Some random musings on a funky, rainy, miserable Friday:
I just found out that this little (OK, it’s not that little) overhang I have goin’ at the top of my jeans is now being referred to as a “muffintop“! AGHH! And there is some debate (evidently) over which is the greater clothing offense: muffintops or “whaletails“!! Whaletails are when you can see the top of the thong over the top of the jeans in back. In my case, that ain’t gonna happen. Me and thongs…uh uh. …
My kid, my brilliant dog-grooming daughter, Birdpress, blogged yesterday about the “O” magazine (aka The Oprah Magazine ). She and I agree that the magazine reeks of hypocrisy but I (hangs head in shame) already bought the last issue so I felt beholden to read the danged thing in its entirety ’cause once in a while one of her writers (a room full of shit-slinging monkeys) actually says something pretty profound. I’m not saying that these writers have no talent. I’m saying some of them are shit-slinging monkeys.
In the article entitled ” The Doubter’s Dilemma” I found this written by Elizabeth Streb, a choreographer: ” When I’m taking my last breath , I want to look at how I used up the best of myself. How much did I sweat, push, pull, rip, fall, hit, crash, explode? Maybe it has to do with being able to suffer discomfort in zones away from those I know- the mud zone, the ‘I don’t know’ zone. We’re given to planning for the future, but if you fully invest yourself in this half-second you’re in right now, the future will take care of itself. My dream is to be so well-used that in my last half-second, I just burst into dust.”
I like that. I believe that’s my philosophy. I would add that we own and write our own destiny. That we get the opportunity to make a difference or not, to live life large or small. I want to live large.
Tonight I treated my hungry self to something I’ve been craving: meatloaf and mashed potatoes. I made the meatloaf my standard way with lots of finely chopped onions, egg, breadcrumbs, Parmesan cheese, catsup, Worcestershire Sauce, salt, pepper, and of course, good lean ground beef. Not TOO lean. You need some fat in there for flavor! I made the mashed potatoes rather healthy by mixing the cooked potatoes with Campbell’s Condensed Chicken Broth rather than my usual cream and butter but they were oh, so good with steamed broccoli flavored with a tiny bit of olive oil and lemon.
I opened a fun bottle of red wine while the meatloaf was cooking. It’s one D. and I found in Rochester, a 2002 Feudo d’Elimi. This is a medium-bodied Sicilian red, lots of berry flavors, nice soft tannins. A very easy-drinking wine and the price is right at, are you ready? around $3.99 a bottle!
Let me tell ya, a couple of glasses of that Sicilian red, this CD, and a hoop make for some fine pre-dinner entertainment when you and your man are three-and-a-half hours apart! I got my exercise and had so much fun wiggling and swaying to the music! I don’t feel at all guilty about the meatloaf now!
I miss D. something awful. When I spoke with him tonight it was all I could do NOT to get in my car and drive to Rochester! He had a rough day. I wanted to just be there for him to rub his back, make soothing noises and help him forget the facts that a.) his mother is probably never going to leave that nursing home, b.)that work is gonna be difficult, and c.) that we live so far apart. Long distance relationships are a LOT of work!
I see something like this and I think that I am so lucky to be alive in a world where a ten-year-old boy can play a guitar so beautifully that it rivals the music of angels.
Last evening I was worried that the rain and chill would be harmful to my new little dove friend so I brought the cage inside and covered it with an old tablecloth like we used to do for the kids’ parakeet at night. It was doing well, I thought. There was evidence that it had tried eating since there was birdseed scattered about the floor of the cage and some bird poop there as well indicating it was “evacuating” in a healthy way. All good.
I said good night to the pretty white dove and went to bed anticipating seeing it well and happy in the morning. Alas, it must have been sicker than I thought or injured in some way I didn’t realize.
When I came downstairs this morning I called out a “good morning, little bird!” and pulled the cover off the cage and I saw he was dead.
I never really used to get emotional about some animals deaths. My dogs, yes! Definitely. Some of the cats but not the barn cats since that was the natural order of things there. Cattle came and went as did some other farm animals and you learn not to get emotionally attached. You can’t as it is a business as well as a lifestyle. Too much involvement would make you nuts.
Yesterday was a really bad day up until I found the pretty white dove. I drove the three hours home from D.’s house in Rochester after spending an entire week with him to come home to take care of all the details of my other life, the one where I take care of this big old farm and am going through a divorce. I hate leaving him. I feel so alone when I walk into that cold, empty house of mine.
Later that day my STBE (Soon-to-be-Ex) got in a yelling match with me in the parking lot of our building in town when he informed me that he was reneging on our agreement regarding some of the financial arrangements we’d made. I told him I’d had enough and would see him in court. Actually I yelled that at him as I spun the tires out of the parking lot in my Subaru (NOT an easy thing to do with an 8-year-old Forester!)
I went home feeling like sh*t and that’s when I found my little dove. Holding that dove felt good and nurturing and I liked that .
I am sad.
I guess it wasn’t my good luck sign. It wasn’t good luck for the bird, that’s for sure. Maybe I shouldn’t have tried to care for it at all since so much sucks in my life right now.
I went over to the barn today to get the big tractor to mow the fields and
this is what I found instead:
As I drove around the side of the barn I saw this white dove sitting right up against the whitewashed sides of the dairy barn. I stopped the tractor, got off, and approached the little thing, certain that it would try to fly away. It appeared very calm until I tried to reach my hand out towards it and then it jogged away to the left and then to the right. I remembered how we used to corner heifers who’d escaped the pasture by holding both arms out to the side very wide and pushing in towards them in the direction we wanted them to go and sure enough, I soon had the little bird securely in my hands.
