Finding My Glasses

Dear Diary,

2009-07-09T21:35:00.006-05:00

It would be a really good idea if I took advantage of tomorrow's quiet, empty house. Sigh. Deep breath. Relax.... Just practicing some self soothing techniques. Wouldn't it be great if the techniques actually worked? Well, sometimes they do, but not right now. I've got the jitters because I might actually have time, place, and opportunity to paint tomorrow. Nervous excitement is what Reese calls it. Whatever it is, I'm a bit apprehensive that my brain and hands won't remember how to paint, and yet strangely pleased that I get to try.

Tomorrow, tomorrow, I'll start the day tomorrow with a smile....

Martinizing

2009-07-03T16:23:00.005-05:00

It's so easy to get sucked into the computer vortex. Good grief! One thing leads to another, and another, and before realization fully kicks in, it's been hours. Presumably, time management would be enhanced if thoughts would flow a little more freely. But today, when I sat down to write about this week in art, so many competing ideas surfaced that it has taken a while to coalesce them in a concise manner.

Last week, I finished the painting of the Guadalajara Beggar Woman. It needed some refining touches, and now they are complete. Mmmm, looking at it here, I can see it might need more work...again. With oil paintings, it seems that they change some as the paint dries. And when I don't obsess over them for a while, then I can step back and assess the paintings more objectively, less passionately, which sometimes helps produce a better painting in the end. We'll see what happens with this one....

This week and last, I worked on a portrait of my good friend, Martin. It is unfinished as of yet, but Martin came over today and saw it, and liked it, so it stands to reason that a photo wouldn't offend in any way. One of the most difficult challenges of painting portraits is that everyone be pleased with the finished product. Maybe it helped that before he saw the painting, he was prepared by a gentle admonishment that the eyes, mouth, and fingers would be re-worked after the paint dries a bit....next week some time. It took forever (OK, not forever) to select and sketch the pose, but when I finally got this one on the canvas, it practically started to sing....or chat, as Martin often does. :) That's one reason of many I like him so much. Oh, and by the way, this painting is 95% finished. Sometimes though, that last 5% takes a long time to get done.

Also, the top photo was taken outside (Beggar Woman) and the bottom one (Martin) inside. Neither are true to the colors in their respective paintings. It's often a frustration that the photos of the art aren't a true match to what it's like to see them in person.

Jake Shimabukuro

2009-07-01T17:20:00.007-05:00

A quick little poem to ensure
that readers have cause to endure
almost a week's break;
we drove to see Jake
and listen to uke playing pure.

His name is Jake Shimabukuro.
He can only be called virtuoso,
an ukulele he plays
and performs to amaze;
he's become an uke playing hero.

We saw him perform at the Cafe
named Cactus on campus at U T;
an intimate crowd,
spellbound and "wow"ed...
we listened and cheered and were happy.

But now to the new tasks at hand
without which life would be quite bland;
a painting to paint
and supper to bake...
'n staying cool in house air conditioned.

Bikes, Blogs, and Behold!

2009-06-25T15:45:00.008-05:00

Finally! It took more than a lil' bit of time to finish this painting. There were many frustrating moments where great globs of paint were scraped off and thrown away like yesterday's news. I'm very pleased with the finished product, though. It's extremely satisfying when a painting comes together and (according to me) works.

This is the third time that I've painted this image. All three paintings are a little different, with different colors, brush strokes, and viewpoints. The other two were more landscapey, while this one (in my opinion) is almost like a portrait of this particular bit of city forest. It's called Trees in Hermann Park - 3 and is 36" x 24", oil on linen.

Farm on Highway 71 will be displayed in Houston's City Hall for either nine months or a year...the specifics of the exact details have been a little sketchy. I just found out a few hours ago that the exhibit opening is tomorrow between 11:30 and 1pm. Houston area artists were invited to submit up to two works for consideration in an Art on Loan Exhibit for the City of Houston. This one of mine was accepted!

Yesterday, I took my cruiser to a bike workshop in the Third Ward. The poor groovy bike is old, and needed some tender lovin' care. When the gracious folks who volunteer there asked if I wanted to patch my flat tire, or install a new tube, of course I asked for a price comparison. Free for the patch vs $3 for a new tube? Just show me what to do to patch this baby! Three attempts at patching later and I was happily buying a new tube. Then, because real fear occurs when bike brakes don't work, I installed new brake pads...for all of two dollars. The way this bike workshop works is that people bring their bikes in to get fixed, and then do the work themselves. It was the first time I had ever worked on a bike. So, for $5, and a couple of hours of sweat equity, this cruiser works like a charm.

