Posted in Southernisms

Housewifery Holiday

“Do you want to go walking earlier Monday?”  The text came from my exercise partner and BFF.  (Can you use that term when you’re over 50?)  She spends her days solving complex problems in a research laboratory.

“Earlier???  Off tomorrow?”  I’ve lost track of holidays.

“YES.”  She must think I’m nuts to forget Labor Day.  The unofficial end of Summer.

“Mmmmm….Off from work.  Must be niiiice.”  I texted back with subtle sarcasm.  I had just returned home from yet another grocery store run.  Parking in the driveway I winched at the uncut grass.  This is the week to do yard work.

“Speak to your HR dept.”  She smirked back.  Who says scientists don’t have a sense of humor?

 “My HR dept is taking a nap with an orange cat lying on his belly.  I’ll just check my employee handbook.”  Who says housewives don’t have a sense of humor?

Its a good thing too!  If I had an employee handbook the HOLIDAYS/VACATION section would have one entry:  PUT ANOTHER LOG ON THE FIRE.

I recently heard this titled Country Western novelty song the end of a long day of Housewifery – Laundry, Ironing, Meal Prep, General House Keeping.

It was evening.  I was wrapping up chores: gassing up the SUV, checking tire pressure – after visiting 2 gas stations to find a working air pump – delivering clothes to the dry cleaners and shopping at two grocery stores.  On the way home I was bemoaning the fact that the task of unloading and putting away groceries still awaited me.  But then this song came on the radio.

Laughed waaaay too much!  Good thing I was alone in the car.

So to all my working sisters – kick back, enjoy your day off.

I just might join you and spend the day making art!♥

 

FULL DISCLOSURE: My hubby is nothing like Tompall Glasser’s song.  I am the “kid sister” and he has taken me fishin’ – once. HA! HA!

 

 

Advertisements
Posted in SKETCHES

The Cat

THE INSPIRATION: I recently posted Claire the Cat’s somewhat apologetic letter to a little girl.  If you are new to this blog, you may want to read Claire’s backstory: Claire the Cat .  Want to read more posts about her?  Type “cats” in the search bar.

Clair_2017

THE CHALLENGE:  Animals move.  Cats move a lot.   Unless they are taking one of their daily 12 1/2 naps.  So one would think that would be the best time to sketch a cat.  Not for this artist’s model!  Evidently the scratching sound of charcoal on paper was enough to awaken and annoy Claire the Cat.  Who promptly walked away to find respite in her favorite human arms.

I followed.  Tried sketching again.  To no avail.  And had to resort to photography.  Claire the Cat was not pleased – as evident in finished piece.  Oh the paparazzi!

THE SKETCH: A tiny 5 1/2″ x 3 1/2″ ACEO piece.  Pastels and watercolor wash.

THE TAKEAWAY: The artist’s eye can see sense emotion better than any camera!  I’m going to try again when Claire is in a happier mood – perhaps a more wakeful moment.

 

 

Posted in Southernisms

Because Cats Can’t Write

Me-I-ow will not scare tiny people who visit my hoomans.

Me-I-ow will not scare tiny people who visit my hoomans.

Me-I-ow will not scare tiny people who visit my hoomans.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

 

Me-I-ow will not scare tiny people who visit my hoomans.

Me-I-ow will not scare tiny people who visit my hoomans.

Me-I-ow will not scare tiny people who visit my hoomans.

.

Dear Little Girl,

 I am sorry I scared you when you came to my house to pee.  You were standing between me and the front door to FREEDOM.  I was just trying to escape.  It wasn’t about you.  It was about me.  My female hooman wanted me write a sentence lots of times to show you how sorry I am.  But cats can’t write.  So she wrote them for me.  And gave you a toy dog to play with.  I hope we can be friends anyway.

Sincerely,

 Claire the Cat

Me-I-ow will not scare tiny people who visit my hoomans.

Me-I-ow will not scare tiny people who visit my hoomans.

Me-I-ow will not scare tiny people who visit my hoomans.

Me-I-ow will not scare tiny people who visit my hoomans.

Crying Baby Image Credit: Freeimages.com/Jeff Osborn

 

Posted in GARDENING, Southernisms

A Memory Garden

Dear Mr. Garden Guy,

Do you remember the day I had to hide Momma’s yard tools?

A few years earlier we had finally convinced my then 84 year old mother to stop cutting her own grass. “Convinced” is a nice way of saying my brother took her push mower away for servicing and never brought it back.  Over the next couple of years, I took over her yardwork.   Momma, not satisfied with my loose interpretation of hedge trimming would redo her bushes wielding the most dangerous looking pair of clippers you ever want to see in the hands of an unsteady octogenarian.

Thoughts of a horrid implement haunted family, friends and neighbors.

fi-clippers
Freeimages.com/garden clippers

So I hid her tools.  An assortment of handheld clippers, hoes and rakes made their way to my house.  I told you about it Mr. Garden Guy.  We both felt sad that an avid gardener could no longer enjoy her work.

Then one day her neighbor pulled me to the side:

“Yo momma been outside cuttin’ them bushes again.”  She said in a concerned whisper.

