Wednesday, May 26, 2010

How are you?

 Some new belts, reversible and embroidered. 
Lovin' my sewing machine and all it's bells and whistles.

If you were one of the two people that read my last post (thanks, Mom and Alison), then you may recall that I said I was gonna take the summer easy. That would be AFTER my first week of up-and-at-'em's, go-get-'ems and let's hop to it's. In keeping with that short-lived theme, I was up at 4:30am this morning and out the door running by 5.
 ...look who's been cooking! And by "cooking", I mean tearing open a box of something, throwing it in a bowl with some butter and zapping it in the micro. Just like Grandma used to make!

This is probably where I should explain my definition of "running". Imagine a tired toddler chasing after a deflated ball and you've got me. So why not call this "jogging"? Because that would be a stretch. It's more like jalking. Anything to prevent the onset of sweat and the burning of calories, says me.
 I am very excited to now be in the What's In Store! Thank you, Rebecca!

I swear I was going somewhere with this, it's just taking me a while. Kinda like me jalking. Anyway, while I was out this morning, I encountered a real runner who, when passing me by at  break neck speed, asked the age old question: How are you? 
 To celebrate the end of the school year, we had a Art/Yay-the-Kids-Are-Gone party at my house last week. These masterpieces were created by some undiscovered talents -- amazing!

I paused before answering this question. To really ponder it. Or maybe to catch my freakin' breath. It was then that I realized that my initial response to this question is usually either something negative or sarcastic. But since I hardly had enough wind to breathe, let alone complete a sentence, I managed a "Fine, you?"
My quilt-a-holic music teacher friend created this one.

Okay, I have to tell you, this dude was old. Like, white hair, running outfit from the 1970's, more wrinkles than my clothes on any given day: OLD. So when he responded "I am terrific. It is a great day!", I thought, well of course you think the day's great, you don't have very many of 'em left.
These ladies are so creative and willing to try anything new. My friend Jeni came up with a different technique and took the project to another level. But she's like that...

Then I thought harder (after which smoke and a burning smell soon followed) and realized why didn't I think the day was great also? The sun was just rising, there was a wonderful combination of warm air and cool breeze, my day's agenda consists of visiting a friend, shopping and packing for a trip: What's not great about that? 
 Taking this guy to Nashville Clothing Company today. Another amazing shop!

Even if my to-do list was less interesting, shouldn't I regard every day as Grrr-eat (yes, I just channeled Tony the Tiger)? I'm gonna try. Which shouldn't be too much of a stretch for the next couple of months. Ask me again on August 4th and we'll see what kind of answer I come up with!

Sunday, May 16, 2010


Summertime in the Sixties
  Clockwise starting with the blurry laughing lady: Grandma Marilyn, Grandpa John (who appears to be tweaking my grandma), Uncle Keith, Aunt Donna, my mother (guess who I inherited my big mouth from) and my Aunt Lottie in the middle.

I'm down to the hours before my summer vacay begins. I absolutely cannot wait. The first week off from school, I'm always so gung ho: waking up early, scratching items off my to-do list, cooking, cleaning, yard working. By the second week, that's all pretty much ended and I slide into my summertime routine.
 Mom getting her belly rubbed by Grandma while it looks as though someone's about to cool off my Grandpa. I would love see a Part 2 to this photo as my drenched Grandpa chases after who I assume was my Uncle Keith.

My real summer routine involves sleeping in, eating ice cream at least twice daily, reading trashy Brit-chic novels and thrifting. Every school year I day dream of all of the things I am going to accomplish during the summer and every summer I manage to do a whole lotta nuthin. But this summer is gonna be different.
Summertime in the Seventies
Left to right: Me, Cuz Angie, Aunt Judy. My Grandpa Eddy made our dining table and chairs. I love the red wagon and the Sit -n- Spin in the background.

And when I say "different" it's not because I plan to change or improve or actually do something about my lack of accomplishment. I plan to embrace the laziness. Love it. Wrap my arms around it and squeeze it. I mean, it's what summer is all about, right? At the end of every summer, I always beat myself up over not accomplishing this or that. Not any more.
Summertime in the Eighties
My Grandma Marilyn and Grandpa Eddy (her second hubs after G-pa John) took the three of us girls to Florida almost every summer growing up. She sent this postcard to mom.
My Grandma loved Florida...and I love that she signed the postcard "Florida People". I miss those summers with her.

