.....and other random stuff......

Friday, May 31, 2013

I’m Not Afraid of Flying


I’m afraid of CRASHING!

Not the actual hitting the ground part. I’ll probably be dead long before I go splat.
No, I’m afraid of those terrifying thirty seconds when you know, positively, how it’s going to end.

I’m a big advocate of dying in your sleep. Go to sleep, have a pleasant dream, and BANG!
Never wake up.

I’m good with that.

Besides, I don’t think the word ‘plummeted’ belongs in anyone’s obituary.


Thursday, May 30, 2013

Mrs. Rothschild......the end


It is well known, though seldom said, that the people who most often say “In my day…” are usually the ones with the least valuable experience to share. Mary-Ellen Rothschild is most definitely one of those people. If your most common practice in life is to measure the changes between then and now, how can you ever enjoy yourself presently? It is on this basis that we join Mrs. Rothschild in her Naples condo on the morning of the day she would die.

Upon rising every day, Mary-Ellen Rothschild would slip into her matted terrycloth sandals and shuffle into her bathroom to begin her morning beauty regiment. After a shower so hot some might suggest she died years ago from daily blanching, she would brazenly step in front of her 8 foot, bare-bulbed vanity mirror completely nude, and perch on her closest life-long companion: the powder pink upholstered stool that she swears to this day she bought for a bargain from Cher’s road manager back in ’79. Her first husband loved it, her second never noticed, but now that she was all on her own it was the one piece of furniture she relied on to set her at the perfect height to drown her wrinkles in pore reducing oils, creams, masks, and some ill-gotten gels from deep in the orient (she had surreptitiously stocked up in 92…)

After slipping into her threadbare silk robe, she would saunter into her kitchen to mix a mimosa at her heavily mirrored bar. The kind of people that drink first thing in the morning are typically those who don’t, wont, and never will need to work a day in their lives. Her first husband saw to that, her second didn’t hurt. It becomes apparent within just a few minutes near Mrs. Rothschild that though she is very learned in the ways of etiquette, the true philosophy of being a lady entirely escaped her – or maybe it was that Staten Island never left her either.

The day was one of those impeccably enjoyable days where most anyone of any emotional stability would be happy to just see the sky. In the bubbly wake of her second mimosa, Mary-Ellen decided she should mosey down to the club house and shamelessly ogle Mr. Caphrey’s caddy who, at the delectable age of 26, was also a local fitness instructor. As was her custom in the many years of her life, pageantry was a necessity of her position in life and marriage. She was the type of woman that would wear multiple patterns together, and chose hats that even the most pompous Kentucky Derby attendees wouldn’t dare perch on their heads.

After slipping into her royal blue dress and putting on her horn rimmed glasses she climbed into her Cadillac and drove all of .2 miles to the covered veranda and valeted her car – though never tipped. When she arrived, the entire staff would let out a collective grunt of displeasure. She was notorious for all of the plethora of minute annoyances that only a tactless brute could possibly commit repetitiously. She was notorious for making her presence known by demanding service from any member of staff that would happen to be near enough to hear her shrill “Excuse me!”

As always, only the most senior staff members were allowed to cater to her every whim – which usually included a never-ending well of margaritas with more fruit garnish than anything else, and martinis dirtier than the Chicago River. Though the hostess always tried to seat her away from the other guests so she wouldn’t be a nuisance, Mrs. Rothschild had different ideas. The perfect view of the driving range was the north end of the patio. From there, she could discretely pull the sports binoculars from her purse and eye-molest Mr. Caphrey’s caddy while she sipped her cocktails. His muscular arms pulling tight the cuffs on his standard issue polo. Being that it was Monday, he was giving lessons to the kids of the members of the club.