Also, I'm starting a new blog. :) It's called Purely Poetry, and will basically be a compilation of poetry that I've written for this blog...and if I feel really brave, maybe some random prose.

Busking in the Afterglow

2009-06-22T16:23:00.005-05:00

Getting whooping cough has been one of the best things to ever happen in my life. The constant tiredness caused by the cough forced me to slow down, and because of that, I finally had both time and opportunity to learn to play the ukulele. For whatever reason, I've taken to the ukulele like a duck to water. And delight of delights, Reese (on guitar) and I (on ukulele) play music together morning and night.

Not long into this new found love, it was decided that Reese and I needed to take it to the streets. So last night, spur of the moment, Reese and I went busking. (Busking is the practice of performing in public places for tips and gratuities.)

We live a short walk from a shopping/restaurant area of Houston. Deciding that was the place to have our first outdoor public performance, we loaded up the guitar, some sheet music, the ukulele, a djembe, the playlist, and a hat...for the tips, IF we got any. In the actual act of putting one foot in front of the other to walk there, not knowing what was about to happen, Reese and I both started to get a little nervous. But honestly, there was nothing to worry about...we would just play the same songs we play and sing in our living room every day. Piece of cake.

Sure enough, once we got started, there was nothing to it. Because the playlist wasn't very long, we ended up rotating through the same songs over and over. We played for an hour and earned enough money to buy ourselves a few beers plus a tip for the waiter....during which time,
while enjoying said cold frothy beverage, we realized the whole busking event had been undocumented with a photo. So, we went back and performed the songlist again, this time making sure to ask if someone would please take our picture. (?) And yes, during the second set, we earned more tips.

All in all, it was a most excellent adventure, one we are eager to repeat.

Extra! Extra!

2009-06-18T18:37:00.002-05:00

Read all about it! I've been featured on the Block 7 Wine Company blog. Sweet.

Thoughtless Limerick

2009-06-17T18:49:00.003-05:00

Lost for the right words, I am thinking,
but thoughts disappear, or are shrinking;
ever smaller they grow
'til, as you'll soon know
not one small synapse starts it's linking.

So therefore, my mind is a puddle
of nonsense, I am quite befuddled.
I can't seem to think,
my eyes they just blink...
but onward I go, now to muddle.

Muddle through old cardboard boxes,
searching the mess is a shocks-es.
What might I find there?
I had better beware;
there might be a box full of rocks-es.

Or socks-es without the right mate,
just please please contain all the hate,
for with boxes to rhyme
I ran out of time
and thus, sealed my fate, second-rate.

Is it clear that the boxes discussed
in the musty old attic of rust
is akin to my brain
on the border of sane
or at least full of chaos and dust?

Now back to the ole misty fog
that my brain, that ole addled nog,
is trying it's bestest
to have small successes
and write for the readers of blog.

To search all day long, it could happen,
for thinking and thoughts overlappin'
are infrequent it seems
not one thought to scream
about which I could start a rappin'.

And so, gentle reader, adieu;
not one thought from this head came unglued.
Pure nonsense it's been
from the start to the end,
forgive if you think that's just rude.

Evil Jerry

2009-06-16T10:39:00.004-05:00

NEVER NEVER NEVER shop at Jerry's Artarama. Not only is the quality of the product inferior, the customer service is LOUSY!

With great anticipation, I ordered some linen canvases online. As I've mentioned several times throughout the course of this blog, professional quality art supplies are expensive. When a friend forwarded an e-mail touting great deals through Jerry's Artarama online store, I was happy to jump on board. Imagine my complete dismay when the package arrived, and the quality of the canvases was grossly sub-par. Within moments, I sent an e-mail trying to find an amicable solution to a big problem.

Days later and still no response from the e-mail, I called the 8oo number. I waited 37 minutes to speak with someone, who, in the end, basically told me to go #@** myself. The one small concession was that we could return the product at our local store and get a full refund. Houston is a big town. The local store is a 45 minute drive -- one way. But, hoping for resolution, Reese and I went. Turns out, local stores have nothing whatsoever to do with the online part of the business. They didn't even carry the same product line. The person on the other end of the 800 # call knew full well, and sent us on a wild goose chase anyway. The local store told me I was screwed, but must have done something on my behalf. Because, a week later I actually got a call from someone at the company...not saying, "Oh, we're so sorry. What can we do to help?" Instead, they said, "Prove it."

