LEGACY

When I was 16 I was going to conquer the world! (Weren’t we all, LOL?)

 I had huge plans and ambitions.

One day I looked at my mother and felt so sorry for her.

She was very smart but never went to college. She (at the time) didn’t work outside the home. She was ‘just a housewife’ as the saying goes.

But at 16 I thought, isn’t it too bad that she never did anything important.

And being 16 I said that to her.

Her reply startled me.

She said: “But I did do something important. I had you!”

I remember thinking, oh that is so sad! To have such low aspirations!

But now, all these years later, I completely understand what she meant.

I just read this statistic the other day: Ninety two percent of the people who lived and died on this planet left no trace of their life.

How sad.

But I don’t think it’s true.

Because we’ve left a part of ourselves in our children.

And that’s an ENORMOUS trace of my life.

Is It Wrong To Toot My Own Horn?

Months ago I was interviewed by a small local “what’s happening around town” newspaper, Florida Weekly.

They have a little column about local artists.

Yesterday I got an email from the publicity department saying I was in the paper this week!

How nice! 

Little Toe Calling robin’s Brain

Why do you hate me so much?  :(

OUCH!

I did it AGAIN! Same toe! Same chair!

Maybe it’s time to rearrange the furniture. 

Ya’ think? LOL

only a SLIGHT exaggeration of the real thing (the color is pretty much accurate!)

Look At Me, I Made A New Word! (Neologism)

You know those nonsensical words you have to type in order to leave a comment on someone’s blog?

Well, one day in my blog travels this was the word I had to type: “IMING”

It’s PERFECT!

‘I’m-ing’----

This is my definition:

Im-ing; verb, \ím-ing\ 1. The act of doing what makes your heart sing. Forward movement, growth, expansion, evolution, accomplishment.

I think it’s a cool word.

When we paint/draw/sew/cook/write/garden/etc. we’re ‘I’m-ing’.

Chances of it ever moving into the lexicon are slim, but it’s still cool! LOL

Everyday Objects

Everyday object that I use WAY too much!  LOL

‘Spectacle’

This term was hung on my better half.

Husband, you see, has a very keen and slightly ‘off center’ sense of humor.

And it often comes out when we are in public.

Which causes people to look at us as if we are……….strange.

So began the family joke “Dad is being a ‘Spectacle’”.

The other day, he was kneeling beside the pool, using his hand as a scoop. Reaching for something that I couldn’t see. 

I didn’t think much of it. 

Small creatures are always finding their way into the pool and Husband or I frequently rescue them.

But he kept reaching and scooping, reaching and scooping and coming up empty handed. 

Then he started to laugh out loud.

Okay, he is really losing it this time! What is so funny?

Between guffaws of laughter he tells me he was trying to rescue one of the tiny newborn snakes that come onto the lanai but it kept moving so fast he couldn’t grab it! (This is very unlikely for a baby snake.)

After several minutes of unsuccessful attempts he finally realized there was nothing there! 

It was a ‘floater’ in his vision and that’s why he couldn’t grab it!

Growing old is going to be hysterical!

Oh, wait, it already is! LOL

I Love the Water

I love to be near it, I love to be on it, but I don’t really like being IN it. 

Unless it’s chlorinated.

I tend to be regarded as a large piece of bait by sea creatures.

Case 1: I was about fourteen and was invited to a friend’s cabin on a lake. We decided to swim to a neighbors for a visit. As we were swimming I felt something ‘brush’ up against my foot. I climbed up onto the dock and there, jaws clenched firmly around the side of my foot, was a large fish! Needless to say I freaked! It never broke the skin, but it creeped me out. I WALKED back to the cabin.

Case 2: Ocean City Maryland—As I pop up out of the surf and try to wipe the water from my eyes I realize it’s not just water but a gelatinous blob of JELLYFISH on my face! EEEEk and ouch!

Case 3: Fire Island, NY----It’s a hot day so I go to sit in the water to cool off. I sit down in about six inches of water. (Seriously, it was barely deep enough to get wet, much less support any wildlife!) As I sit I feel something pinch me! I managed to find what was probably the last surviving scallop in the Great South Bay! (There hadn’t been scallops in the Bay for years because of salinity changes.)

So now, the only water I immerse myself in is chlorinated!

(To the best of my recollection, this is what the fish looked like that attached itself to my foot, lo those many years ago!)

A Cat Is A Cat Is A Cat

Ever since Sammy, our golden retriever died, Husband has been trying to turn our cat into a dog.

And I have to admit he isn’t doing half bad!

He’s managed to teach her how to beg at the dinner table, including standing up on her hind legs to ‘sniff’ at what’s on the plates. (Much to my chagrin!)

