Random Creature

Random watercolor marks will eventually a creature make. So many steps to enhance and define, I won't take you through them one by one.

Just Wa-la! My first creature.

Scribbling

Who knew scribbling could be so much fun? One of the warm-ups in the class this week was scribbling. My immediate thought was, Oh no. It just seemed so silly, so not me. We were supposed to scribble an animal. But when my computer crashed at work and I was sitting, watching, waiting on the tech guy to deal with it, I started scribbling. It's a very freeing type of "art." I can see it could be totally addictive.

After the Hiatus

Every time I go weeks without blogging, I start to question what it is I've been doing. Hasn't there been anything worth writing about? What have I been thinking about? Haven't there been any thoughts to explore? My goal right now is to have one thing, one picture, one quote, one thought, one something that speaks for the day.

Right now, I'm enrolled in Carla Sonheim's Dog Days of Summer online art camps. I love her work. I love taking a class where the imperfections are the art. This is a first for me, taking an online class, and it's giving me just the right amount of structure and commitment. Each class is only five days and I've signed up for three, back to back, so for the month of August I'm committed.

The first day was about one line animals, drawing only from memory, no references. Here are a few of my one-line elephants. It's harder than you think, drawing from memory. I cheated on one and looked at a picture. But you know what? I think the memory ones have more personality!

Indie Businesses

I like supporting independent businesses as opposed to chains when I can, especially when they rock! I panicked the other day when I finally realized that about the only book store in town is Barnes & Noble. No longer are those little book shops on the corner. Amazon has done away with them.


Coffee shops are somewhat different in that they still exist and won't be replaced by online businesses. I love Starbucks and all it offers, but the absolute best latte in Tulsa comes from an independent shop called Cafe Cubana. So dreamy, so creamy, and it comes with a little design on the top. Even their machine is great! What a cadillac! You won't see this at Starbucks!

Blowing in the Wind

I went to church this morning and as I got out of my car, I saw something that I hadn't seen in such a long time. Items on a clothesline, blowing in the wind. Wow, did that take me back. Hanging out the wash and bringing it in was a simple rite of passage for me. A lot like getting to iron the pillowcases and handkerchiefs. It makes me wonder what today's equivalent is for girls, say, 5 and 6 years of age.

I can remember feeling so proud, so big, "getting" to help with the laundry at age 5. How I loved standing on the 55 gal. barrel turned on its side, balancing and putting clothespins on the small items. (That barrel is another story. The best backyard "equipment" ever!)

One night when I was watching Lucy, we were looking for something in her mom's cosmetic bag. Lucy pulled out the eyelash curler, held it up and said with such longing in her voice, "I've been waiting my whole life to use this." She was 4.

I wonder what else is on her "bucket" list.

Weeds

In two short weeks, my flower beds and garden areas have grown wild. The heat has supercharged the things that could stand it and has intimidated everything else. The delphiniums, early on so brilliantly blue, are gone for the season. The daisies are in fine form but the cone flowers fight a strangling wild vine for breath. The area around St. Francis that was so clean and calm is now a nest of messiness. Tall grasses and wild seeds fill empty spaces and I feel overwhelmed and exhausted just sitting and looking out it. On top of everything, it's hot. And by hot, I mean really hot. I mean Africa hot. Three showers a day hot. Ugh.

Just two weeks ago, I felt such optimism for my gardens. Now I don't know where to start. In many ways, I feel as if my life resembles my garden. My art supplies are still in boxes and plastic tubs. My work space is messy and cluttered. My diet and exercise routine are in shambles. Two short weeks. A weed here, a weed there. And it's out of control. Sometimes it's not even a weed. It can be something beautiful that is in the wrong spot. Wrong place, wrong time.

My garden may have become overgrown in two weeks, but my art weeds have been longer in the making. I don't know exactly why I lost myself. I can look back and see when I stopped writing, when I stopped creating. I just don't know why. Maybe it doesn't matter. I seem to think it matters because surely if I understand it, I can undo it. If I understand it, I can learn how to weed my life.

Good-bye Pia Toscano

I'll admit it. I'm an American Idol fan. And I totally predicted last night's shocker. America said good-bye to Pia Toscano. For those non-fans, Pia is a beautiful young woman with the perfect body, spectacular voice, great hair. She has everything going for her -- everything except that connection with her audience. The judges kept telling her to break through her barriers and to own the stage, but she was more comfortable standing behind the microphone singing her heart out. Her notes were perfect, her appearance was perfect, but I felt nothing when I listened to her.

So, I started thinking about connection and how do you get that energy that exists between two people. When I can relate to someone about their problems, their happiness, their dreams and failures, I'm likely to call it a connection. I've always been so hard on myself, expected so much from myself, wanting to do things right, and yet, when I struggle with life and am okay about admitting it, that's when I feel more connected with people, and they with me. There's a blessedness in vulnerability. There's something liberating about embracing our imperfections.

Pia will probably get a recording contract anyway and maybe Jennifer Lopez will teach her to dance. She needs to rock that beautiful body. She needs to worry less about being perfect and concentrate on being free.

At least, that's what I'm going to do.

Ah, Those Smells

I was out for a brisk walk this morning and as I cut through the parking lot of the private school nearby, and passed employees just arriving and walking to their building, the thought that floated through my mind was "I miss working in an office or a building where people arrive smelling of fresh soap and cologne. I miss people having that bit of purpose in their step." Even my office when I'm working isn't like that. I have to go back too many years to relive that memory.

I wonder if men wear cologne anymore. There's enough of it sold, but I never notice anyone wearing it. Maybe I'm just not around men who do. Maybe it's a young thing. Maybe young men in heat wear it. Maybe men don't know the power they wield in a very small bottle.