Then, they said, "We're bigger and more important than you. You are a tiny insignificant speck. We don't have to do anything to make this right. You're up *%#@ creek without a paddle. HAHAHAHA!"

So again, NEVER purchase anything from Jerry's Artarama. They are very bad people.

Guadalajara Beggar Woman

2009-06-11T20:51:00.003-05:00

Last summer, Reese and I were an extra pair of hands on a senior high mission trip to Guadalajara. Walking through El Centro one afternoon, we saw this woman sitting on the steps of a cathedral. When I saw her, I saw a painting, exactly like when I first saw the woman in Jamaica.

For various reasons, though, life happens, and painting doesn't. It seems like ages since I picked up a paintbrush. How do I begin? Do I really know how to do this???? Do I have a clue? What happens if I pick up a paintbrush and it's all been a fluke?

So, with a small leap of faith, I squeeze out the paints. I take out the palette knife and start mixing colors. Then, just one stroke is applied to the canvas, and another, and another. Soon, the process overwhelms, and it's been hours. To be honest, I've been working on this particular painting in my head for almost a year. But, now, look! It is a painting! The woman and child look like what they are supposed to look like! It is the beginning of what I've envisioned for all these long months....

Reese comes home and cheers. Realizing how much of my soul has been invested in this painting, I start to cry. What a blessing....I'm so grateful that I can be a part of this. Amen and amen.

The Three Ukuleles

2009-06-10T13:08:00.005-05:00

When I walked in to Southland Hardware with the 30 pound Still Life with Ukulele # 1 in order to engineer the best way to affix it to a wall, it was almost as if I was a rock star. Employees and customers alike seemed fascinated with the piece and kept gazing adoringly back and forth between me and the art work and asking thoughtful questions. Understand, it's a heavy piece. Of course, I was flattered by the attention. But lugging it from one end of the hardware store to the other trying to find just the right eye hooks, chains, and bolts to make it work was laborious to say the least. Getting stopped every few paces...well, it was nice to have an excuse to rest. Finally, one of my (alleged) new fans asked if he could please help carry it? Gladly, I agreed with much rejoicing. (yea)

As of yesterday, the series is officially finished. All three pieces will be dropped off at Block 7 within the next week. Reese literally helped with the nuts and bolts on #1 and #2, and I re-worked my bio and resume. It's great to be finished with the whole project, and great to have an updated resume.

Below is a copy of what was sent to the wine bar to use in their publicity or whatever, if they end up using any of my pieces. They've already stipulated that they reserve the right to not display all works. The bio is something re-worked from a previous Houston art thing, hence the abundant references to Houston. (It always feels a little strange doing a bio. It's weird and a discomfiting to, for lack of a better word, brag.)

Painted a wine related still life series in conjunction with the opening of Block 7 Wine Company. All three works were painted in oils on three very different surfaces re-purposed from the former warehouse.

The series includes:

1) Still Life with Ukulele # 1

20" x 24 3/4" x 4 5/8" oil on marble tiles magnetically mounted on metal drawers -- 30 lbs.

2) Still Life with Ukulele # 2

22 1/4" x 24" oil on corrugated metal

3) Still Life with Ukulele # 3

20 1/2" x 23" oil on canvas from discarded army cot stretched over a frame also made from the cot

All materials were salvaged from the warehouse except for the paints, magnets, chains and bolts.

All pieces are complete and ready to hang.

Bio

Having had no previous experience or training, the artist started painting in late 2004. A relative encouraged the new artist to display her first 30 works on Texas Independence Day in the Pioneer Log House Memorial Museum. However, it wasn't until November, 2006, that she started pursuing the making of art as a career. To that end, she has exhibited in several venues in Houston, including the Glassell Student Exhibit in the spring of 2007. She was asked to be a community artist juror for Yes Prep's Student Art Show, and has repeatedly been asked to be a select artist for the Center for Hearing and Speech's fundraiser, Via Colori. She spent her formative years in Mississippi, but attended high school and college in Hawaii. She met and married her husband in Aspen, Colorado, and they briefly lived in southern California before moving back to her husband's hometown of Houston. She and her family, which includes four daughters, have lived in Houston for 24 years in the East End, the Third Ward, and most recently the Rice U/Med Center area.

