I remember wearing a white pilgrim cap and a paper collar in my elementary school play, making handprint turkeys with tempera paint, and bringing canned beans for the school’s Cornucopia Food Drive. After that, we drove five hours in the Dodge to my grandparents’ house in the Bay Area to celebrate Thanksgiving. Those warm traditions stopped when we moved to Pakistan, and the holiday started to look and feel different for me.

I’ve always had an artistic bent. Creativity has shaped my life, influenced by a bit of ADHD and a mother with a degree in design from UC Berkeley.

I’ve been thinking about Jackie, the puppy from my last Facebook post. Our time together at Tarbela was short and ended in heartbreak, but I sure loved that dog.

Bees and People by Naum Loyrish. If you’re expecting a literary review, sadly, you’re mistaken. Bees and People is a Russian book published in 1974, translated into English, and that’s where my story begins.

When we moved to Pakistan, we spent a few days in Tokyo. Dad had lived there during the Korean War and wanted to show Mom the Japan he loved. Before we left, Mom let me choose a Japanese doll and a lacquer box as souvenirs. I picked out a red and gold box right away, but choosing the doll was harder. I wanted a delicate Geisha in a pink kimono, holding a parasol with cherry blossoms. But Mom, who studied design at Berkeley, chose a simple wooden doll for me instead. I was disappointed. It didn’t even have arms or legs to play with!

I've stood atop the Acropolis in Greece, marveled at Bangkok's reclining Buddha, and wandered the streets of Rome. Never did I picture myself at a Tattoo Convention in Lake Havasu, Arizona.

I considered myself a "horse girl" when I was a kid. For my ninth birthday, my mom bought me a book titled "How to Draw Horses" and encouraged me to read "Black Beauty" or, at the very least, to give "Misty of Chincoteague" a try. Although I found it difficult to sit still long enough to read about horses, I could spend hours drawing them.