It didn’t fight me at all and I wanted to release it after making sure it was not injured but there are a half dozen feral barn cats who make this area and the smelly dumpster their home and I knew this dove wouldn’t stand a chance against them. I held the bird close to my chest, aware that I may be putting myself at risk for some horrid avian virus or at the least some nasty bird lice but I couldn’t leave it there. I covered its head with the tail of my T-shirt and drove slowly back across the road to home.
I remembered how my youngest daughter (you know her as Birdpress) was always rescuing wild animals and we had an assortment of cages and hutches in the basement long ago so I set off clutching the dove to my chest to find it a home. Sure enough there was a large cage down there just right for a frightened bird.
With a tiny souffle dish filled with water and one with birdseed I placed the dove in the cage and left her on the deck in the shade from the old maple tree. It seemed happy and even ate and drank and sat calmly watching me as I went about my yard work.
I think I should post a notice in the newspaper to see if anyone misplaced a white dove. If no one claims him/her I guess I have one animal at least on this old farm who needs me. It’s been a long time….
Thanks to the intervention of Peter Parkour, our favorite Spideyman, I decided to remove the SnapShots from my blog page. It was driving us all insane, me included.
I wish I could give credit (or blame) to whomever turned me on to my newest addiction. Sometime in the last couple of weeks I read one of your blogs about “hooping” and since I didn’t understand the reference I Googled the term and “VOILA” my new passion ! Hoop dancing! Unfortunately I got so wrapped up in all the YouTube videos I forgot to make note of whom to thank! So whoever you are, I want you to know I am so excited and pleased to be hooping up a storm! THANK YOU!
I wanted to buy one but these danged things aren’t cheap. Lucky for me someone posted a video on how to make a hula hoop. The ones most of us think of when we think of Hula Hoops are the old-fashioned ones for children. Those don’t work nearly so well as these. The new versions are far bigger and heavier and thus much easier for adults to use.
I went to Home Depot and got everything I needed: 160 psi irrigation tubing, couplers, a ratcheting PVC cutter, and some colored electrical tape and colored Duct tape. I spent about $75 total BUT I can make at least a dozen hoops from this. All my friends will be receiving hoops and I expect them to USE THEM!!
Here are the results of my first three tries:
Not too shabby!!
If I ever get to be half as good as the girls at Hoopnotica then maybe, just maybe I’ll post a video of me hoopdancing but that will probably be a looong time coming.
I went down to my studio today with my camera and took some pictures of things I’ve done over the past few years. I realized there are things stranger than what I’d posted last time so I am going to put up a few more of them just to give a better over-view. This is a painting I’ve been playing with for quite a long time. It’s evolved and morphed into some strange thing for which I have no explanation.
These two are details of the painting:
and .
The following are some of my oldest projects, back when I did a great deal of papier mache sculptures. If you’ve read my past blogs you’ve heard me refer to my alter ego as “Bob”. Well, these are the physical manifestation of my “Bobs’.
Bob #1
Bob #2 and
Bob #3 !!
Then there’s my sweet “Happy ” the Anatomically Correct Dog sculpture: and also
one of my hardest projects, The Dragon:
who is approximately 3′6″ long and 27″ tall!
Many of my bigger and better sculptures sold back in 1994 at one of my bigger shows.
Here are a few more paintings, both acrylic and watercolor:
: and and
and and
There many, many more but I won’t bore you with the rest at this time…..LOL!
Once again my post is prompted by my friend BetMe who is great at encouraging others. It must be because she is so talented that she has the self-confidence to motivate others without feeling at all threatened.
So with that said, I am posting some pictures of my artwork for you all to look at and hopefuly you’ll be honest but kind.
This is one of my pet portaits. He’s a long-haired Jack Russell Terrier. He is a happy guy.
Ammi Phillips was a seventeenth century artist who was never formally trained but who gained a reputation as a primitive portrait painter. I have been a huge fan of his work since I first laid eyes on his work. I have copied a few of his portraits but this is my favorite called Girl in a Red Dress. I have copied it several times. This is one of them. (Sorry for the lousy photo.)
This is a painting I did three summers ago. This bullfrog lives in my little fish pond in the back yard!
Just an image I had seen in a magazine some time ago. I wanted to try my hand at painting the ocean and rocks ,etc. Not my best work but I am OK with the learning experience of every painting I do.
I will post more at a later time. I think this gives a fair overview of what I’ve been doing the past couple of years. I really don’t paint with other people’s expectations in mind except when doing commissions and even then I insist on autonomy with regards to style and form.
My kids mostly all inherited my love of art.
My baby girl is over at Birdpress (see blogroll). She is an amazingly talented woman. She not only writes like a dream but she can paint, draw, craft, the whole shebang. She is currently a Pet Stylist (aka Dog Groomer) so she channels a lot of her talent into her first love, animals. They love her , too!
My son Chris is likewise talented. He also is a brilliant writer who says everything with a wonderful self-deprecating humor.( Check him out on my blogroll at Postulates & Pasttimes). His gardens are a thing of beauty, too!
My oldest daughter doesn’t acknlowledge her talents and has never really pursued them but whenever called upon she comes through with amazing talent. Last year she and I signed up to do face-painting at her church fundraiser and she blew me away with her freehand designs. But if you ask her if she is an artist she just laughs!
My oldest son is another full-fledged artist. He can draw anything. He specializes in Fantasy Art and his work makes my shudder it’s so good!
So it’s really cool to see my children stepping into their own individual areas of talent. Each is unique and wonderful and no, I’m not prejudiced!