Though very passionate about painting, the artist is an equally passionate writer, and blogs regularly about the artistic process. Her blog can be accessed through http://sarahhazel.blogspot.com

16633 Days

2009-06-04T11:27:00.003-05:00

Apparently, that's how old I am today; 16633 days old. How many of these days have been used wisely? When the kids were little, every day seemed like I was making deposits into some sort of eternal account book. Even wiping a snotty nose seemed important and significant. But, a few days ago, my youngest daughter graduated from high school. Honestly, never in a million years would I have thought that I would be one of those moms who seemed stunned when the mom gig was up. But here I am. Feeling a little lost. and sad.

It's not like I have nothing to do. There's plenty to do. Good grief, there are 21 empty canvases in the studio waiting for something to happen. That's an eye opener....hadn't counted them until just now.

Last week I finished the back yard patio. While it's great to finally be done, it didn't make my innards do cartwheels like usual...that strong sense of accomplishment just wasn't there.

We live in this old house, and there are lots of handyman type projects always screaming for someone to pay attention to them. It's not like I'm not capable of doing the work; just lately, the screaming house has been ignored.

Speaking of screaming house, Hilary and Joy have almost convinced themselves that our house is haunted. For a while now, the TV has been turning on by itself. My explanation is that one of the neighbors has a universal remote. When whichever neighbor turns on their TV, it sometimes somehow reaches our TV as well....but Hilary and Joy aren't so sure. And then there's the possibility that this unidentified neighbor has figured out that their remote works on our TV, and is just messing with us, which, incidentally, is a very plausible theory. Once, while visiting my parents, who at the time lived in a cookie cutter house suburban area of Orlando, we just so happened to discover that my parents garage door opener also worked on two other neighbors' garage doors. Instead of a drive by shutting, we pulled out the big gun (garage door remote) for a drive by opening! Also, Hilary and Reese are convinced that they heard the ukulele playing itself a few weeks ago. My theory on that one is because I have been playing so much, a tune got stuck in their brains and was trying to sweeten their dreams...both of them...dreaming the same dream at the same time. (Cue Twilight Zone music) It could happen. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, I hear the stairs creak. I'll get up to see who went downstairs, but everyone is tucked all snug in their beds. My theory is that the house is adjusting it's belt loop after a long day of holding it's breath. Night is the time to put on elastic after sucking in the gut all day...and then breathing a deep creaky sigh of relief. The house, I'm talking about the house.

Back to the beginning, Reese and I knew going in that this parenting gig had a built in time frame. We've transitioned fairly well with the older three. (Right, daughters?) And I thought that I was prepared for the same healthy transition with Joy. But, when I went to James Avery to buy the last high school graduation gift, I realized that I was buying the last high school graduation gift. It's kind of a big deal. In this crazy life, I'll still have plenty to do now that we've all reached this milestone, but what am I going to do?

Year at the Museum

2009-06-01T15:23:00.005-05:00

Imagine, pick-your-price MFAH memberships, for any amount starting at $10. For one day only and four hours only, last Saturday, the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston offered Houstonians a chance to set our own price for a year long museum membership! Brilliant marketing. This is the epitome of a win win...the museum spreads goodwill to the community, the museum has a new list for continuing patronage, the new member is delighted to afford the opportunity, and voila! Everyone's happy.

Hundreds of Houstonians showed up to take advantage of the offer. First of all, we waited in this line. What isn't obviously apparent in this photo is that this line of people is a giant U, and this was just the outside line. At least it was a pleasant day with a line full of pleasant people.

Even though Houston is the fourth largest city in the United States, it never ceases to amaze me how small it is. While waiting in line, I ran into several friends, including these two sweeties. Sol, on the right, is my friend who forwarded an e-mail telling about, in her words, a *wowser of a deal* from the MFAH.

Finally, after 45 minutes or so, we made it to the inside line. It may seem silly to some, that all these years of living here, and loving the museum, that we've never become members. When it came right down to it, because the museum offers free admission on Thursdays, I couldn't seem to justify the added expense of membership to our already stretched family budget. But now...a year's worth of complete freedom to attend the museum any day of the week; a whole year at the museum; an entire 365 days (excluding Mondays and holidays, of course)...I can't begin to describe how thrilled I am. It was totally worth the wait (in line.) Even sweet, recent-high-school-graduate-daughter Joy, when she heard about our family membership, said, "tight," which, for a teenager, is a good thing.

