No, I’m Not Going to Gloat

I had a post written a week ago that I edited and rewrote at least four times. The post covered the egregious misstatements made and circulated widely about President Obama for the last four years, including,

• He’s a Communist/Socialist
• He’s not an American Citizen
• He’s a Muslim

And, today, I deleted it. I’m too mentally exhausted to go there. How are you feeling? Mentally and emotionally fatigued?

Granted, I was awake on and off all night long listening to the outcome on my radio. So, that’s where the physical exhaustion comes from. The mental and emotional fatigue has much to do with trying to gird myself against the ridiculous and hateful accusations and insults thrown at our President since he was elected. It’s also weariness that stems from watching a Congress fight with each other for four years and accomplish so very little.

I’m sick of the platitudes, aren’t you? Yes, we all want our elected representatives to “reach across the aisle” and work together. Will they reach across the aisle to discuss a compromise, or will they reach across and pinch the delicate, very sensitive, fleshy underside of their opponent’s upper arm?

That remains to be seen. But compromise won’t happen unless we citizens demand that both sides agree to disagree on some issues, but still move forward and make decisions that allow both sides to feel a win is applauding in the room. We have to write the people we elected and demand they stop making governing more about their chances of returning to office and more about what they can do that moves us even a few inches closer to a solution.

I hope to get a better night’s sleep this night. And I’m sure my dogs do, as well. I was a bit vocal while lying there in bed listening to the radio.

Forward.

Magenta Quail

C MY Kolors

You’ll have to talk to people…

Talking to strangers isn’t a skill of mine. Talking about art isn’t a skill of mine. Talking to people about my art? I can feel my throat tightening up right now.

My art show opening at the Basement Gallery is this Saturday from 4:30 pm – 9 pm. The gallery owner, a very sweet and accomplished woman, told me that I should be there at 4:30 and during the event she’ll be sending people over to talk to me.

I hope they’ll do most of the talking. My plan was to hang out by the buffet and eat and smile. Eating, smiling AND talking to strangers is just going to give me indigestion. One of my biggest fears is dropping a canapé on my shirt. But the biggest fear is that my temporary veneer will fall out after taking a bite off a crusty roll.

I’ll let you all know how it turns out.

Extrovert

 

 

Watercolor Friday: Fast and Furious

Life has microscoped into brief seconds. All it takes is one additional obligation or duty or task and I can feel the ends of rope that I had carefully attached my life with, fraying wildly. This week and the next, I have my sister’s dog, Satan, I mean, Carmella, to care for. She’s not a bad dog at all. She’s sweet, lovable, alarmingly cute, and full of energy. But three dogs in the bed makes for no leg, arm or head room.

Work is busier than ever. I’m working on a media campaign that will last throughout the year. It means quite a few print ads to develop and a social media promotion that will consume a ton of time.

In the meantime, I’m scurrying to get at least 10-15 more paintings done for my upcoming gallery show on March 24. It’s exciting. I’m nervous. What if no one shows up? But, there is a press release here. A press release! My very first. And I always thought that the first press release about me might be one announcing my attempt to plummet 23 miles from the atmosphere while blogging.

I wish all of my readers could attend my show. Not so much that I need to fill the gallery, but because it would be delightful to meet you. We’d have a great time. I’d forget how utterly awkward I am around strangers. We could all hang out at the buffet while people make snarky comments about my art. We could pretend to be some avant-garde artsy gang and wear berets and black. People would want to know us!

Instead, I’ll drag my introverted self off to the show’s opening, plaster an enigmatic grin on my face, and constantly stuff my face with hors d’oeuvres just in case someone tries to talk to me.

My latest painting is done – it’s called Louise of Arabia.

Louise of Arabia by Snoring Dog Studio

Watercolor Friday: Brussels Sprouts and Skepticism

Run (In Process)

I’m not a frequently hyper-skeptical person. I don’t often raise my eyebrows when I hear about the most recent antioxidant-containing berry, a new and improved device, the newest innovative software, a better mousetrap, and so on. I give the inventors and researchers the benefit of the doubt for a little while—usually about 5 seconds.

But like night follows the day and indigestion follows a meal of fried foods, eventually someone will foist upon consumers another product that roils my skeptical side.

Take this silicone bracelet I just paid 5 dollars for. I was coerced into purchasing it. The people I work with, whose opinions I respect, tell me it gets rid of joint pain. They swear by it. They’re all certain that the mysterious disappearance of their joint pain and their improved energy levels can be traced to the wearing of a rubber bracelet.

The bracelet has two round shiny foil pieces attached to either side. I was told that these foil pieces don’t have to touch my skin to work. Seems to me, then, I could leave the bracelet at home in the bottom of my kitchen junk drawer and receive the same “benefits.”

In most cases, I’ve found that the cure for joint and muscle pain is time. Given enough time and rest, just about any physical ailment, other than a decapitation, will get better. You might want a hot bath or two or some Ibuprofen, but eventually you wake up one morning and the pain is gone.

I wore the rubber power balance bracelet for two whole days. I never took it off. I woke up each morning with stiff knees and my usual lower back pain.

