get lost on the internet, and turn up someplace with no idea how I got there. Today I came across an orphan piece–a piece written two years ago with such yearning and hope that I became intrigued. Seanie Blue wrote a story of people who had no map of time or their lives. Blue hoped it would become a movie. The story is on his website, as is his hope to sell it. . . and then no updates, although he has posted often since then.

Ready to get back to writing your own novel? Chris Brogan will help you map what makes a story work.

Poems are a kind of emotional map using only words and the images they invoke. For a fresh poem every day, you can check in at Poetry Daily. Give yourself a treat before you start reading emails in the morning.

If you love typography–the way printed letters look on a page, watch this video of artist Richard Darill of Bit Rebels drawing a letter cascade with different typefaces. One of the best thrills on YouTube is watching artists draw. Here’s an artist drawing a picture of Betty Davis–with a mascara wand. Is this possible? Yes, it is. I tried it, and it works. I’m not a portrait artist, I stuck to a willow tree.

You can join in on Theme Thursday: post three links to sites you love or blogs you follow. You can do it on your site or in comments here.

Five Most Recent  Theme Thursdays: * * * Creative Play 9.17.09* * * Creative Play 9.10.09 * * *  Creative Play 9.3.09 * * * Creative Play 8.27.09 * * * Creative Play 8/20/09 * * *  Creative Play 8/15/09 * * *   Creative Play 8/6/09 * * * Creative Play 7/30/09 *** Creative Play 7/23/09 * * *

—Quinn McDonald is a life- and certified creativity coach. She teaches people how to write and give presentations. She also teaches people who can’t draw how to keep an art journal.

Wrong, Wrong, Wonderfully Wrong

“Sometimes it hits me that I’m wrong about most things. About time. About my place in space. About the nature of the body. About the nature of the divine. About human nature. About what death is. About who I am and who my kids are. And about what the creek needs to support the salmon and all its visitors.

But heavens, let’s not worry about being wrong! I’m gradually learning that, paradoxically, it’s the foolsgold–the blunderings, giving ups, breakdowns, in spite ofs, chance encounters, shatterings, letting gos, and mess-ups, that has led to most of the creativity in my life, not the sweet making of something beautiful, or “enlightened” inspiration, and certainly not feeling in control. It’s the opposites, listenings, buzz hums,  the falling (leaping) down the rabbit hole, the stepping through the looking glass, barefoot, with no suitcase, in new territory.”

–Susan G. Wooldridge, Foolsgold, p. 88.

After reading that, I began to wonder why it is that when we notice we are wrong, we are so concerned with having been wrong, instead of pleased and delighted in our ability to detect a mistake and fix or change it.

—Quinn McDonald is a writer, life- and creativity coach.

Four Seasons: Fall in Phoenix

Back East, it’s fall. Apple-picking time. Fields are plowed under, corn harvested, and fields are readied for fall fun: mazes for Halloween formed out of straw bales, pumpkins showing up in farmers’ markets. There are chilly days, and birdbaths may have that skim of ice on them. It’s definitely fall.

palm trees reflected in a swimming pool © Quinn McDonald, 2009

Here in Phoenix, it’s also fall. Our fall is a bit more subtle. The sun has now dropped far enough South so the pizza-oven heat is broken. We no longer have strings of more-than-110 degree days, and our nights drop into the 70s. The pool is no longer hot every time you get into it. It’s brisk.

RV’s come down out of the mountains and are parked in front and back yards. Some of these are big, and, frankly, I hate to see them looming over fences. I don’t own one, so it looks like jealousy if I complain.

Migrating birds start to show up. Birds we don’t see for most of the year suddenly are in the parks, at the bird bath and feeders. Except for pigeons, we don’t see many flocks of birds from April to September. Now they are back.

Oranges and lemons start to grow again. They stopped growing in May when it got too hot. The citrus trees drop their sun scorched leaves and put out some new, tentative leaves to make up for it.

House plants you took in to protect them from the heat can be put out again. It’s time to plant tomatoes and crops that burn up in the summer. Tomatoes, peppers, and flowers can go into containers now. They’ll be on the Thanksgiving table.

Sage, desert willow and Cape Honeysuckle start to bloom again. Most plants don’t bloom in the heat of summer. Some trees drop their leaves. They come back now, ready for milder days and using the water to produce lush flowers instead of simply survive.

