The First Happy Monday

I want to start out the year thinking good thoughts, so I am starting a new weekly post. On Mondays, to start out the week right, I will blog about something that makes me happy. This first Monday of 2010 I want to blog about books. In particularly art books.
I love getting a new book showcasing the artwork of others, especially mixed media arts. When I need inspiration they are always there for me to look through for ideas. Every artist should have at least a book on design and composition, as well as books in mediums that one does not use. Inspiration can be found there, too. Even though I am a painter and a mixed media artist, I find inspiration in pottery, papermaking, and printing.
My newest book was delivered on Christmas Eve from Amazon. It’s sort of a birthday present for myself. It is Creative Paint Workshop for Mixed Media Artists by Ann Baldwin. I love it. I have already gotten ideas from it. She’s a great artist.
So, going to go use some of those ideas now.
Later

A Little Forgotten Bowl

Sometimes things that we take for granted as being there are overlooked. Take this little bowl. I made it in the early eighties in an attempt at pottery. I figured out early that pottery was not for me, but I did manage this cute little bowl. I think it shows the beginning of the colors and shapes I would use later on, but when I made I really didn’t think about it much.

I have carried this bowl every place I have moved to since then (an astounding seven times). I placed it on my kitchen counter among an array on candles and used it as a catch all. Today I was cleaning off said counter and noticed the bowl in the light coming from the window. It was filled with stuff. Since I was cleaning I dumped the stuff out to see what was there.

Wow, memories. Let’s see…from top left…

A silver watch with rhinestones that my dad gave me. It’s just a tad too small and the battery is dead, but it is from my dad. He gave it to me the year before he died.

A small bottle of patchouli oil, bought to give me a sense of creativity (I have many of these strewed about the house).

A box of matches from July 4th (wow, what a great fireworks show in the neighborhood).

A river rock found on one of my “let’s clean out the river” excursions several years ago.

One of my favorite pair of earrings. (I wondered where they were.)

A set of toe rings (Forgot I had those).

A penny from the Bahamas (no idea where that came from. I have never been there. Love to go though).

One of my many anklets with bells for belly dancing (or just walking about the house tormenting the furry ones. Barney tries to pull them off me).

And in the middle one lone earring that my ex-fiancé bought me. (the mate was lost many, many, many moons ago).

Who could of imagined that a little forgotten bowl would of held so many memories.

To Hear A Mockingbird

Birdsong is a lovely thing, one that I have for some reason really never paid attention to. Today as I was getting out of my car after a particularly bad day at work full of drama I was struck by the sounds of a bird sitting in the cedar tree in my neighbor's yard (I think it has a nest there). It was amazing the range of sound coming from this lone bird. I sat down on my deck to listen to it as it warbled, chirped, tweeted, and chirred. Listening to that little bird made my bad mood slip away.

I looked it up later and found it was a mockingbird. The website I found to hear it's song had other birds and I spent the next hour listening to all of them. I never realized that I had heard all of these birds and just never listened to them. Worse yet, I use bird imagy in my artwork alot. I should know more about them.

There was the mourning dove and it's sweet cooing http://www.learnbirdsongs.com/birdsong.php?id=7, the blue jay with it's loud scolding http://www.learnbirdsongs.com/birdsong.php?id=5, the purdie purdie of the cardinals http://www.learnbirdsongs.com/birdsong.php?id=3, and many others. I think my favorite will be the mockingbird http://www.learnbirdsongs.com/birdsong.php?id=4. I was even entertained as said bird attacked a cat that got too close.

To say that I never listened to the birds around me, I spoke wrong. I have noticed the screech owl and whoopoowill on my nightly walks. They have both have been sadly silent these past few years. I hope that they have moved on and not fallen to a bad end. Oh, and of course, there is the ever present ravens in the autumn.

I think I'll go get some bird seed tomorrow and try to entice the little darlings into my yard.

Men, Tattoos, and Coffee Drinks

Our Ugly Pics

Mother’s Day has come and gone and now looking back at this past Sunday it really should have been called Sisters’ Day. Both of my sisters were down to visit with our Mom, but after about an hour Mom grew tired and went to rest and the various kids in the house (from my 9 year old niece to my 20 year old nephew) disappeared to do their own thing away from the prying eyes of grown-up. So us girls found our way out onto the porch to catch up. Catching up to us means discussing -the men in our lives, our brother in Florida (because he was not there to defend himself) and his weird messed up marriage, comparing our newest tattoos, checking out each others ring tones and pictures on our phones, and our favorite coffee drinks- among other things.

We really don’t live that far away-just an hour or two away from each other, but our lives keep us so busy we only get to see each other at holidays. I really love to be with Dianna and Angela and just talk, preferably at a Chinese restaurant.