My to-do list is going to involve the following: catching up with friends, watching some old movies (Hitchcock, preferably)  and eating deep fried snack foods with reckless abandon because they are delicious. Oh, and doing silly stuff with cat hair. For this, hubs and I decided to get a jump-start...
Um, yeah. That's all Asha hair. She's been shedding (and hairballing) like madness lately, so Mitch decided to give her a little brushing. We're planning on opening our own Troll Doll factory.

Needless to say, Asha was not impressed with our creative endeavor. I can read her kitty-cat mind: Boy, it's gonna be a long summer.

Sunday, May 9, 2010

Love these Masterpieces to Pieces

Oh, look, the Johnson Tiger threatening your life if you don't attend our art show. Apparently this kid went to the Hannibal Lecter School of Advertising. I'd do what this tiger says. I mean, he's already devoured part of his arm..."with some fava beans and a nice chianti..."

Well, I can finally breathe now. The school wide art show is oh-ver. With the help of the most incredible teachers, parents and support staff, Miniature Artist Masterpieces were masking taped, sticky- and thumb-tacked to every surface of the school. In fact, stand in one place too long and you were certain to get something stapled to your forehead.
Fourth grade self-portraits and woven pouches. I cannot get these kids to stop weaving! I've even got a few that are on their 5th pouch and plan to open up their own Pouch Stand this summer (because lemonade stands are sooo 3rd grade). Though I think we need to work on that name...Pouch Palace? Plaza de Pouch?

With the headache and heartbreak the flood brought us, it was nice to have something to cheer us. Not only did we host an Art Show but also an Ice Cream Supper (yes, I said "supper" as that's how we roll at our school. "What do you mean you didn't finish your hot fudge sundae?! No brussel sprouts for you, young lady!"). So, high as a kite on sugar, thus making the artwork even brighter and happier, we had an excellent evening. Here's just a few highlights I managed to capture...
Second grade collage self-portrait.
 Group of second grade masterpieces...
Third grade tapestry weaving with scratch art frame...
Third grade gallery of gorgeous.
Unfortunately, I was so busy chatting it up with my miniature Picassos, I didn't get any photos of my kinder and first grade friends artworks. Boo, bad art teacher. However, I did manage to snap this one the day after the art show. Can you believe it -- we're still creating! And, from the looks of this painting, we're STILL HIGH ON SUGAR!
Thanks to all for another great art show, couldn't do it without you.

Sunday, May 2, 2010

Here Comes the Rain Again

Art Night Posse: mixing paints after consuming mixed drinks. 

There are a lot of people who want to make art. They want to paint, draw, scuplt in clay, experiment. But for some reason, they rarely do. Somewhere along the line, folk became convinced that you had to know what you're doing before doing anything. The thing is, how do you learn how to do something if you've never tried it? Nobody is born just knowing how to create. Well, I take that back. There's van Gogh. But that dude chopped off part of his earlobe. So there's that.
There was a lot of laughing and singing during our creative process (the music teacher was among us). Thankfully, there were only a few tears. And that was when we ran out of margarita mix.

A while back some of us began kicking around the idea of an art night. When mentioned, my work buddies got very excited but then quickly colored their enthusiasm with "but I don't know how to paint". So? It's just for fun, says me. If you don't like what you make, you paint over it. Let's just play. 
 I have to confess, after two years in an intense painting program, I felt the same sense of paralysis. The thing that got me out of that was to stop taking myself so seriously. To have fun. Let loose. And I knew the ladies were doing that when one of them said, "Oh, I love it! I just love what I am making!" We all looked up to see her beaming like one of my kindergarten kids. That (and the margaritas) pretty much made my night. 
 And then this happened...

The rain started to fall late Friday night. It has not let up since. In fact, right now it's sheeting against our windows and Mitch is checking for leaks. Just about everything is underwater: houses, highways, bridges, you name it. I have never seen anything like it. I've got The Eurythmics "Here Comes the Rain Again" and Kenny and Dolly's "Islands in the Stream" songs stuck on permanent loop in my head.
Photo Mitch snapped just outside out neighborhood. Roads outside my 'hood were closed due to a mudslide.

We are okay, sitting with electricity and out of water's way, unlike most folk. Speaking of water, we were without for almost 24 hours, which is kind of ironic, given the surplus of water surrounding us. There are a lot of people no where near as fortunate. I know that I am not alone in thinking of them.