Well, It Was Worth a Try!

The other night I get this phone call from my mom.  She starts the conversation with "Guess what..."  I know this tone.  It's either horrific news or something she finds incredibly exciting.  I was geared up for the former.  Either somebody I know has died or has a fatal disease.  But no, she has sideswiped me with "exciting news".  A neighbor of hers had just called to tell her about a job opportunity for me at a local grocery store.  Their resident artist had suddenly quit and he couldn't wait to tell them about me.   

I listened patiently as my mom relayed his message and I could tell she thought this was a good gig.   I told her I'd give it a try if I could work at home.

It took me about 4 days to finally get a hold of someone.  I got my portfolio together and headed out, not really knowing much about their expectations but willing to listen.  I walk in and realize all of their advertising is handwritten.  Numbers and lettering combined with product and logo paintings.  I sized up the situation and thought "Hey, I could do this!"

I'm feeling pretty confident as I talk with the managers.  I'm pretty good at interviews and when I pulled out my portfolio I knew they were impressed.  However, my confidence was short lived as they started asking how fast I was.  And there was some mention of an audition where they would give me an assignment and time me.  It was at this point in the conversation where I almost started giggling.  An audition!  Seriously!

Then they show me the studio room where the former artist performed his magic.  Their excitement was very apparent as they showed me this room which was the size of a large closet.  There was this huge painting of sailboats that looked as if it was created by a street artist.  I could see the stencil lines and again suppressed a giggle.  They were bragging that it only took him ten minutes.  The only thing I could say was "Wow!"

Then I was shown something really impressive.  A board advertising their hot chocolate.  I listened to them for about 15 minutes about how amazed they were that this artist thought to cut the paper cup in half vertically and stick it onto the board.  And the way the Ghiradelli logo looked so perfect.  At this, I point out that he actually printed it out and stuck it on with clear tape.  Their response, "Oh, yeah...it does look printed!"

Now, I hope I'm not coming out snobby.  It was just so humorous to me.  I was so out of place there.  I phoned my mom back and told her about the auditions.  We both laughed.   Whether I like it or not I'm a fine artist.  Not an illustrator, not a graphic designer, and not a resident artist in a grocery store.  And I left that conversation realizing it's time to start working toward showing my art.

And that felt good.

Finished!

Well, my painting above the kitchen table is complete.  And inspiration has finally landed for the three lonely frames that have been sitting above my couch.  These projects have been hanging over my head since the summer so I'm giddy to have finished them.

I just have to rant...I'm incredibly disappointed in the way blogger uploads images.  I feel like I have absolutely no control.  Anyway, the leaf is a triptych (I tried to align each one separately side by side but instead I created mass chaos so I ended up taking a picture of the three on the wall).  The sunflowers will hang in a row above my sectional.

Anyway, happy painting!

above table

Shaking Off the Holiday

I can genuinely say my love for the holiday season is dwindling as I age.  I can start to feel this lump of stress begin about October and a quick release come January.  After some contemplations over the subject I've decided to get all Christmas shopping done now when the sales are hot and the stress is not.  My stress management strategy has already proved successful and budget friendly. 

Now that I've shaken off the holidays I'm left with loads of time, energy, and pictures to blog.  And a few videos!  Yea!  I've dreamed of owning a camcorder with my quirky toddler on the loose.  So expect some pretty funny stuff.  Logan has a happy Momma with a new art medium!

Speaking of art, I have been working on a few things these past few months.  Some are done and gone sans documentation (shame on me) while others are in the middle of the process.  I have a portrait who is screaming to be finished (little Jenny) and a mess of small paintings who are eager to be born.  I'm also in the middle of decorating my living room and kitchen and believe it or not it isn't always "...so awesome" to decorate your home with your own art.  Any little uncaught mistake becomes a twitch in my eye.  Anyway, here are some of the works.