It’s so funny how similar we are and yet how very different. Dianna is tall, brownish red hair and green eyed, has three girls, and works for the government. Hasn’t got a creative bone in her body. Only wants three choices when it comes to coffee drinks-iced, latte, or cappacino. Angela is tall, blond, and grey eyed. She has three boys, has a steady job as a dental technition, loves to do crafty things, wants only black coffee or a mocha fappacino, Me, I’mshorter than either of them, red haired and blue-eyed, no kids, a working artist, and I’ve tried about every drink at Starbucks and love hot tea.

But we are also the same as in we are into heavy metal music, have an addiction to tattoos, in love with Vin Desil ,and prefer cats over dogs.

Yeah, I miss my sisters when they are not here, but maybe it’s a good thing we don’t live closer to each other. I remember some of the fights we had growing up and the “heated discussions” we had as adults. Distance is good.

A Cold Snowy Day

Autumn In The South

It's images like these that make me glad I'm living in the Southern Appalachians.
http://www.southernliving.com/southern/features/special_sections/article/0,28012,1123013,00.html

Autumn Decorating

http://www.southernliving.com/southern/homes/0,13235,1854626-1,00.html

Autumn

Yea! It's finally Autumn. The weather is cooling down, even if it's a little rainy. I was standing on my porch last night and a wind came through, rattling the leaves off the trees in the woods behind my house. Seeing those yellow popular and crimson mable leaves fly across my yard just made my heart thump.

I love Fall.

This time of the year I can ride down the road and see peoples little autumn vignettes set up in their yards featuring the hay bales, corn stalks, scarecrows, mums and pumkins. I guess I like this season because it features all my favorite colors-reds, golds, oranges, and black. I just get giddy when I pass a corn field or a pumkin sale or a greenhouse covered in mums. And the sky is the color blue that can be seen only in Autumn.

And now that it is October it's time to think Halloween, my second favorite holiday. Yes, it's only one day, but the whole month is really deciated to the human love of being scared out of our wits. In a fun way. And it all accumalates on October 31st when our kids go out in search of sweets in all their cute costumes. Then they bring it home for us to go through and hunt out the chocolate....I mean bad candy.

And yes, I am already thinking ahead to Christmas. As well as the stores. I swear I've seen christmas decorations and supplies in some stores.

Damn.

Thoughts On Traffic, People, And Issues

I had gone to town late this afternoon and on my way home I realized something. Everyone growls about having to wait in traffic, but really doesn't bother me. I was sitting in my car, heavy metal blaring from my radio, sipping on a caramel fappicino from Starbucks, my windows down with the smells drifting in from all the various restraughts along the street. And I was happy. I loved this time of day. And I people watched. A favorite past-time of mine.
All around me I could see other drivers either on their phones, frowning at the traffic lights, talking with their passangers. Most looked harried, distracted, bored, unhappy. The stress levels around there must of been very high. I was thinking, like, chill, people. No need to get all hot and bothered. Just sit back and enjoy the ride, like me. Keep the blood pressure down. You'll get home eventally.
I try not to get stressed over anything. Stress causes medical problem. Don't need anymore of that.
People who don't really know me think that I don't care. Those that do know me know that's not the case. I just refuse to let issues rule my life. (and sometimes I really DON'T care.)
Back to the traffic. As bad as it is now, wait until the holiday shopping begins. I'm planning on shopping online, but I think I will go ride up and down the main streets just to watch the dramas. Woowhoo!

A Dreary Sunday-A new poem

Alone I sit in my house,
only a snap and crackle from the fireplace
to relieve the silence.
An extra large Lazyboy envelopes my body,
my sleeping cats my only companions,
the smell of freshly made dark roast coffee
along with the heavy perfume of roses in a vase
premeates the air,
a chilly drizzle is coming down outside,
but inside I am wrapped in an old sweater.
It smells faintly of pipe smoke and old navy,
and memories of my grandfather.
What is that sound that I hear...
a flock of geese fly by overhead,
their calls break the silence for a moment.

Thursday Quiz-The Priority Test

What's Important to You... And What Isn't:

For you, sex is usually your number one priority. You find getting things done to be incredibly stressful. You don't like having things to do. Your most important priorities get your attention. You are happily able to let the less important things slide. You want thinking to be a high priority, but you don't take enough time for yourself.

The Priority Test

I Love This Song

I really dig this song and am so glad There is a video for it now. Check it out!

Bury My Lovely

A Nice Video

Inuyasha AMV - The Other Side of Time


I'm not really into this stuff, but I thought the video was well done and I love this song.