She was lucky to have never been caught staring by the caddy himself, and though she never even knew his name, she had elaborate fantasies about their vacations to Paris and the Mediterranean coast. It was the best part of her day, without a doubt. He motioned for his students to step back and watch his follow-through and proper backswing form. He braced the grip and stood firmly over the ball and drew back the driver pulling tight every thread of his maybe-too-tight polo shirt and cracked down the club sending the ball smacking right into the steel support beam of the awning the club put up earlier that year. The few young girls in the students screeched and ducked as the ball came flying backwards and clear into the sky.

Mary-Ellen let out a hearty laugh and heads turned on the patio. She cleared her throat self-consciously and sipped her martini again. Just as everyone turned back to their tables and rolled their eyes, Mrs. Rothschild put the binoculars back up to her eyes. Just then, reeling at terminal velocity out of the sunlight came the ball…  It crashed right into her head. Now, there is a measure of discrepancy as to how the rest of the afternoon came to pass, but the coroner’s office released an official statement to the members of the golf club. It explained, in short, that with sudden blunt force trauma to the skull, a piece of Mrs. Rothschild’s skull was sent spinning into her brain. It also explained how most commonly, sudden brain damage causes instant paralysis, and being that most of Mrs. Rothschild’s time was spent pinioning her weight on chairs or couches, there was nowhere for her to fall, really.

She sat still and silent with a pair of binoculars up to her eyes, a martini on her patio table, and an eerily pleased smirk on her face for most of the afternoon until Beatrice, the patio waitress, requested rather tersely that Mrs. Rothschild pay her tab before they closed the club house for the evening.

It’s not that no one wouldn’t miss her – it was just that no one could possibly know who on Earth it could be that would. Being that there was no next of kin, and no way of disseminating any news of her passing since she had long since lost touch with anyone related to her by blood or marriage, there was an auction of her things a few weeks later. The entire Victorian era feel of her home was dismantled piece by piece and appraised. Her heavily toted Charles Eastlake and Augustus Pugin were all found to be forgeries of the weakest breed, the art; all prints. In the end the most valuable piece of furniture, supported by photographic evidence and later a letter of authenticity, was a small powder pink upholstered stool that sat in her bathroom: it belonged to Cher, but went mysteriously missing sometime in 1979. 

©Son2 2013

Tuesday, May 28, 2013

♥♥♥ Guest Artist ♥♥♥


My friend Laurie is a fabulous journal artist! 
She can do sooooo much with a blank page! 
I LOVE when we get together and she brings some of her journals with her. 
It's such a wonderfully tactile experience to be able page through them! I'm honored that she shares them with me!

She makes the most gorgeous backgrounds with her Gelli Plate (I’m just slightly jealous!)

Look at what she did with one of my ‘beasties’!
He's riding TWO bicycles!

The quote is from Carl Hiassen:  "The first rule of hurricane coverage is that every broadcast must begin with palm trees bending in the wind.”

I’m still grinning! 

If you are interested in any of my critters for use in your own art I've listed printable PDF downloads in my Etsy shop. There is a minimal charge of 20¢  because Etsy wouldn't let me list it for free. Sorry.......

Thursday, May 23, 2013

What is With This G*&%##^&(*) Bird?


Every night for weeks now, just as I settle down to bed there is a bird outside my window that starts to ‘sing’!
What’s up with that?
It’s the freaking middle of the night!
Go the hell to sleep!
And he keeps it up ALL night.
Until just before dawn.
I’m assuming it’s a Mockingbird because his ‘song’ is all over the place, not a repeated melody.
And if I’m not hallucinating one of the 'songs' he 'sings'  sounds suspiciously like the trill of a cell phone ring tone! 

Wednesday, May 22, 2013

OUCH!


Either I’m rehearsing for the role as Harvey in a revival of the Jimmy Stewart movie or I’m stubbornly refusing to admit I need to call the dentist……………..