 Kitchen triptych.  Boy, I can't wait till this little beauty is done!  I thought I had it then the lighting changed as the sun came down and I no longer loved the cool yellows.  I've warmed them a bit and I'm really loving them again.  The first painting looked nothing like that a week ago.  It had two other leaves that were competing so they had to go.  I need to add some more branches to add some weight and make it more balanced.  I also want to add more reds to the browns.  Painting in progress!

 Isn't he a good easel?  Anyway, working on 3 paintings for over the sectional.  I have the frames already, just need to fill in with paintings and mat.  I've had these frames since the fall.  Inspiration has not been kind to me on this project.  Thought I'd just start drawing and see where it takes me.  I know I want color and I want all three to be similar but unified.  This is a start of three.  Plants in front of window.  Sort of inspired by this little pastel on the right.  I did this years ago while student teaching.  Hmm, pastels.  Maybe...

Oh, one of my dearest friends, Sy Snarr, took our family photos this year.  There were so many good ones my living room is basically filled with photos of Logan.  This captured moment was my absolute favorite.  It had to be enlarged to full capacity and displayed in a place of importance.  I recently had it framed so it feels like new artwork to me. 




This was a impulse painting.  More of a bored afternoon painting session.  There are two but the other is very similar so I didn't post it.  I put one on each side of a mirror that used to hang where the new family masterpiece photo now hangs.  A little Christmas inspiration.
And, again, isn't my little helper so darling?


So, therein lies some of my holiday projects.  Kind of fun. 

Thoughts on Life, Death, and Motherhood

My mom fell this morning.  Fell and broke her humorous bone.  The top of the humorous bone to be exact, right underneath her shoulder.  She's stuck wearing this sling and swath that comforts her but also aggravates her independent nature.

She fell dancing in the kitchen.  We giggled over that often throughout the day.  Every time she reported the episode to the ER attendants she had such comedic timing and wit.  Even in obvious pain she can still charm a room.


I wouldn't say the ER visit felt routine by any means but there was a certain familiarity to the situation.  One of us the patient while the other the designated nurturer.  When I was pregnant with Logan I wanted her there for my stress tests (when Nathan was not able).  When she needs any minor visits I'm always available to drive her.  We're good at comforting one another.  Making each other smile when anxiety is high.

After I had her settled into her house (and sling) I went to get her some groceries.  As I'm walking the aisles at Reams I couldn't help but feel this blanket of fatigue and overwhelming sadness.  I kept telling myself, "I will not cry in Reams.  I'm not losing it in Reams."  The day's events finally registered.  I switched from dutiful daughter to scared little child.  Mom fell.  She broke her arm. 

When I was in 6th grade my mom tripped as we were walking on a dirt road.  She fell right in front of me and she hurt her knee.  I was shaking inside and plagued with the idea that one day she would die.  That idea terrified me.

I had some of those same feelings resurface today.  After I dropped off the groceries and made sure she was okay and properly drugged (this woman has never taken more than 400 mg of Ibprofen) I headed home. Once I was on the road I could finally have the good cry I'd been fighting.

My mom is 69 years old.  And I fear the day when I cannot call her.

I know I shouldn't fear.  I have great faith that this life is not the end.  I have faith that I will see those I love again.  I just never applied that to my mom.  She's my Mom.  I can always go to her.

As I pulled into our carport, I collected myself before I went in.  But it didn't last long.  Nathan and Logan were starting a fire in the fireplace and wanted to know how I was.  The poorly collected dam of emotions broke and I sobbed.  Uncontrollably.  It felt so good to let all the fear out.  With evident concern that surprised me, Logan kept reaching up to me saying, "Up!  Up!"  I picked him up and got the biggest hug those little arms could bear.  And I saw the unsteadiness in his eyes like I was rocking his world by falling apart.

I gathered myself I declared it was time for Mommy to nap.  I was relieved to see the reassurance return in Logan's face and he took my hand as we walked Mommy to bed.