All in the Family

2009-05-28T11:49:00.005-05:00

My little brother Stephen surprised us last weekend with a delightful impromptu visit. We picked him up from the airport at 8 on Saturday night, and had him back by 10 the next morning. In those 14 hours, we went to a birthday party, met some neighbors, saw Joy working at The Chocolate Bar, watched frogs swim in the garden pond, stayed up late visiting, got up early to see Reese's bees wake up, met some more neighbors, took silly photos, and still made it to the airport on time. It was totally worth every moment.

The Amazing Reese's and my daughter Hilary is temporarily an employee of the national government. She and her favorite manfriend, James, applied for and got jobs working at Canyon Lodge in Yellowstone National Park for the summer. James has decided to blog about their adventures (or misadventures) at Yogi's Place.

Hilary from Texas says,

"I mostly know people as their first name followed by 'from [insert home-state here].' This is because our name tags have our first names on top, and our state (or country) of origin on the bottom.

On our hike down to the canyon, which is super beautiful, I saw an Osprey nest with a mama bird in it. It was really hard to see, but there was a man there with a camera that had, like, super zoom lens or something and he let me look through it. The Canyon is unreal! Not literally, but it totally looks like it is a painted cover of a fantasy novel, or where the elves live."

Also, brother in law Bill has decided to chronicle his battle with recently diagnosed non-Hodgkin lymphoma. Read all about it on Bill's Blog. Bill is Reese's little sister Catherine's husband.

Out of Gas

2009-05-22T14:46:00.003-05:00

It's actually a little nerve wracking to start painting again after so long an absence. I'm hesitant to begin, and delicately apply the outline of a shape, an idea. Where do I go from here?

It doesn't help my fragile psyche that I just found another dead fish in the backyard pond. That's three dead fish in two weeks. Ugh. Rightfully so, I feel personally and morally responsible for these fish. How pathetic that I can't seem to find the right balance between plants, fish, and fountain to create a self contained water ecosystem. It's not rocket science.

Plus, at this moment, I'm hesitant to venture out in public for fear of catching something while my immune system is compromised. Again, how pathetic. The last two weeks before this one, I did the grocery shopping and ran a few errands. And the last two Fridays and Saturdays, I ran a fever. This week, except for tiny little things, I've been completely home bound, hoping hoping hoping that my immune system will recover. For the record, I hate being a recluse.

One of my friends sent me this in an e-mail:

I remember learning that after being ill one's energy levels can be compared to a gas tank in a car without a gas gauge. You get up in the morning thinking your tank is full and go full bore into something feeling pretty good and then all of the sudden you go around a corner and find you are flat on empty. No warning whatsoever. It was weird.

That's exactly how I feel, like I have a gas gauge that doesn't work.

On the brighter side of things, with all this down time, I'm constantly adding to my ukulele song repertoire. Some day, I'd like to try busking on a street corner. Put a hat out, strum the ukulele, sing a little, and see if I can earn enough money for supper. To this end, I can now play the chords to (and sing mumble) Freebird. Doesn't someone in the crowd always shout out, "Freebird!"? A small disclaimer, my ukulele version of Freebird, so far, is without the awesome three minute solo riff at the end of the song.

Name That Ukulele

2009-05-21T17:35:00.003-05:00

If B.B. King can name his guitar Lucille, then certainly this little bitty instrument deserves a name.

It's not exactly a contest, but if anyone has a name on the tip of their tongue that would be appropriate for an ukulele, by all means, please, let me know.

All My Lovin'

2009-05-18T15:47:00.004-05:00

As I moped around the house today trying to think of something to write, which, since this is largely a blog about artistic pursuit, and I've been sick and not painting, I couldn't think of a single thing to say. Then Reese suggested that we make a little video of me playing a song on the ukulele. These past seven weeks of illness and convalescence have provided both time and opportunity to learn a new trick, the ukulele. Hey, I'll be the first to admit that I can only think of two people in my life who will enjoy seeing this, but whatever. Life is full of risks and new adventures, right? So, before watching, a couple of disclaimers are in order. First of all, my voice is a little wonky because I'm still quite congested and cough-y. And secondly, I'm a newbie on the ukulele. That said, entertaining myself by learning to play has been the best thing EVER about this long bout of sickness. So, with little ado, here's one verse, a mere 36 seconds, of All My Lovin' by the Beatles. Please accept my advanced apologies for the amateur performance.