Well, I’m not convinced. You could say I’m skeptical, yes. But I figure that gluing a Brussels sprout behind each ear would have as much restorative powers as a rubber bracelet with shiny foil that doesn’t even have to touch my skin. And I’d much rather explain why I’m wearing Brussels sprouts than come up with an explanation for a rubber bracelet and have to use words like these:

“My bracelet uses holographic technology to resonate with and respond to the natural energy field of my body.”

On second thought, I’ve gone well beyond skeptical and I want my five dollars back.

At some point, most of us want to believe in something outside of ourselves that can make us more flexible, stronger, smarter, more youthful, and thinner, and relieve us from pain. Those times when we’re feeling weak, helpless, or desperate are often occasions when we put our questioning minds behind a dark curtain. We partition off our doubt from the reasoning that comes with a healthy dose of natural skepticism.

I think the best thing to do when you encounter a miracle product or a far-reaching claim is to take a deep breath and either say out loud or quietly to yourself: “I need more information. I think I’ll wait.” And if the pressure to hop on board is too compelling, then run.

Numerous independent studies of the device found it to be completely ineffective at improving athletic performance, and the manufacturer was forced to retract its claims in 2010. 

Watercolor Friday (And Some Random Thoughts)

The Disintegrating Magic Carpet by Snoring Dog Studio

She's a Peach by Snoring Dog Studio

Here come those Santa Ana winds again. One of my favorite songs by one of my favorite groups, Steely Dan, came to life this week in California.

Gingrich says his front-runner status is “disorienting.” Could it be that he WAS only in it to push his books and accumulate high paying lecture deals? A man with lots of ideas isn’t necessarily the man to elect for President. But so goes the mess that is the Republican party.

Older people are now a large portion of the population. Hear that, you brats and whippersnappers? Yesterday, I spent a little time downtown at our local First Thursday event to check out some galleries and shops. By the time I left, my feet were groaning loudly. Arches had gone almost completely flat. I was walking on pancakes for feet. My legs ached as well. I got to a stoplight, hit the walk button and when the white walker showed on the signal I began to shuffle across the street. 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, seconds … WAIT A MINUTE, people! I’m still in the middle of the crosswalk! How do the elderly and physically challenged get across the street in time? If we’re all going to be living among a bunch of old people, things are gonna’ have to change, starting with those traffic signals. We need double the amount of time to get across. We may even need helpers. There’s a job for some out of work children and youth!

I sat through the fourteen minute Lady Gaga video. The Cheerios had a lot of fun. “They say I lost everything. But I still had my BeDazzler.” Almost 8 minutes into it, she finally starts to sing and dance. Lady Gaga is incredible—quite an entertainer, but she’s got far more substance than Britney Spears or any of the pop stars on the scene today. I hope she has a long, healthy career.

Watercolor Friday at Snoring Dog Studio

Pondering the Deep

We’re expecting rainy, snowy weather today and during some of the weekend. Tomorrow I’ll be heading over to do a Fall Rake-Up event at a home somewhere nearby. That’s the kind of volunteering I like to do: something active and helpful. But every bit helps in volunteering.

So much has happened this year to make it a very different year from all the others. My parents finally were convinced they needed to move. They now live in a beautiful, one-story home next to my oldest brother in San Antonio, Texas. It’s a relief having them closer to a relative. None of us siblings expect our older brother to be next door constantly, but at least when Dad runs out of chocolate, my mom and he won’t have to drive themselves out to replenish the supply. I think we’ll all rest a bit easier now. My mother gets her arm cast off in a few days. Their new home is better lighted and so we’re hoping for no further incidences of stumbling around in the dark and missing the toilet seat.

My sister retired on November 1 this year. And then she shaved her head. Completely. She tells us the reason was so that she could discover what her true hair color really is. I believe the reason was to shed the past, to start fresh. She has a beautiful skull. Perfectly shaped, now with a brisk turf of salt and pepper hair. No one, at least not enough people, will ever realize what an incredible asset my sister has been in all the jobs she held. She worked long hours without being requested to, she held herself to a standard that few people could match. She made a difference in each company and she made a difference in people’s lives. She believed and still believes in doing the right thing. She is the most honest person I’ve ever met. And she never, ever stood by while others said, “Yes” when the response should have been anything but. When my sister came home that last day from work — late again because she needed to tie up “loose ends,” and not leave a mess behind for her staff, I reminded her of her saying, “Expect Ingratitude.” A legacy of worth would be nice, but people forget. I wish her a long and joyous retirement. I’m looking for a lot more home-cooked meals now that she’s got the time to prepare them. And I remind her of the saying, “Expect Ingratitude.”

Today, many, many years ago, a girl was born in Greenville, South Carolina. Today, at 8:00 am in Boise, a man will die. It’s his time. Someone enters the world, lives through decades, some stay to see what’s next, some leave to face whatever is next.

It’s a joyful day. It’s a somber day.

Be at peace, friends.

My Artist Biography and Watercolor Friday!

Before I venture on to the next art gallery and foist my work upon them, I’m told I must have an artist biography, written in the third person. Piece of cake! I think.

