Little branch of lacy leaves. As a shadow, on a wet rock and in front of the garage door.
Just a little summer offering. It clouds, it rains, it suns, it winds. I can’t tell when to walk the dog. The path next to the creek is way too muddy. The clouds are bouncy thick…will it rain now? Now? Maybe I just have to get wet and muddy.
I bought grey ink and wanted to see what it would look like on watercolor and pastel. This is it but it doesn’t look very grey….However, the paper was white. Not sure why it looks pink.
73 degrees so far in the DC area – it’s February 24th – this can’t be right…..but it feels so good.
Thinking about a summer walk with my dog.
Walking with those in Standing Rock. Water Is Life. I’ve signed every petition, prayed every prayer…now what? Water Is Life.
If you ask an older person how old they feel on the inside, they might tell you they feel like they’re 35, sometimes younger like 25 or 18. Walking with the dog today, I realized that if I answered that question it somewhere between nine and twelve years old.
All my mind can handle right now is walking the dog, drawing and painting, meditation, cooking and making yummy things like chocolate and a few other basics. When I go beyond that, I begin to have anxiety attacks. I don’t know how to handle dissidence. As a nine year old are you expected to understand why people don’t just get along? This is where I am during tRump time.
All I want is harmony, birds chirping, the smell of damp woods, honey, thoughtful discussions and laughter, my dog, a crackling fireplace on a cold night and rolling down a hill in summer. Is that too much to ask?
I’m trying to be strong, up-beat and pro-active. I’ve written to my Congressperson four times in the last few days. Then I listen to the news and the storm clouds roll in…..
Do you wear an apron when you cook? I don’t. I have one, but I have never bothered to take the time the put the damn thing on. Why? Why bother? I run into the kitchen after work and begin. There is no dawdling; no pondering the situation, no gazing into the depths of the deep, dark, refrigerator. And no measuring devices will ever taint one of my dishes. Let’s just get the job done! First you open the freezer and check out the meats, and if no meats are being sacrificed, then move on to the vegetable drawer. Easy, sauces, pots, pans, a little of this and that and, voilá, we have a meal!
I’ve been told that I cook the way I paint – with no patience. When I got married, my husband was aghast at how dirty the kitchen became when I cooked. I’m still not sure what he was complaining about. I mean, I always put my ingredients away after I use them. But preparation is like conducting an orchestra. Things splatter, pop, sizzle and fly across the room. I have stopped throwing the spaghetti against the wall to see if it’s done, mostly because our ceilings are really high in the kitchen.Continue reading
Just a thought….
I was going to title this Why Drain the Swamp. But then I thought wait a second I wouldn’t mind draining the stinky, racist, misogynistic, xenophobic, rotting parts of the swamp. Otherwise, what’s wrong with the swamp?
Fun to let go, smear, spray, drip and drizzle paint…
I used to make up bedtime stories for my kids. One story that we all loved was about a a very smart Macaw who adopted a family and then takes them on an adventure to find his home. “Clever” was one of those stories that survived the test of time (about 25 years since my kids were little). My eldest requested an illustrate version of the story so that she could share it with her children.
Written and illustrated by me!!
I don’t know, it was the color of the sky, the silhouetted shapes, the setting sun…the picture just had to be taken. It’s not great or anything but there was something whimsical about the berries and the stems they hung on and the rhythm of the leaves.
I didn’t think my first day as a 60 year old would make that much difference. Yes, I had the normal amount of anxious thoughts. For instance, does “old” start now? Am I now decrepit? I wondered if my body was going to start breaking off piece by piece, like in that great movie Death Becomes Her. Or maybe it would be more like Monty Python and the Holy Grail where the knight is being hacked to pieces and he’s left with no arms, no legs and continues to insist “it’s just flesh wound.” I’m already beginning to feel a little bit like that but that’s not the point.
So, the birthday was great, family, gifts etc. Then the next day, it’s off to workout. The gym is not my kind of place. I’m a loner and sedentary at best, so when I go, I hide behind my earphones and close my eyes while on the elliptical thingy and pretend I’m not really there. No one bothers me and that’s all I ask while I suffer through my exercises.
After warming up, it was now off to lift weights and there the problem
presented itself. I was happily lifting away the old-lady-flabby-arm-parts and doing those squatty-lungie-things while holding a stupid amount of weights, when I realized too late that I had made a fatal mistake. I had taken off my earphones and was left open to not only the whole world but to the man that was one bench over pumping iron like his life depended on it. He looked at me. I quickly looked away but I could feel “it” coming. It was like the electricity you feel just before the storm. You can see the dark line of cumulus clouds rolling in straight for you but it’s memorizing and we’re just to transfixed to move out of the way. Not only that but in this case there was nowhere to run to. I just had to resign myself that I was about to get dumped on.