Yard Play

2009-05-12T10:47:00.003-05:00

Several years ago, I spent an inordinate amount of time in what I called yard play. It didn't seem fair to call it yard work as I thoroughly enjoyed being outside, digging, planting, weeding, pruning, landscaping, designing, planning, and watching things grow. One day, in the middle of said yard play, while talking to a friend on the phone, she asked, "You're not one of those crazy garden ladies with twigs in her hair, green stains on her clothes, and dirt forever under her nails, are you?" I had never thought of it before, but happily admitted that I was. The garden eventually started to fill in, and didn't need as much tending, except for an occasional whack job when some rogue plant grew beyond it's intended border. But, fairly recently, as our lifestyle and outdoor needs evolved and changed, it only made sense that the back yard warranted a new look. That's when Reese dug a huge hole for the fountain, and I started work on a new patio.

Originally, it was planned to have the entire patio finished by now, but this #@*%! lingering illness really threw life for a loop, and there just hasn't been a single drop of energy left to accomplish the goal. There is delight in the fact that slowly but surely, the backyard master plan is all coming together. The water lily in the above photo is one more completed piece of our Hazel backyard puzzle.

Some Mother

2009-05-11T14:18:00.006-05:00

"Never do for a child what he can do for himself." I think it's a quote from Susanna Wesley, though I've not been able to find proof, except for a fuzzy memory of a book read long ago.

The Amazing Reese and I took this to heart, and encouraged our daughters to have personal responsibility at as early an age as possible. For example, if they were coordinated enough to hold a toy and walk at the same time, they were certainly capable of holding their own diaper after it was changed, and throw it away.

My mom goal (or rather desire) was to raise healthy, mature, independent, emotionally well, fully functioning adults. Up to a certain age, we help them become THE whatever kind of people they are going to be. We, as moms and parents, have no control over how our offspring respond to us, or if they choose to grow, or if they even want to act like humans. We pray. We offer grace. We show mercy. We encourage (not nag.) But, we have no control over the outcome.

All that said, from the very beginning, I've loved the whole experience. My firstborn turned 24 yesterday (Mothers Day) and my youngest is 17. It's a privilege to have been chosen out of the entire universe to know and love these four beautiful (inside and out) young ladies.

So, thank you my sweet daughters. Thanks for all the great years as your mother, but best of all, now that we're all getting older, thanks for letting me be your friend.

Ode to Whooping Cough

2009-05-06T13:26:00.003-05:00

It's limerick time on this blog,
which happens when life is a fog
of chores left undone
(here's a horrible pun)
and swine flu becomes a news hog.

What happens when life is a mess?
Does one feel the need to confess
that watching TV
and eating (omg!)
a bonbon is life's only quest?

It's true I've been sick for a while,
much ado for a cough that on file
is hacking and wheezy
and even quite sneezy
and something I've come to revile.

Each day is a hope to be well,
completely on track for a spell
of excellent health
(akin to great wealth)
is a story I'm anxious to tell.

Yesterday, I went for a walk
with Hilary, my daughter, we talked
about this and that,
and then you know what?
It happened. I started to cough!

"NO FUN!" I cried, "When will this end?"
I thought I was turning a bend,
a fork in the road,
but my body, it showed
that it still needs some time left to mend.

So, that's what I'm doing today
lying low...keeping sickness at bay.
The best thing by leaps
and bounds and big heaps
is playing the ukulele.

For that I can do while I'm sick,
practice and learn a new trick;
new chords and new strumming,
perpetual humming,
uke playing...my new favorite kick!

Stand By Me

2009-05-04T14:18:00.002-05:00

Playing For Change | Song Around The World "Stand By Me" from Concord Music Group on Vimeo.

This totally made my day. Enjoy! I found it on The Jamjar.

Bee Kind

2009-04-27T14:07:00.003-05:00

The Amazing Reese is once again proving how amazing and Reese-like he is.

