learning to speak Ipad

Well, I went and did the unthinkable.  I bought an Ipad with the intent of joining the 21st century.  I get along great with my simple cell phone and my computer, but doing art work on the Ipad is going to take training wheels and a good deal of time.  As an artist, like many artists, especially old ones like me, tech stuff, I find VERY difficult.  Part of the problem, the biggest part, is that I'd rather not read instructions. I mean I don't even know how to work the coffee maker, as I usually only have coffee when someone is in town...then they have to make it.  The other part of the problem is that nothing is simple anymore.  Like the tv.  No more easy off and on.  No knobs.  Yeah, yeah, I know there haven't been knobs since like 1975, but even the remotes were simpler then. 

So, I'm learning....but at dowager snail speed.  Meantime, I'm working on some good sized paintings that incorporate my mother in law's wall paper.  Collage and paint.  That I understand.

Peace.

to ipad or not.

It finally rained here.  Grateful us.  Only downside is the mosquitoes are back.  And I'm back working in the studio on drought banishing paintings.  Can't help but be influenced by what is happening around me. I'm considering buying an ipad......it looks like fun and maybe could do sketches when I'm off to Calif every month.  But, it means getting my brain cells around more technology...can I get them out of retirement and into the moment?  It remains to be seen.  But I could also play movies on the plane and read a book that doesn't weigh 3 lbs.  Surely this is a good move.  Hummm, thinking about it....almost ready to do it. 

Peace.

the morning after

It was one of those nights when the air conditioner was broken in the record heat wave in June.  When reading, nor listening to my MP3 nor watching tv would coerce me into sleep.  Sleeping felt like what I must do,  knowing the morning would bring the monthly trip to California.  But the mind is a child when there is a must do required.   Waking after pieces of sleep felt like I was all apart.  My molecules were spinning off in different directions and causing denial and confusion amongst the body parts.  Even the stomach had something to say.  The kindest remedy was to sit in the reading chair downstairs, doing nothing, musing delicately so as not to disturb the balance of molecules attempting to realign, and watching the sun begin to dance across the wood and textiles in the room as a new day began.

And now, contemplating toothpaste and shower, I know that my morning ahead,  in the sky, watching the earth roll by, I will sleep on the plane and all will be well.

Peace.

hot hot hot

Needless to say, it's hot.  We are in a record breaking drought in a place that is normally sub-tropical.  Scary thoughts seep into one's mind when thinking of tornadoes, floods, droughts and fire....all happening at the same time.
While doing the good and hopeful things like not running the water while doing the brushing of the teeth, and taking canvas bags to the grocery store and keeping the A/C as high as possible, I am making every attempt to remain optimistic and buoyant.  Getting to be an old fart has the benefit of having lived through a lot of the debris of life and knowing that we'll get through it.

Meanwhile, painting, reading, watching and listening and hoping for the best.

Peace.  And maybe a little rain?

there is no place like home

Houston is heating up for the summer.  It happens fast, like someone opening the glory hole at a glass blower's.  One day it's a balmy 72 degrees and the next:  95 and sucking the air out of you.  Then we all say: Why do we live here???  I think the answer is habit.  We all visit places where the weather is fine, but then we come home and rationalize.  I count it on my fingers:

October through May....IF we are lucky....that is eight months of good weather, right? No snow, no ice.  Well once in a while.  And if I'm honest it's usually November through the first half of May for good weather.  And once in a while, Christmas is scorching.  And no place is perfect.  We do have the occasional hurricane. 

But we stay and we come back because of family and friends and habit.  This is where we dug in and got comfortable.  There is no place like home.  There is no place like home.  There is no place like home.

Peace and coolness.

Looking after mom.

Back in California visiting what my mother calls the "loony bin, you know the one that flew over the cuckoo's nest"  and she knows it well.  She resides there in the loony bin with Lewy Body Dementia....not regular dementia or Alzheimer's but the really loopy one complete with hallucinations and delusions.  Most of the people in her very assisted living abode have various forms of dementia and many have Alzheimer's. Most do not carry on conversations.  My mother like to talk. But not to them.  And worry about what people think ....but mostly about what they are thinking about her.  I believe this comes under the gray umbrella of paranoia.  She has been in this facility for the past 26 months.  And I visit 2000 miles one way and 2000 miles back once a month for a week or a little more.

I would like to think that I am a caring person....I guess I am....but honestly there is some guilt that drives the plane here every month.  And that need to "please your mother".  Much as we love our mothers, there is always that tone of voice, that can bring us to our knees.  In my case it's " GAaaailllll."  my name drawn out in long and judgemental syllables.  And she worries about me.  And that is so sweet, so how can I bitch and complain.  Well, for one thing she's not reading my blog, so that's how.

Peace Peace .....please, Peace.

Studio cleanup so I don't have to paint.

Moving things around in the studio is, according to mood:

1. Destructive.
2. Invigorating.
3. Hair Pulling.
4. Renewing.
5. Baffling.

I find I don't really need to buy new hanging apparatus as there are three under the table, several on the flat file, and many amongst the cockroach wings and legs in the corners.  I know....gross.

I find I have more supplies than I would have guessed....and most are not dried up
.
I find many artifacts of nature once or twice used in still life or intended for such, most are dried up.

I find brushes, long fossilized, that I could never throw away because they might be useful someday.

I also find objects that look like they belong to something.  I have to keep them in case I figure it out someday.

I finally shove most of it back into drawers and behind other things and go back to painting.  I was just procrastinating anyway.

Can you relate?    Peace.