I can't help but consider two things.  The frailty of this life being one.  You'd think I'd know about this having lost two parents already.  But it is still an abstract idea to me.  That this life will end one day for me.  For my Mom.  For all those I love.  That this life isn't the end.  That we will all move on.

I felt fear and worry today.  It was too close. I can feel myself shielding my Mom from the inevitable; I'm throwing my body in front of hers saying, "You won't take her.  Not her!" 

Which leads to my other tugging thought.  How central, foundational, root-like are Mothers.  I felt it today as I held my Mom's hand as she was overwhelmed with the news that she is not indestructible.  And I can't shake the look in Logan's unsettling glare as I cried.

Maybe I needed to feel this today.  I have felt the value of mothers as I faced the idea of losing my own.  I have always valued my Mom.  But I tend to undervalue myself as Mother.

I actually hope I can hold on to this feeling when I get tough on myself.  When I fool myself into thinking perfection in this life is attainable.  That any mistake I make will out do the good.

I'm so grateful for my testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ.  I may never get over my deepest fears of losing my parents.  At least not on my own.  But I know from experience that when the time comes that I will get through it.  That the spirit will carry me and return when I need comfort.  

I'm laughing a bit inside as I reread this.  It's 3:00 in the morning and the only closing thoughts that come to mind are, "And all this from a broken humorous bone while dancing in the kitchen!"

Go figure.

Headbangin'

Do you ever feel like you are hitting your head (bam!) against a wall and you just can't stop (bam!) yourself.  It's a really hard wall like cement (bam!) and slightly crumbly like it's been there since the dawn of time (bam!).  And you can't stop even though it's very painful (bam!) and embarrassing since, well, stupidity is somewhat embarrassing.

I always take on more than I am able (bam!) then wonder why I'm miserable and paralyzed with stress (bam!) and end up with a crippling migraine (bam!).

I've heard people say, "my cup runneth over!" delighted by the overflow of goodness.  I'm leaning toward a different metaphor.  My plate is very, very full.  My food is bulging off my plate (bam!) and onto my nice tablecloth (bam!).  The peas are attacking me (bam!) and the gravy cannot be stopped!  My arms aren't big enough (bam!) and soon I'm smothered in gross gravy goop!

So, I de-goop (bam!).  Simplifiy (bam!).  Break some committments (bam!).  Rectify any dissappointed feelings (bam!).  And finally stop (bam!) banging (bam!) my precious (bam!) head....ahhh!

Someday I'll learn the wisdom of saying "no."

Remembering

There is this memory that I have that has given me an immense amount of comfort lately.  It's been a gift.  It isn't a specific memory that happened, rather a spot in my childhood home where I would spend a lot of time. In the quiet of our living room I would nestle on the couch, shoes off of course since this was our best room, and read or draw or snuggle up to a good afternoon nap.  It was ideal for me.  I could see the goings on outside since in front of me was our large front window.  And I wasn't easily seen by fellow Derr residents because of the short wall that separated the living room from our front hallway.  But I could see anyone who entered.  Truly it was the best spot in the house to just be without interruption.

Because of the monumental remodel of my mother's home a few years ago, that spot no longer exists.  Only in my memory it is alive and telling.  And it has much to say to me as a mother.  It reminds me of some simple ingredients to happiness.  Comfort.  Rich, warm, inviting smells.  Somebody's favorite food.  Laughter.  Giggles.  Occasionally staying up late just to be together.  Forgiveness.  Long hugs.  Saying "I love you" again and again.  Peaceful music.  Dancing in the kitchen.  Working side by side.  Talking.  Holding hands.  And love.  So much love.

No huge home necessary.  Fancy things not required.  Just us appreciating what we have, giving what we can, and loving each other immensely. 
  
I reflect back on our family situation at the time this memory is most strong.  It was not a time without struggle.  This is not a mere yearning for easier days without pain or responsibility.  We were fighting a losing battle with cancer yet this quiet enemy made us closer.  We made each moment count for we knew, yet again, one of our own would be called home soon.  I stayed home a lot during that time.  My sister took a million pictures and began the tradition of a family slide show each Christmas.  Our family turned inward and we set our priorities on hearth and home.  A lesson that can be easily forgotten.

