I need to complain.
One week out of each month I spend with my 91 year old mother. I take her out and away from her very nice assisted living, and whisk her off to shopping; doctor appointments; out to eat; drives in the city; drives to the beach; drives to look at pretty houses; home to her house to pick up more clothes, hats, scarves, gloves, etc; out for coffee; more shopping and more shopping.
Sounds so nice, doesn't it? And it might be if we weren't related. She has had a good life, despite WWII and the Depression. She has wanted for little. She has had face lifts, spa treatments, travel, the theater, and all the clothes that all the closets in the house could hold. She is cute and feisty and everyone loves her. Me included. But. Still.
She makes lists for me to do. Lists of things to get for her. Lists of things to do for the house. (Calling the termite man is one I won't ignore).
And today, she told me she wants me to write to her from Houston to let her know I'm alive when I'm not here. Oh, yes, forgot to mention. When I come out here for a week at a time, I fly from Houston, 4 hours (plus airport hang around time) and take the shuttle from the airport, another hour if I'm lucky.
I am an artist, so today, when things were pretty intolerable, I imagined narrative drawings of my mother wrapped around my throat cutting off my air and circulation. Strangling me.
So, being the only surviving member of this family and being the good duty bound woman that I am, I now feel guilty.
And I need to go hem her new pajamas.
The web pages of some very good artists.
- roger lee's sculpture
- professor art, reflections on life and the creative process
- mark adams
- somethings i think about- annell livingstone
- harry stooshinoff
- banner mountain textiles
- katherine treffinger
- cecilia levy
- andy feehan
- mallory arts
- andre fromont
- richard russell
- susan rudat
- michael rohde
- HJ bott
- made in mississippi
- lydia bodnar balahutrak
- tim glover
- kelly moran
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folk art and other tasty bits
- Gail Siptak
- I am living and painting in the little town of Houston. A far way from my San Francisco beginnings. I paint what I see of the human condition, be it human, animal or object. The glimmer of humor, pathos, and spirit in so much of what I see is the basis of what I paint.
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