“What?!  Bbbut I..I… took all her tools!”  I stammered in disbelief.

“Well she was.  An’ she had a pair of long, rusty lookin’ clippers.  I think they must have been yo daddy’s.”  The neighbor’s testimony rang true.

My stepdad had been dead for decades.  It never occurred to me that some of

fi-nate-brelsford
Freeimages.com/Nate Brelsford

Richard’s tools may still be around.  Momma never threw away anything.

It took me a while but finally – on the backporch, under the chaise, in a crate, inside a wooden box – a plethora of ancient handtools.  Found and removed.

Miss. Daisy was not pleased.

Today, age is beginning to slow me down.  One day someone will take away my tools.  And Mr. Garden Guy I’ll miss growing my veggies, canning my pears and cutting my grass.

Foreseeing such a time,  I’ve begun a “memory garden” afghan.

Rows of simple granny squares echo my gardening process.  Starting with brown and black squares symbolizing the composted soil. Then seed.  More colorful squares – reds, yellows, greens and even purples- flowering and fruiting.

The afghan’s rows repeat like the rhythm of the seasons. Its an ongoing project.  Finished only when it is big enough, warm enough to hold all my cherished gardening memories.

Vegetables Credit: Freeimages.com/Michael & Christa Richert
Posted in CRITTERS ETC., Southernisms

Sewing With Claire the Cat

This is Claire the Cat.

img_0053She is head of quality control at ArtReach.  A perfectionist, she can be overly critical of my sewing skills.  And remains unimpressed with my use of a vintage Singer machine.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Under Claire’s watchfulness I’ve made a  variety of items including those microwavable heat therapy pillows everyone loves so much.  The slides feature material used to make a pillow inspired by van Gogh’s Starry Night.   My completed work met Claire’s approval. Yay!  I’m thinking of adding an “Inspected by Claire the Cat” Q.C. label.

Posted in HEALTH & WELLNESS, Southernisms

If It Ain’t Broke…

“You must have some symptoms.  What are your symptoms?”  My friend  pressed me.   Carolyn works in a medical research lab.  She wanted facts, statistics.  Sure I had been running a slight fever.  No.  I didn’t check my temperature.  It had been hard for me to concentrate.  No.  I can’t really account for my lack of focus.  My responses were too vague for her – as what often happens  when an artsy fartsy is besties with a research scientist.

“Oh well.  You just can’t deny science.” She said with finality.

The beginnings of an infection had showed up microscopically in the yearly lab work requested by my GYN office.   I had none of the classic symptoms of the infection peculiar to us ladies.  Nevertheless One Pill was prescribed to nip it in the bud.  Pun intended.

Days had passed since the lab work was requested.  And I was still symptom-free.  The prescription was ordered and picked up on a Friday.  I didn’t want to ruin my weekend by unnecessary suffering when I could just swallow One Pill.

At this point I wish I could tell you that medical science saved the day.  But then it wouldn’t be fodder for this post.  Shortly after taking the One Pill I became the poster child for its side effects.

capsule-1321345
Freeimages.com/Yenhoon

 

 

 

  • Disturbing Dreams
  • Agitated Sleep
  • Itchy, crawly skin
  • Excessive Thirst

And that’s for starters on Friday night.

  • Low energy
  • Taste problems
  • Generally not feeling well

Yes!  Relief Saturday morning and into Sunday

  • Muddled thinking
  • Excessive sleeping

TGI-Monday and Tuesday!

Experts say that it takes about 7 days for the One Pill to get out of your system.  Can’t wait until Friday again.  Until then, I’m drinking lots of water to flush my system out.  Yes.  Pun intended again.

LESSON LEARNED

True science, like my true friend Carolyn, will always have a place in my life.  HOWEVER I will first trust what my body is telling me.  I will give my body a chance to heal itself.  And above all –

If it ain’t broke, don’t break it!

 

Featured image credit: Freeimages.com/Jean Scheiljen

 

 

 

Posted in FAMILY LORE

An Old Farmer’s Tale

Summer afternoons shelling peas with my stepfather Richard was a time for both work and storytelling.  His tales rooted deep in the South added a sympathetic rhythm to the endless flow of purple hulls.

Richard was born in 1902.  He was 74 years old when Momma married him.  I was fascinated by this old “farmer” 24 years my Momma’s senior.  Richard, who had long given up his chickens, still kept a large vegetable garden and a few fruit trees.  He was an expert pea-sheller, fruit canner and storyteller.

This one of his fables.

There was an old farmer who worked his fields every day – even on the Lord’s Day when he should’ve been restin’ and readin’ the Good Book.  Before the sun grew too hot, the old farmer with his faithful little dog trottin’ by his side would hitch up Joe the mule.  Shoutin’ “Git up!  Git up! Git up Joe and lets go a-plowin’!”  and the three of them – the farmer, his little dog and old Joe – would be off to work another long day in the fields.  Day after day, year after year the farmer demanded “Git up!  Git up! Git up Joe and lets go a-plowin’!”  Yes even on the Lord’s Day.  But early one Sunday morn when the farmer shouted “Git up! Git up!  Git up Joe and lets go a-plowin’!”  Joe slowly turned to the farmer and said:

“Every day you shout ‘Git up!  Git up!  Git up Joe and lets go a-plowin’!’ Even an old mule needs to rest sometime!”