She meows loudly when we’re having fish to let us know she expects her fair share. (She’s also partial to filet mignon, just like Sammy!)

She sits on Husband’s lap and nudges his hands to pet her while they both watch TV (Just like Sammy used to. The nudging part, not the lap part. LOL)

So he has succeeded (mostly) in turning Fluffy into a dog.

Except when she decides she’s had enough of the stupid humans and reverts to proper cat behavior.

And totally ignores us!

The Wicked Witch of Westchester

a.k.a. The Azalea Lady of Brookdale Drive

            When I was growing up in Westchester, circa 1950’s, the hard and fast rule about eating Halloween candy was—you never, ever eat anything that isn’t wrapped. And even then you have your parents check to make sure it’s okay. Then you check it again to make absolutely sure.

                Also in Westchester, at least in my neighborhood, we had a resident witch. We all knew she was a witch because she never came out of her house. She just peeked through the curtains at us when we played kickball in front of her house. 

She had a very different looking house from everyone else’s, but what made her really different was her garden. She had a very large azalea garden, which covered her entire property. It was quite a showcase.

Every spring the Sunday paper would run a feature story about it and people would come from miles around to see. They would close off the street to cars and what seemed like thousands of gawkers would traipse down our street to look at the witch’s gardens.

Frank was her gardener. Every day Frank worked in the gardens, weeding, feeding, hoeing, and doing whatever it is that gardeners do in the garden. We would play in the street in front of the witch’s house and Frank would talk to us and tease us. More than once he threatened to “plant me in the garden, head first!” I knew he was just teasing, but I rode my bike extra fast when I passed by Frank.

One time our ball got kicked up into the gardens when we were playing. Frank said he would get it for us, not to go after it ourselves. As he was getting ready to throw it back to us, the witch called to him from the window and said, “Frank, you bring that ball here to me! Then I don’t have to worry about it hitting my azaleas!”

We knew then for sure she was a witch (she even looked like the Wicked Witch of the West!)

Several weeks later, I was peddling extra fast past the witch’s house, she came out onto the porch and called to me! ME! I didn’t know what to do. She said to come up onto the porch, she had something for me.

Well, if I had any kind of brain I would have kept on peddling. What could the witch possibly have for me? But I thought that if my parents ever heard that I had been rude to the witch I’d be in big trouble. (You know how grownups are about manners and all.)

So, I put down my bike and walked up onto the porch. I was careful not to go into the house, (pictures of Hansel and Gretel kept running through my mind!) She came back to the door with a small brown paper bag and said, “Here, this is for you. I’ve been saving it for you. Share it with the others. And I’m sorry about the ball.”

I took the bag, mumbled something polite, and ran down the stairs. Now I had proof! She really was a witch and here was the proof. I was holding a bag of unwrapped candy that she wanted me to share with all the other kids in the neighborhood! SHE WAS TRYING TO POISON US!

I peddled as fast as I could all the way home and ran into the house calling for my mother. Out of breath, and as best as I could, I told her about the witch and what had happened.

Now, the parents all knew that we thought she was a witch, and of course, they all told us she wasn’t. Just and eccentric old widow who was lonely and never had children, so she didn’t know how to act with us. But I knew better. (They don’t tell us all those fairy tales for nothing you know!) I can recognize a witch when I see one! And she was one if ever I saw one! Nothing my mother said could convince me otherwise.

Finally, so exasperated with my insistence that this harmless old woman was a witch, my mother said she’d prove it to me and popped a piece of the unwrapped candy into her mouth!

I stood there breathless, watching my mother, waiting for her to drop to the floor and writhe in all consuming agony foaming at the mouth as the poison worked its way into her system.

……..She kept dusting the furniture. No dropping, no foaming, no writhing. Just dusting. 

Okay, so it’s a slow acting poison. That makes more sense. Can’t have all the neighborhood kids dropping dead at once, it would look too suspicious.

So how long exactly does slow acting poison take to act?

I’m still waiting.   

Carla Sonheim’s Junk Mail Book Class

Week three at Carla Sonheim's summer camp was a ‘junk mail’ book.

Once again I learned a lot from Carla! Techniques I might never have tried on my own.

Not sure if I like the finished product but I totally enjoyed the process.

Maybe I just need some distance from it for a while to truly appreciate it.

You collect junk mail, gesso it, then add some pizzazz  with watercolors.

You put the 'book' together with pages that are uneven and overlap one another, then draw so that one page flows into the next. (It's kind of difficult to see in the pictures.)

It was quite challenging, and I'm afraid I wasn't very imaginative. LOL

I used packing tape to bind my book.