Fall in the Southwest is a time of promise. Promise to start hiking and exploring again. Promise to invite people over for outdoor eating. It’s a surprising time of gratitude that outdoor life can start up and our utility bills head down.

—Quinn McDonald is a writer, life- and creativity coach. She teaches business how to write clearly. She is also a journal writer who teaches people who can’t draw how to keep an art journal.

Be the Houseguest Who Gets Invited Back

While the East is buckling down for rain, mud, snow and general grumbling, here in the Southwest, we are welcoming back our snowbirds–people who live here to avoid the winter in other parts of the country.

Families feel the rise in house guests starting in September and peaking around February. I love showing people the area, but for the sanity of all, let’s just review some facts:

1. We do have seasons. We love the weather, that’s why we live here. But we also have searing summers where the temperatures go over 115 and the air-conditioning bill is often over $400. That’s the price we pay for not having snow. It does balance out. The apple you leave in the car in the morning is a baked apple when you come back. So let’s not rush to judgment that we have “no worries.” We have to paint our house trim, replace outdoor furniture and struggle with pool chemistry instead of shoveling snow.

2. We don’t have drifting sand dunes. The Phoenix area is in the Sonoran Desert. This is not to be confused with the Sahara. It’s a different kind of desert. Phoenix is surrounded by mountains, and we don’t have sand dunes and drifts. We have lots of small granite rocks. This area was formed by volcanic action millions of years ago. The vegetation is scrub-trees: acacia, blue and green palo verde, desert willow. Yes, we have trees.

3. All of Arizona is not Sonoran desert. Less than half the state is desert. The rest of it, from about 100 miles North of Phoenix to the border, is mountainous. That area gets snow. People ski at Arizona ski areas. There are more Ponderosa Pines in that area of Arizona than in the entire state of Maine. The road to the North Rim of the Grand Canyon is often closed with snow drifts between November and May. If you visit Sedona in March, bring a coat and gloves.

4. Yes, the Grand Canyon is in Arizona. Even if the Colorado River made it, it’s still in Arizona.

5. There are many different kinds of Indians in this area. And they prefer to be called Indians, not Native Americans. They do not live in teepees, they live in houses. They do not wear feather war bonnets, those are the Plains Indians. Each tribe has different customs and a different language. Apaches did not speak Navajo. The Hopi and Navajo share some words, but the same word often has different meanings. “Pretty woman” in one language means “meat” in another. You can’t sling your words around haphazardly.

That covers a few misconceptions about the area. Now, how to get invited back as a house guest:

1. Ask before you come. Be honest about how long you want to stay, and let your host guide you. Last year, I actually took one house guest to the airport and swung around to the next terminal to pick up the nest one.

2. You are on vacation. Your host is not. Please do not expect your host to take time off work and create the perfect vacation for you. Plan what you want to do, rent a car, and be independent. Even if we work at home, we still have to work. Every day.

3. Adjust your morning routine to your host’s schedule. You might rise and shine and want to chat and eat a big breakfast, but if your host has an early meeting, stay in your bedroom till the house is empty. Listen very carefully for hints about the routine.

4. If you are a high-maintenance person (you know who you are), please stay in a hotel. The people you are visiting have a busy life and need to keep living it while you are there. If you need special medicines, certain times you must do certain things, have many food allergies, pet dislikes, and schedules with odd times, don’t inflict them on your host. Be your high-maintenance self in a place that will cater to your whims. That place is called a hotel,  not the house of your host.

5. You do not have to bring a hostess gift. Really, we don’t mind. Particularly if it requires dusting. Taking us out to supper is a much better idea. We really love that, and it always matches.

6. On your last night, ask what to do with the linens. Some people want them in the hamper, some in the washing machine. My last guest made up the bed back into a futon and I had to unfold and unmake it before I dashed off to pick up the next guest.

We love guests, and we love showing off our beautiful scenery. A guest who helps out and is funny is a guest who will be welcomed back with open futon!

–Quinn McDonald is looking forward to her passel of house guests. She is a life- and certified creativity coach. She teaches people how to write and give presentations. She also  teaches people who can’t draw how to keep an art journal.