FI Bethan Hazell
Freeimages.com/Tommy Bear

Well on hearing the animal speak his mind, the farmer reeled backwards and fell to the ground!  Shakin’ up from the shock, the farmer mumbled to himself “Well in all my born days I never knew a mule could talk.”

To which his faithful little dog replied “Me neither!”

Posted in HEALTH & WELLNESS, Southernisms

American Grocery List

Reblogged from tricksterchase.com. Thanks Elan Mudrow for a fun, satirical list that many of us have had a part in!

For a “Senior Moment” Stop at #6. Pay for groceries. Drive gas-guzzling SUV back home, ignoring that nagging feeling that you forgot something. Once home, remember #7. Drive back to store. Complete rest of steps. Return home too exhausted to publish original content on personal blog. Reblog someone else’s creative post. Whew! Thanks again Elan!

 

Elan Mudrow

218ddf3e2a7d94f6ddb4ff0f2369a352

  1. Broccoli
  2. Carrots
  3. Romaine Lettuce
  4. Avocado
  5. Spinach
  6. Mary’s Virgin Olive Oil
  7. Dave’s Corporate Fiber Bread
  8. Weightwatchers scammy little peanut chipotle BBQ tempeh tenders
  9. Red Wine, preferably under ten dollars
  10. Soy curly fries
  11. Buy a salad, premade, in a plastic bag
  12. Put back the broccoli, carrots, lettuce, and spinach
  13. Buy Wishbone Blue Cheese Ranchy-like chunky salad dressing
  14. Buy Tony’s Frozen Pizza with cheese inside the crust, topped with exotic free-range animal meat
  15. Put back the Weightwatchers in the “Unhealthy” frozen section that for some strange reason needs to be separate from the “healthy” frozen section. The only determining factor is price.
  16. Buy Jo Jos- topped with chemically treated fake jalapeño gooey sauce
  17. Put back Mary’s virgin olive oil and the soy curly fries
  18. Buy a case of Budweiser or equivalent that’s on sale
  19. Put back red wine or not, THEN pause, making it look like you are deliberating on the issue of…

View original post 107 more words

Posted in HEALTH & WELLNESS

Daily Prompt: Paint

via Daily Prompt: Paint

Despite years of providing art education and related services today’s prompt does not call to my mind the studio classroom.  Its air filled with pungent smell of turpentine and workspaces littered with battered tubes of pigment.

No, the Daily Prompt: Paint puts me squarely in my kitchen canning pears.  The connection?  My southern drawl.  Despite my academic background my accent remains thick as molasses in the winter.  And just as sweet, Honey!  So proper enunciation sometimes eludes me.

As noted in a previous post, I’d been fretting about our fire-blighted pear tree.  I was certain that the weaken tree would no longer produce any edible fruit.  But to my surprise it yielded fruit – an abundance of small, but tasty pears.   A few weeks ago I processed our first harvest.  Proudly ladling the pears into pint jars, I announced to my husband the completion of the batch.

“Really?  How much have you canned?”  He was pleased too.

FI Nils Thingvall
Freeimages.com/Nils Thingvall

“Today I put up 4 paints.”  I was triumphant!

“What?”

“I put up 4 paints.”  I repeated.

“Mmm.”  Billy paused then asked: “Are you referring to canning pears or what you do to make art?  Its pronounced pint not paint.  You put up 4 pints of pears.”

“I know!  I know!  4 paints of pears.   That’s what I said –  I put up 4 paaaints of pears.”  I retorted making sure I placed special emphasis on the word in question.  And sulked back to the kitchen.

Billy smiled.  Later he told me he thinks its cute the way I mispronounce the word pint.  “Don’t change a thing.  I love you just the way you are.” 

Aww!  Wonderful man.  I think I’ll make his favorite breakfast tomorrow – biscuits smothered in gravy and a juicy link of saawshag.

 

 

 

Posted in BLOG, FOLK ART

Painting with a Twist

Originally posted by Sheila Moss on Humor Columnist blog.
When you create art and make memories with those you love, all art becomes “Fun” art!

Painting and Wine image courtesy of FreeImages.com/Andreas Georgioa

Humor Columnist Blog

Sunflower on Brown

“It will be fun,” I said.

“How do you know?” asked my sister.

“See, it says right here on the Internet ad, It’s FUN art, not FINE art!” I was trying to convince her to go to one of those painting classes that have become popular lately.

“But, I can’t paint!” she exclaimed.

It doesn’t matter. Right here it says, step by step instructions. Anyone can do it. They provide the canvas, paint and brushes. All we have to do is paint.”

“I’ve heard of those places,” she said, “but I’ve never been to one.” She still wasn’t sure, but she agreed to try it. I had never been before either.

We dutifully showed up at the art shop at our appointment time with our suggested bottle of wine. My sister uncorked and poured the wine. I tried to set mine down where I would not mistake it for water…

View original post 446 more words