So I allow myself to bathe in this memory of warm, glowing incandescent light, the smell of the wood burning fire, the sounds of a scratchy record player playing White Christmas by the Tab Choir.  I smile and again remember the simple ingredients for happiness.  I remember to turn to hearth and home.

Black Cats and Bats and Ghosts!

Today Logan and I decided to take a little stroll.  We played our favorite I Spy game which fizzled quickly with the surprise appearance of a very friendly fat black cat.  Now, being one of a very long line of dog people in my family I took a moment to think if Logan has even encountered a feline.  His initial apprehension told me probably not.

After about 5 minutes of strict observance of said fat feline, Logan decided it was his new favorite pal and began to follow it devotedly.  Fatty Catty led Logan through all sorts of rough terrain, though bushes and well manicured flower beds.  I watched with amusement from the sidewalk as Logan would never quite touch the cat but couldn't stay more than a foot away from this new furry being.

And the cat loved Logan!  He would run ahead then wait for Logan to catch up.  Then Logan would run and Cat would chase him then flop on the ground wanting his belly rub.  It was too cute and very appropiate for the season I must say.

After we said our goodbyes (a.k.a. me walking away with a kicking and screaming toddler until Cat was out of sight) we headed home, threw some rocks on our way and enjoyed the colors of fall hand in hand.

I love this kid.

Head Shots: Amber and Timaree

Afternoon Lessons

I've been painting in the afternoons.

It's been my time to listen to my music.  To play with the colors I want.  It's been my time to refill and reflect and to just be.

I'm convinced that God grants us talents not just to be shared or for us to feel better about ourselves.  I'm convinced God has given each of us specific talents as a way to understand Him and His eternal principles.

The other day I'm painting; struggling to tap into my right brain where creativity lives and thrives.  I can't seem to get the color I want.  Every color I come up with doesn't belong.  It isn't right.  Then I realize I'm working too purely.  I need to dirty my color so it can recede and let the other colors appear more vivid.  So I mix my pure yellows and oranges with blue and let the color get muddy and rich.  I slide my brush through the earthiness and place a single brushstroke. It works and my subject reads beautifully.

I'm looking at this color I've created.  By itself it's yucky.  As a whole the color is purposeful and lovely.  In fact, it's my favorite part of the piece.

Then I catch the lesson.  I get the familiar overwhelming rush of warmth that lets me know what I'm feeling is true and important.  Every experience here on this earth is necessary for my overall growth.  Not just the happy times.  Every time I struggle.  Every time it seems things are yucky and I can't seem to make heads or tails of it.  It's simply a part of the whole.  It's that swipe of dirty color that makes the overall picture beautiful and meaningful.

Now when I look at that swipe; that simple brushstroke that recedes into the background I will think of the empathy I've developed.  The kindness.  The humility.  Slowly I learn the peace that comes from understanding this principle.  To accept the bad with the good.  That trials have their place in my development.

Mostly I learn to enjoy all the colors that I create.

His First Obsession

 It's times like these that I wish I had a video camera.  It all began when I was invited to go see Toy Story 3 with my sister and her kids.  Logan had never been inside a movie theater so I had no idea what to expect.  He was an angel.  He parked himself on my mom's lap, got himself a lifetime supply of popcorn, and started shoveling buttery bits of popcorn for 2 straight hours.  My mom thought he was asleep.  What was mistaken for sleep was post-popcorn fatigue while basking in a larger than life wave of lights and colors from the movie screen.  This boy was hooked.

I first realized the obsession when we walked into Target and saw a gigantic sign of Buzz and Woody.  I thought Logan was having some sort of fit.  Nope.  Pure joy at seeing his new best friends.  I had to tear him away from the sign which only meant I had 15 minutes of complete toddler meltdown at Target.