Tuesday, May 21, 2013

He Liked His Wife’s Slippers Best


You just never know what you’ll run into when picking up a pizza for dinner……

Monday, May 20, 2013

600 Million Dollars


The Power Ball Lottery was up to 600 million dollars this weekend so, of course, we played! LOL
As we drove to the store to buy the tickets we fantasized about what we would do when we win.
(See how I did that? Positive statement….WE WILL WIN!)
Anyway….. Husband laid out his plan to pay off all debts for family members and set them up for life. This included a mansion for each person filled with beautiful girls.
And of course one for us…..filled with beautiful girls.
I asked, “So what’s in it for me? Do I get a bunch of 'boy toys'?”
His answer was “No, but I’ll get you a new car. And you can cook for me because the girls won’t know how.”


I think it’s time for a remedial course in MARRIAGE for Husband.

(PS We didn’t win L)

Friday, May 17, 2013

‘PunDay’


This is what happens when I stay up too late and read your blogs! LOL

There once was a mustachioed man
Who preferred his pistachios canned
He ate and he ate
Until he felt faint
And ended up turning cyan!

(GROAN L)























(It's all Alarmcat's fault! LOL)

Thursday, May 16, 2013

Apps


I’ve been slowly building my App collection on Tablet.
I already told you about Auryn Ink, a digital watercolor App.
I’ve also had some fun with Sketch Guru Doodle Joy Studio.

The reason I downloaded this App was because it ‘records’ your brush strokes and you can play them back to watch your sketch ‘magically’ appear on the screen.

I know, I’m easily amused.

But I thought it would be fun to upload the video so you could see how I do it. (All without having to actually appear or speak in the video myself.)
This is what has been frustrating me. I can’t figure out how to upload it! Or even if it’s possible!
I’ve seen some videos on YouTube that people have shared but they are recorded with another device as they show the screen of their phone or tablet.
So I’m beginning to believe what I want to do can’t be done.

Anyway……I still like this App. It has some interesting ‘brushes’ you can use to make interesting textures.
I came up with this little guy as I was playing with one of the brushes. 

Wednesday, May 15, 2013

I Like You Best


After 38 years, I still like you best!

Tuesday, May 14, 2013

Guest Post

Last week I asked Son2 (the journalism graduate) to write some stories about the characters I draw. I thought a new/different/younger slant would be interesting. 
He didn't disappoint. 
So here, without further ado, is his first character study.

Mrs. Rothschild

It is well known, though seldom said, that the people who most often say “In my day…” are usually the ones with the least valuable experience to share.
Mary-Ellen Rothschild is most definitely one of those people.
If your most common practice in life is to measure the changes between then and now, how can you ever enjoy yourself presently? It is on this basis that we join Mrs. Rothschild in her Naples condo on the morning of the day she would die.

Upon rising every day, Mary-Ellen Rothschild would slip into her matted terrycloth sandals and shuffle into her bathroom to begin her morning beauty regiment. After a shower so hot some might suggest she died years ago from daily blanching, she would brazenly step in front of her 8 foot, bare-bulbed vanity mirror completely nude, and perch on her closest life-long companion: the powder pink upholstered stool that she swears to this day she bought for a bargain from Cher’s road manager back in ’79.
Her first husband loved it, her second never noticed, but now that she was all on her own it was the one piece of furniture she relied on to set her at the perfect height to drown her wrinkles in pore reducing oils, creams, masks, and some ill-gotten gels from deep in the orient (she had surreptitiously stocked up in ‘92…)

After slipping into her threadbare silk robe, she would saunter into her kitchen to mix a mimosa at her heavily mirrored bar.
The kind of people that drink first thing in the morning are typically those who don’t, wont, and never will need to work a day in their lives. Her first husband saw to that, her second didn’t hurt. 
It becomes apparent within just a few minutes near Mrs. Rothschild that though she is very learned in the ways of etiquette, the true philosophy of being a lady entirely escaped her – or maybe it was that Staten Island never left her. 

Monday, May 13, 2013

Perspective














Done with Auryn Ink App on Tablet.  It's a watercolor painting App. Very basic but replicates real watercolor pretty well for a digital 'program'.

Sunday, May 12, 2013

Happy Mother’s Day!