I paused for a second and thought about my rights to be there, in the weight room, even though there were mostly macho-dudes and intimidating equipment. I stood my ground and watched as the storm came in. His name was Joe. He hadn’t seen me here before but boy did I look fit! (Could I say f*** you now or did I have to take more?) He looked to be in his late 70’s and all of a sudden I got dizzy. This is who I’m attracting now that I’ve turned 60?!!? I turn 60 and I lure octogenarians? He told me to enjoy my work-out after a little more ogle, but the damage was done. I was shaken and could only stretch for about 30 seconds more before feeling the need to flee. Most of my exercise came by sprinting out of the rec. center with downcast eyes so as not to attract the attention of any more senior citizens…like me. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough! Such was day one of being 60. Do I now have to be thankful that I got flirted with at all? Jeez.
Long haired puppy waiting patiently for the trip to Maine. Blending with the couch helps him pass the time.
I had this in mind for today…or any day.
Watercolor and ink…blue monster fun just for Max (3.5yrs old).
This is what I think of each spring when its time to put in a garden. Overwhelming, all connected, confusing, colorful, mercurial, nonsensical and intimidating. Then I don’t.
Small doodle painting… I like gray and yellow.
We always go south in the winter, just for a week.Water and islands seem always to be involved. It felt so good to be warm, snorkeling in turquoise water and the smell salty air. I fell in love with the island of Dominica. “Why aren’t we living there?” I keep asking anyone that will listen.
Home now and there was beautiful flurry of snow dusting the roads and grass this morning. That was nice too. Viewed, of course, sipping coffee, curled up next to a cozy fire.
We did it. We self published two little books that will probably never sell but here they are!!!!
I’m not sure when I saw them for the first time. I must have been 12 years old. I believe Mick Jagger was on the Ed Sullivan show in 1964, so it must have been soon after that I saw pictures of Jagger wearing really bold stripped pants. Iconic image, right?
For me, those pants became the foundation of a self-analyzing psychology. I was hooked on the music, the look, the whole free artistic lifestyle. Sex, drugs and stripped pants! In my young mind, that one article of clothing signified all those things. Continue reading
Burnout! In fact, I am going to strangle the next person that uses the word “amazing.” I was watching a television show and in every sentence, that word was used. I counted 17 “amazings.”
I think words need to have an expiration date on them. The weird thing is that there are just a few words that we have massively overused and have been stuck on for a while now. Continue reading
If this is massage therapy, I’m a can of tomatoes.
Like any other modern day baby boomer, I’m a lover of massage therapy. I’ve come to appreciate a deep tissue pressure that will soothe my jangled nerves without registering a single bruise to my, um, baby soft skin.
This was not the case.
The guy was smooth, strong (too strong) and obviously hadn’t completed his zen preparations that morning. Perhaps I should have told him that I would support the political rebels in his country. Perhaps it was his way of slowly but surely punishing all Americans, one client at a time. Perhaps he had a rough childhood. I apologized for my existence. I pled for my life. I still came away mangled. Continue reading
Not too long ago, this semi-famous-fat-wealthy-powerful guy was telling me that if I hadn’t “made it” by the time I was 30 then just forget it. Being somewhere beyond 40 at the time, I found that incredibly disappointing and became temporarily depressed. However, not being one to wallow for too long in my misery or to believe everything I hear, I began to question whether I had “made it” yet or not? Which led me to wonder, what does “making it” mean? Continue reading
Wait! Read this before you buy your next car! So, you want to buy an environmentally super expensive, fantastic car, like, oh, let’s say a Tesla? The problem is, in the show room it looks pristine and perfect but what happens once you leave that controlled temperature, locked door environment? This is when stress happens, the very beginning of road rage. Well, fear not, I have an idea worthy of a whole new business that will put your anger and anxiety to rest! Pre-distress your vehicle and never fear another fender bender again! Here’s my 30-second elevator speech. Ready? Continue reading
I love taking an object or a photograph and using it as inspiration to write a short story. This is very much a children’s story.
The bottle looked empty but was sealed with a cork, wax and an old tattered ribbon. When Harmony found it on the beach, it was hidden between rocks where it had been resting for some time. At ten years old she was absolutely delighted with the object that fit so perfectly in her little hand. Her first thought was to show her father the new treasure, so off she trotted over the rocky shore like a billy goat. Continue reading