Whadya’ Mean I Can’t Talk?

 Talking is my go to stress reliever. My pressure valve.

Anytime I’m in a tense situation I talk. (Okay, even when I’m not. Shut up!)

When I was a baby, family lore has it my father couldn’t wait until I learned to talk. When I did he was said to comment, “Doesn’t she ever shut up?”

If you look at any of my childhood report cards there is ALWAYS a comment on my being a pleasant enough child but ‘talks too much’.

When a new boy from Greece, who didn’t speak any English, came into our class the teacher said, “Put him next to Robin. It’ll be the fastest way for him to learn.”

I talked before they knocked me out for my tonsillectomy and woke up still talking.

I talked through my entire amniocentesis.

I talked …..well, you get the idea.

So when they told me I COULDN’T talk during the biopsy I was all, “Wait…..WHAT?”

That’s right, can’t talk. You need to lie perfectly still.

The reason I talk is so I don’t have to think about what’s going on. If I have to keep stringing words together I can’t ponder the consequences of what’s happening.

I know...denial is my middle name!

So I told the doctor and the nurse to keep up a running commentary during the procedure. I didn’t care what they talked about..…the weather, politics, music, religion, men.

It didn’t matter.

Just talk.

Turns out it works almost as well as when I’m doing the talking.

I don’t think the Xanax had anything to do with it……. 

Fugitive Friday

 

Sylvia Rothschild

Aliases: Mary Ellen Rothschild

Height: 4’ 11”

Weight: won’t tell

Eyes: Hazel

Hair: Black

Age: admits to ‘over 60’

Distinguishing marks: age spots she refers to as ‘freckles’

Wanted for: Industrial Espionage

(Stealing designs for sun glasses from Chopard, Dolce and Gabanna, Louis Vuitton and Moss Lipow)

Rejectamenta

A Juried Competition:  Things or matter rejected as useless or worthless.

This is 'Buzz", my entry.

His body is made from old magazine pages. 

The stand is recycled from a failed project.   

The 'mud pile' he is hovering over are plastic grocery bags crinkled with a heat gun. 

 His legs are the tines of my plastic lunch forks.

 His eyes are dead watch batteries.

 His wings and the leaves are Panera paper bag handles. 

He has a problem....his 'light bulb' tail is burned out! 

Wordless Wednesday

When Inspiration Strikes

You never know where the next idea is going to come from!

One of my BFF’s (blog friends forever) Kim Henkel posted this picture. 

Besides being a beautiful picture, the face practically jumped out of the monitor at me! 

I think he needs a bit more work, but it’s a good beginning!

Thanks Kim! 

Retail Therapy

Do I need a new sketchbook?

Absolutely not.

Should I buy a new sketchbook?

Probably not.

Will I use a new sketchbook?

Absolutely.

Will I finish a new sketchbook?

Probably not.

Is it on sale and therefore a good purchase?

Absolutely.

Did I restrain myself from buying non-needed sketchbook?

Absolutely not.

C’mom! It’s so cute! I couldn’t just leave it there!

R.I.P.

What can I say about Fluffy?

She was a good cat.

She always used the litter box (unless she opted for the utility sink…which was okay too.)

She was selective but generous with her affections.

She did her best to become the dog Husband wanted her to be after Sammy died.

She learned to ‘speak’ and beg for morsels of food at the dinner table (something Sammy was NEVER allowed to do, BTW!)

She lived a long and happy life.

She will be missed.

Jumping on the Wordless Wednesday Bandwagon

Beware of Hot Glue!

Ya’ know how until you get a sore throat you never notice how many times a day you swallow?

It’s like that.

I know it doesn’t look like much.

Still ……..ouch!

And I never realized before how much I use my index finger! LOL

It will be okay by tomorrow, but allow me to have a pity party at least for today…….  ;D  

How to Waste Time on a Sunday Morning

Murphy’s Law of Boat Ownership

Buy boat of dreams for retirement years (go into debt.)

Have wonderful memory building weekends on boat with friends and children.

While at beach boat breaks loose, drifts into shallow water and bends props.

Have boatyard haul boat out of water (for huge fee) and fix props.

Continue to spend weekends on boat until retired.

Move to Florida.

(I won’t even go into the dismantling and shipping the boat to Florida story.)

Economy crashes.

Go back to work to be able to pay for boat.

Take boat out on days off to explore Florida waterways.

While out exploring, port engine blows up.

Find out about design flaw which allows water to enter engine causing said engine to blow up.

Calculate fee to have engine repaired.

Contact manufacturer who denies any liability.

Boat sits at dock while saving money to repair engine.

While saving money for repair, work on redesigning flaw to prevent recurrence.
Continue paying insurance premiums for a boat that just sits at the dock because the bank won't allow you to drop the coverage while you still owe money on it.

Money accumulated.

Order parts.

Remove engine from boat in order to rebuild (no easy feat.)

Rebuild engine.

Put engine back in boat (even harder feat.)