Then came Sam's Club.  I saw that Toy Story 1 and 2 were on sale for $12.  I thought they would make lovely Christmas presents for Logan.  Think again.  When I tried to take the movies from Logan he looked at me with fire in his eyes that said, "Over my dead body, Woman!"

Since then he has probably watched Toy Story over 20 times.  He sings (and conducts) to the introduction, he knows his favorite parts and screams at his not so favorite parts.  When it is over he begs me to put in the second one.  When I don't or when I interrupt the movie to, I don't know, FEED HIM, I know I have Toddler Hell to Pay. 

In the car today I put in a Disney CD that I had found and "You've Got A Friend In Me" came on.  Oh, the joy!!  He was ecstatic!  It was as if Woody and Buzz were in the car with him!  He "la-la-ed" the entire song.  When it was over he screamed until I played it again.  And again.  And again.  I now loathe that song.

I know this should drive me crazy but it actually makes me really happy.  He has his first passion.  Now I can write in his baby book that when Logan was 2 he was OBSESSED with Toy Story.

It's all good!

New Art Cards

I'm trying to paint 25 cards a week.  I did 14 last week (but prepped 150).  Let me know what you think!

For pricing and sizes check out the Cards page.

Custom Made French Toast

Logan and I often make french toast in the morning.  Here's the ritual:  I give piece of bread to Logan, he throws it in the egg/milk/cinnamon mixture.

Today he throws in another step:  I  give piece of bread to Logan, he takes a bite then throws the bread into the egg/milk/cinnamon mixture.  Every piece of toast has his bite mark.

Love it!

Green Eyed Distraction

Occasionally I feel this obnoxious tendency to compare myself to others.  I know I'm not alone.  It seems an epidemic among young mothers.  It doesn't matter if she works or stays at home; nobody is immune to the Green Eyed Monster.

What really aggravates me about jealousy is that I don't catch it right away.  I'll be well into my inner tantrum; thinking the worst about my own situation and realizing the impossible chasm envy creates.  Then when I realize what's going on I'm down on myself for being so petty!  Sheesh!

My only hope, my only sense of peace comes from thinking that each day I mature.  Every inner battle I have I'm closer to recognizing Greenie sooner and see him for what he really is-a distraction. 

I have a lot to offer this world.  I have a lot to offer my family.  I really don't care if Tootsie can run 5 marathons in two months or how many words Barbie's kid Cletis can spout.  I'm on my own path here and I rather like it.

Short Thought About a Great Friend

I have this friend.  She is amazing.  Her name is Keri and she lives very far away in New Zealand.  One of my January resolutions was to regularly email her after many years of occasional contact.  Nothing could have been better for me.  Keri is my kindredest of kindred spirits.  And I feel so lucky to have such a friend.  I could easily be green with envy with how fabulous she is but I'm not.  It's never a competition with us, only support.  I have many cheerleaders in my life and she's among the ones with the loudest cheers and the biggest pom-poms.

How lucky I am!

Look What I Made Yesterday!

My sister Michelle is in town.  Every visit includes at least one outing with just the nieces and nephews.  Usually bowling is the number one activity but she decided to change it up a bit with a trip to Wheeler Farm followed by an egg-dying session out on the lawn.

I have to say egg-dying has certainly come a long way.  The kiddos loved dipping and retrieving the eggs from their colored soak but the tweens and I went haywire with the accessories.  Here's a few of my creations.

Alien Egg

Andy Warhol Egg

Salvador Dali Egg

Just Wanted To Try Furry Eyebrows Egg

I thought this kit was great for the creative spirit.  Again, the young kiddos liked the dipping, not so keen on the accessories.  The five years olds loved the stickers but struggled getting the hair to cooperate.  And they tend to use way too much of everything so it was a good lesson on sharing and taking turns.  The teenagers loved this.  They easily plowed through two dozen eggs.  I think dying eggs in June might be our new favorite Aunt Mi-Jenn activity.