Snoring Dog Studio was born a long time ago. The year isn’t important. Stop asking! Her first painting project was …

Snoring Dog Studio first noticed an interest in painting while watching her mom paint her masterpiece, “Sunflowers.” What, Van Gogh painted that? You lie!!

Snoring Dog Studio came out of the womb holding onto a paintbrush. Metaphorically speaking. DUH!

Snoring Dog Studio chose watercolor as her medium after suffering a severe bout of hives when her hands came into contact with oil paints. Or, it was the fifth of vodka. I can’t remember.

Snoring Dog Studio paints watercolors, when she’s not practicing her first love: nude topiary.

Okay, this isn’t going that well. I’d rather have someone else write it for me.

This is, officially speaking, Watercolor Friday. I know I’ve missed a few. The last painting I posted was destroyed.

Yuk.

By me, as a matter of fact. I took it into the kitchen and washed all the paint and pencil off. That’s one of the reasons YUPO paper is so useful. Because of its slick surface, it can be re-used. I’m thinking of using it to paper one of the rooms in my house.

Sometimes a painting just isn’t successful. One of the learned skills of a better artist is the ability to recognize when you’ve reworked a painting all it can stand and, yet, it gets worse and worse. Nothing is improving it. Saying goodbye and starting over used to be very painful for me. I’m still speaking of painting here.

I started this painting last weekend.

Needs a Title

I’m liking it a lot. I don’t have a title for it, yet. How about you all suggesting one?

And while you’re at it … any of you Facebook peeps who can spare the time – could you please wander over to my Snoring Dog Studio Facebook page and “like” it? I’d like that.

Have a marvelous weekend!

Watercolor Friday

Strings Attached (Still on the drawing board!)

You Don't Know Me Well Enough to Insult Me (In process)

Again, excuse the crummy quality of my photos. I’m hoping the iPhone5 will truly take better pics. Oh, yeah, operator error. Forgot about that.

I feel rushed lately and out of time to do anything and when I do stop to do something, it seems fevered and incomplete. Though I’ve enjoyed it, I’m eager to see this year’s event season, with multiple lost weekends because of work, pass on. I’ve got a 16-hour workday today because I’ll be spending a huge portion of it at the first ever Idaho Supercross event at Meridian Speedway. It should be exciting! Then, tomorrow, it’s booth time at another event in Garden City. Lost weekend.

I’m anxious to get behind the drawing board more often. The garden is being neglected, partly because it’s nearly October, and their watering ritual is coming to a close. Hope they’re ready for a winter. I am. Tomatoes! Ripen, will you!

To all my blogging and reader friends: Happy Friday! Spend it with people you love!

Watercolor Friday

Strings Attached (In Process)

Weekends of working at events, a few trips, gardening chores and a standing date with my sister and brother to watch episodes of Dexter each evening have kept me from my watercolor painting passion.

Sometimes summer is so full it gets in the way, and, so, by September I begin to look forward to the quiet seasons. By September, the last of the baseball games are played across the street from my house. The stadium lights will no longer remind me that bustle extends beyond my walls. Cars, filled with baseball fans and players, will leave the area, taking their enthusiastic noisemakers with them. The ice cream truck goes into storage, mercifully silencing the jangling looney tunes for a brief respite.

I’ll stop wrestling with my vegetable garden and let it give way to crisp brown-ness. No more rushing out to the tomato and pepper plants to find evening’s meal waiting to be prepped. Small reminders that summer is over will become more routine: when I pull up the lettuce plants, see the last of the gaillardia and primrose blooms, find the flies to be less numerous and insistent, and notice more fallen leaves along the gravel path in my backyard. What are your reminders?

Autumn is quiet for a person who doesn’t follow football. The sport heats up all around me, and save for the distant rumble from the college stadium and a few banal (yes, I said that) conversations at work, I won’t feel the tension that can come with Autumn football season.

Winter slips into place by November and then the remaining sounds of summer disappear. The skateboarders leave the skate park across the street next to the baseball fields. The adolescents take their raucous excitement and strident words juddering against the “f” word and go somewhere else. I wonder where? Perhaps to hone their vocabulary?

Will others feel the reprieve from summer’s chaos like I do?

But I’m afraid that the fall and winter months won’t be as unobtrusive as I like. The insistent clatter of the upcoming elections will intrude for one who doesn’t often disappear from in front of the computer. I’ll try harder during the quiet seasons this year to get away and seek out whatever life is going on during these next few months. First Thursday art crawls will go on, taking me downtown, reminding me that people get out and do things in the evenings! Hiking will be better tolerated in the softer weather as will walking the dogs.

And, if past fall and winter seasons are any standard, the clouds will roll in, blanket the sky and stay there, leaving some of us feeling blue, heavy and oppressed. Not me, though. I welcome the dimming of the too harsh summer light. I’ve got ample lighting in my little studio here.

His view: Autumn and the World Turns

I Have

officially lost my sense of humor. I’ll be back when I locate it. I’m starting outside in my backyard somewhere in the vicinity of the vole trench.

Just Out of Reach