The Honeysuckle Incident

I shut off the vac. In the absence of it's industious roar I could hear the squeals of little boy delight and the screams of abject terror. Sighing deeply I left off the never ending housework when there are childern around. I went out onto the porch, stepping over my black chow Pudgin (don't ask), and looked up just in time to see one of my nephews, Patrick, careen around the corner of the house, his face pale and tears in his eyes. Behind him in hot pursuit came his four year old baby brother, Dalton, giggling that evil laugh that you only hear in a Stephen King movie. He had something in his hand raised up as if to throw it at his fleeing brother.
Pat rushed up the steps and hid behind me.
"What is going on out here?"
"Dalton's trying to kill me!" Pat wailed. "He's throwing honeysuckles on me."
I looked at the white blond-haired, big blue eyed mini demon in front of me and saw that in his hand he indeed held a tiny honeysuckle blossem. The wooded area behind my house was covered in them.
Normally the throwing of honeysuckle blossems would not matter, but recently we found out that Pat was allergic to the nectur inside. He had sucked it out along with his brothers last summer and blew up like he had been bee stung. Which resulted in a trip to ER, many doctor visits, and shots. Understandably he was very paranoid about honeysuckles.
"Dalton, why are you chasing your brother with that?"
"Fun!"
I shuddered. I swear Dalt sounded just like that kid off of Pet Semetery.
"Dalton, sweetie, I want you to find something else to entertain yourself besides terrorizing your brother."
"No!"
Why is it that that is the first word every child learns first?
"Do it or you will come inside for a nap."
He started to cry.
"Don't want nap." He stomped his little dirty feet. "You're mean. Going tell my mommy."
"Yeah, right. I'm shaking in my flip-flops."
He stomped his foot again, threw down the blossem as if to make a dent in my porch, and ran off toward the swingset, Pudgin right behind him.
"What if he does it again?" Pat said, sniffling.
I looked at the red-headed eight year old. Time to nip this paranoria in the bud, pun intended.
"Patrick, did Dalton force you down and stick the honeysuckle in your mouth"?
"No."
"Did the honeysuckle spit evil sweet-smelling goo at you?"
"No..."
"Did the blossem sink little teeth into your skin to suck out your blood?"
He just stared at me.
"Then I don't think you'll fall over dead if a honeysuckle should hit your skin. Now, go play-quietly-while I finish the housework."
He shuffled off the porch and headed in the other direction from Dalt. Somehow, though, I knew was not the end of this. I fully expected to be back out here breaking up another fight within the hour.
As I turned to go back inside my eyes landed on their older brother, Cory.
"Why didn't you stop this?"
He shugged.
"I knew it wouldn't hurt him and it was fun to watch."
I let out an aspirated sigh and headed back in with a slam of the screen door.
And it was only alittle after ten am.

My Dark Angel

a coppery red moon
hangs low in a midnight sky
you stand in the darkness
beneath a crimson canopy
where October's chill breeze
sings a dry mournful song
and lifts your night black hair
your piercing grey eyes
stare from your pale face
I know your kiss
death cold yet burning
turning my soul to ash
my dark angel
with broken wings.

Blue Plum Festival

So, the Blue Plum Festival was this weekend and alot of fun is was. Every year they close down east main and east market streets to showcase lots of art, food, and music on the streets. This year was just as great with the addition of a jazz stage in front of Nelson's art center. I love jazz. There was also celtic music, blugrass, and outlaw country. The food court held booths for funnel cakes, hot dogs, hamburgers, fried potatos rings, thai food, greek, and just plain southern cooking. There was a childern's area for games and free ice cream. The galleries had their openning for the month with Nelson's showcasing sculture and the Signature had artwork from four of our female area artists. The stores lining the streets also were having specials during the fest. The artists with booths had everything from paintings, frabic art, woodcuts, jewelry, pottery, handmade candles and soaps, to bonsai trees.

It was hot as hell-in the mid ninties and humid, but it was crowded as usual, even for early evening.

I really wanted to have a booth myself this year, but my little hospital stay last year put me back financially. Maybe next year I'll be able to have my booth.

God's Pallet

Deep Autumn blue
seen through rustling leaves
my heart sings with joy
at the song of the breeze
God's pallet surrounds me
crimson reds, deep oranges,
bright yellows, deep greens
shadowy purples and blues
dry leaves crackle
under my dancing feet
the scent of life fills me
all is well with my soul

Heated Nights

Let me follow you, Beloved,
into the shadowy places.
Keep me safe within your arms
all through the heated night
upon a bed of cool sheets
covered with blood red rose petals.
Take me to impossible heights
with your hot kisses
and let me fall into
the velvet blackness of your eyes.

A Summer Poem

wings aglitter in the late sunlight
a dragonfly hovers over the pond
a breeze whispers through the willows
emerald green water ripples softly
cicadas sound out their mating calls
sweet honeysuckles overtake a broken swing
ghostly laughter barely heard
in the fading summer light

A Poem-Machu Picchu Dance

I dream of dancing under a full summer moon
among the mighty stone ruins of Machu Picchu
to the wild music of the high places
and ghostly whispers of pipes and drums