Tinker and replace every single other part that could possibly have been effected by water intake.

Finally ready for test ride.

Reach end of canal, engine overheating.

Return to dock.

Tinker more.

Finally, after years of saving, working, tinkering, and redesigning…..

Take boat out for test ride (again!)

Get past end of canal (whew!) rebuilt engine running like a dream.

Start thinking about which boat broker to call.

On way back to dock……

Starboard engine blows up!

I know what you’re thinking…..but we thought we had taken precautionary steps to save the starboard engine before it had a chance to become damaged.

We were mistaken.

Prediction; by the time we save up enough money to fix the starboard engine we will have finished paying the loan and we can just GIVE IT AWAY!

Kitty Bath

MOM! Save me!

When I get out of here............

Now it's going to take me all day to put the spit back on!

Night Rider

It was three in the morning.

The phone rings.

It’s Husband.

He worked the graveyard shift so I wasn’t alarmed.

Just surprised.

He didn’t usually wake me.

He apologized but said he wanted to tell me something.

Okay…….

We both worked for the same company and he knew that if he didn’t tell me first I would hear it the next day.

He wanted me to know how it really happened.

Like I said, he worked the graveyard shift.

Our jobs required us to go from building to building. On this particular night he was driving on a rather lonely stretch of road at two AM.

It was winter.

On the side of the road was a young woman standing next to a stalled car.

Husband’s immediate thought was if this were my wife I would want someone to stop and help her.

So he did.

She said she was on her way to work and needed a lift.

He assumed she was a nurse on her way to the hospital in the next town so he said, “Hop in.”

In the course of the conversation he asked where she wanted to be dropped off.  

She said the 7-Eleven.

Husband was confused.

He said, “I thought you were on your way to the hospital for the night shift.”

She laughed.

And proceeded to tell him she was a prostitute on her way to meet her pimp at the 7-Eleven in town.

(Just as a side note, this particular town was a known hotspot for ladies of the evening. We used to watch them from our office window. But that’s a story for another time.)

She said she’d like to reward him for his good Samaritan behavior.

He politely declined ……

At this point I was laughing so hard the tears were streaming down my cheeks!

Not only because, knowing Husband, I could just imagine his dismay and discomfort at the situation but at how this story was going to play out at work the next day! (It was a LARGE company…..gossip spread like wildfire! Especially a good story like this!)

Husband says he learned a very valuable lesson that night.

NEVER COME TO THE RESCUE OF ANYONE ON THE SIDE OF THE ROAD!

It was the talk of the company for YEARS!

She's Getting Weirder by the Minute.....

Holy Crap!!!!!!!!!

This is our old house up north! OMG! I'm agog! It was damaged in Hurricane Sandy. I had heard the insurance companies were requiring the houses to be raised to keep their rates from skyrocketing. But.....Holy Crap!
To be clear here....it used to be on the ground! 
Like this....

(It looked much cuter when we lived there, no vinyl siding for us! LOL)

Why I Don’t Teach

I went to college to be a teacher.

Luckily for the school system and every child on earth, life took me on a different path.

It‘s a good thing.

Teaching is performance art.

To say I suffer from anxiety disorder in front of a group is an understatement.

I knew this from an early age, but it must have slipped my mind several times throughout my life…….

Wherever we lived my father joined the local theatre group.

It looked like so much fun!

What I failed to recognize was it might not be fun for everyone.

So when they formed a children’s group I joined.

I dutifully went to every rehearsal.

The night of the performance my father slathered my face with greasepaint (this is where my lifetime aversion to makeup began, I think) and I got into my cute, albeit slightly offensive, oriental costume.

The play started.

I had learned my lines alright, but what I hadn’t learned were my cues! (Who knew?)

Trough the whole performance my girlfriend would elbow me every time it was my turn to say my lines.

I stood there mortified, spitting them out like a gumball machine at every jab!

I dropped out of the group.

I didn’t set foot on a stage again until my senior year in high school.

The minute I stepped on stage in front of the audience, the memory of that long ago day when I was seven came flooding back to me and my intestines immediately said…..”Oh, that’s right! I HATE THIS!”

I didn’t show up for the second performance.

So, in retrospect, it’s a good thing (as Martha would say) I didn’t become a teacher!

I Must Be a Closet Architect

First I got these......                                                                  

Which became these.......

Which morfed into these.........

Flat cut outs on the wall......BORING!

And these.......

But it still wasn't enough. I itched to make them 3-D. 

So then came these.......

Which grew into this........

Paper Gotham City! 

It takes two 8.5 x 11 sheets of card stock to make each building (the hi-rise takes four sheets.) 

They average about six inches tall (more or less) after folding and gluing. 

(Ignore the funny red tinge in these pictures. I used a red backdrop when I photographed them, but it looked too severe. So I changed it digitally. I'm just not skilled enough to know how to change the reflected light. LOL.)

Which I then played with in Photoshop......

 I know it's old school, but it's so much fun!!!!

I can't stop!