Mildred Pierce, chocolate cake and art.

The perfect Mother’s Day!

Hope all you moms out there have a good one too!

Saturday, May 11, 2013

I’m Having a Pity Party (care to join me?)


I don’t know if you already know this about me, but I don’t take failure well.
I think everything I do should come out perfectly the very first time I try it!
In my head I know better.
Emotionally, not so much.

And lately I’ve been going through a patch of ‘everything I touch is turning to s**t’!

My tree isn’t drying.
L
My idea for paper dolls isn’t working. 
L
My stuffies are turning out without character and are ‘blah’. 
L
Computer/Tablet are turning on me.
L (Okay, so that one maybe isn't really their fault so much as the fault of the program writers who don’t seem to realize what it is I want the Program/App to do! LOL)
I can’t figure out how to upload the video of my sketches. 
L
The stories I write come out dull and boring. 
L

Blah, blah blah, blah, blah…………….
Whine, whine, whine, whine, whine……..
What makes me think I’m so freakin’ special I shouldn’t have bad days?

This too shall pass, but for heaven’s sake I hope it’s soon!

This concludes the self pity portion of our show, now back to our regularly scheduled programming.

Tuesday, May 7, 2013

Computer Frustration


I hate it when I can’t figure out how to do something on the computer.
I know what it is I want to do but I just can’t quite get it.

So I Google it (Google is my BFF.)

And I find all sorts of information, just not what I’m looking for.
It usually takes about four hours of this and I finally come across a forum that tells me what I want to do isn’t possible ‘at this time’!

And that really pisses me off because, you know, IT’S A COMPUTER!

It’s a simple (relatively) machine that spits out what you put into it. And it’s just a matter of moving the ‘bits’ around.
And since I’ve already put INTO the damn thing the info that I now want to move, it should be a simple operation because IT’S A COMPUTER!

I even e-mailed the maker of the App and asked for guidance.
Believe me, breaking down and sending an e-mail to ask for help is a BIG deal with me (kind of like a man asking for directions.)

Guess what?
THAT OPERATION ISN’T AVAILABLE AT THIS TIME!!!!!!!









ARGH!

Monday, May 6, 2013

Minnie & Will


As much as my paternal grandparents were a bit…….stern, my maternal grandparents were as cute as could be.
Grandma looked like Mrs. Claus and Grandpa was just as adorable.

One of his favorite sayings was, “Minnie’ll skin me alive!” as he chuckled at the thought of Grandma scolding him.

He was very handy around the house.
Always tinkering with this or that.
I guess out of necessity. But he was good at it.
He could fix anything.

One fine day he decided it was time to fix the light in the kitchen.
It was a hanging light in the middle of the room that had a pull chain with a glowing knob on the end of the chain so you could find it in the dark.

He took the red step stool that was always in the kitchen over to the light and climbed up with his screwdriver in hand.

Grandma stood at the sink preparing dinner.
She said, “Will, you’d better turn off the power before you do that.”
He replied “Aw Min, I know what I’m doing!” (and he winked at me.)
No sooner were the words out of his mouth when his screwdriver touched the live wire and knocked him off the step stool and right on his ass!
Grandma didn’t even turn her head as she said, “I told you, turn off the power.”

I wasn’t sure what to do or say, but then Grandpa started laughing so I did too!

Thursday, May 2, 2013























The air pressure must be unusually low :(     praying  for sunshine.........

Wednesday, May 1, 2013

Tree Trouble


The road to true art never runs smoothly….
Or something like that, LOL.
This tree is giving me trouble. It won’t harden properly.
Couldn’t possibly be poor planning on the artists’ part :(
So now I’m trying to salvage it by ‘infusing’ it with Paverpol.
It needs to stand upright (without slowly ‘wilting’) and be able to support the bird on one of its branches.
I’m not willing to give up yet!
I'm squirting the Paverpol inside with an old glue bottle and hoping gravity will help!

And it will eventually dry!

Fingers crossed!