Life isn't always fun and games. The very monotonousness of the everyday had both Reese and me contemplating how to jump start passion for living. What were some of the things from life past that brought satisfaction and/or an amount of pleasure? For me, learning how to paint has been a deeply satisfying journey. Blogging about the process has been a double treat. I love writing probably as much as or more than painting. Reese, while being super supportive of my ventures (which includes enthusiastic praise and custom picture frames) had sort of fizzled out on the fun life scale.

Intense self evaluation must be the genesis of many a typical mid life crisis'. While reluctant to use the phrase mid life crisis, the term and meaning is real. Without intervention, the possibility (or probability) with regards to Reese for deep unhappiness was imminent. Remembering another lifetime, as a teenager, Reese thoroughly enjoyed helping his mom keep a hive of bees in their side yard.

That was a while ago. Then we had babies, and cars, and a house, and work, and work, and work....well, it's a typical scenario. Not to diminish the wonderfulness of sharing/raising a family, but some days it just feels like life is a giant sucking sound.

So in the last few months, Reese has rediscovered his joy of beekeeping. With some Christmas money, he bought himself a bee suit and some supplies. And just a couple of days ago, he launched this website to start what he and I both hope to be his new adventure. Last Saturday, he collected a bee hive and we were able to salvage several jars of honey (see accompanying photo)...not always possible with a wild hive. Also in the photo is a loaf of the fresh bread Reese has been baking for us, another of his delights from early married life. Reese even grinds the wheat berries to make this yummy bread. To bring everything full circle, Reese will use his own honey from his own bees to make his next batch of bread. Yum. I can hardly wait. Did I mention how amazing he is?

On the Mend

2009-04-23T14:52:00.004-05:00

Below is a ridiculously long list, in no particular order, of what happens when one is forced to be still in the endlessness of convalescence, and therefore watch movies. We've discovered Red Box, where for $1, one can rent from a wide selection of movies. It was great to have a relatively cheap source of entertainment. Of all the movies watched in the last three weeks of unwellness, the one that was the most powerful by far was The Boy in the Striped Pajamas.

There has also been ample time to mend (sew by hand) pillows, shirts, skirts, blankets, etc., practice the ukulele, and read a silly book.

Mostly though, I'm tired of being tired. I'm sick of feeling like I'm going to drown every time I cough. And honestly, I'm looking forward to resuming work type activities. It will happen soon enough....I'm definitely on the mend.

Regarding Freaky Friday, Joy has promised that if she and I ever switch bodies/places, she will not pierce anything on my behalf. I thanked her.

1. Murder by Death
2. Freaky Friday
3. Baby Mama
4. How to Lose Friends and Alienate People
5. Yes Man
6. Marley and Me
7. Slumdog Millionaire
8. The Boy in the Striped Pajamas
9. Rachel Getting Married
10. Role Models
11. Australia
12. What Just Happened
13. Priceless
14. Bedtime Stories
15. Faith Like Potatoes

Quest to Wellness

2009-04-17T10:15:00.003-05:00

This photo just about sums up life lately....one medicine after another on a quest to wellness. Earlier this week, I did venture to the studio to finish the art for the wine bar (due to open in early June.) After setting up the work space for about 15 minutes, I felt an urgent need to lay down and take a nap. The uncompleted project work area (mess) is all over the floor in the studio. Maybe I'll be up to tackling it later today...

7 Minutes

2009-04-14T11:16:00.001-05:00

Please take 7 minutes to watch this. It's totally worth it, I promise.

Eggs-tra

2009-04-12T20:05:00.002-05:00

About the only thing artistic that's happened around here lately is dyeing Easter eggs.

Joy mentioned that some of her friends might drop in mid-afternoon on Saturday, so I boiled a few extra eggs thinking that even teenagers would enjoy dyeing Easter eggs. Right? Alas, her friends never showed. And by the time Joy and I finally got around to decorating the eggs, Joy was feeling right cheeky. (We've both been convalescing and cooped up for days. During the time stuck at home, we've watched a LOT of movies. That's another phrase Mrs. Wolfe warned against...a lot.) With just the two of us at home, 18 eggs seemed like an almost overwhelming task to complete. Getting started, the first egg Joy decorated and dyed said, "Mom made EGGstra." Good grief. It probably took us two hours to finish these silly eggs. The best thing about that was that it was a very pleasant diversion from watching movies.

Also, a sad update on the firetruck wreck from a couple of weeks ago. The young lady who was hit while riding her bicycle passed away.