D Selby Designs

Birthdays, birthdays

Zu (OLD friend!) on the 25th, Carey yesterday, Griffin and Jackson today. Am determined to spend the day painting, but it’s already 11:00 and here I am blogging!

Have come to two decisions. One, you won’t like. The cats aren’t working out. Too much hair in the wet paint on canvases, too much sprawling wherever I’m trying to work, and too much spit-up greeting us each morning–on carpet or upholstery, never on the tile floor. In other words, the only time they leave the studio is to hurl a bomb for OCD-Greg. And after two months, there’s no emotional connection with these gals like we’ve had with our other cats. Hate taking them back, although I’ve never seen adoption cats treated better than at Woodford Humane Society.

Irony: second decision is also about ‘placement’ of another gal. I’m finally on board with everyone else in my sphere, that Mom should stay in the rehab center. She is always so delighted to see me when I visit (I’ve cut back to every other day), but within 15 minutes or less, her mind begins to wander. My sibs are coming for a visit on Mother’s Day weekend. It will be good to have them see where she’s staying and to let them weigh in again. Though I know how they feel, or I wouldn’t have come to this decision. Season-of-Life stuff is hard.

One good thing Reba did yesterday, as seen in the image: she reminded me that the first layers of Peppermint Posse have been untouched for too long. Been focusing on cows (Centurions of the Tree). And on tasks. Why is it that one or two little things that requires driving to Lex (which has been every day, this week) kills the entire day? Mind set: must leave soon, so don’t mix any paint. Afterwards: light is fading, so don’t mix any paint and besides, it’s time to plan dinner.

Good news: Chair with Red Gerbers is in a summer show at MSU and five other pieces are headed to Paducah for a Guild show.

Taking Stock

How did I end up with so many frames? And canvases?

I’ve said it before: I am a better shopper than user of purchases. Although preparing for participation in three shows at once, it’s a good thing. Greg is putting together more chopped moldings and I am doing what I always forget to do until Greg reminds me: signing paintings.

Spent an hour searching high and low for a couple of paintings that I’m sure I haven’t sold, and then remembered that we have a storage unit for bundles of issues of Spool. That memory was followed by a vague recollection that we moved some paintings over to the unit last fall. Then I had a cup of tea and contemplated just how far into dementia Mom has dragged me.

Easter was so lovely. Kids home, Mom here for dinner, big meal I enjoyed cooking, and clean up by Greg–that I enjoyed even more. Enjoyed it too much? We all sacked out on the patio or in the grass and missed the afternoon baptism service in the pond at church. Would have liked to have seen the 315 people take the plunge, but did see part by video in last Sunday’s service. My scheduled Sunday in the coffee shop is this week, then double duty since there are five Sundays this month.

Am simply WALLOWING in this time of freedom while Mom’s in the rehab center. Am struggling with a decision. Does she stay, or does she come back here? Send up your prayers for my discernment.

What’s a Non-Sports Fan to Do?

Or is it ‘sports non-fan’?

Go, Cats.

No, I mean it. Go away from my window. Congratulations on winning the NCAA, guys. Even though I don’t follow sports, I would vote for KY to win because–hey, why not?–I live in KY. But: am I required to respond to every fanatic in a way that makes me one of the, er, team? Fans are outraged, outraged by my non-interest! And I’m the one considered rude?  I don’t ask them to get excited about Georgia O’Keeffe’s amazingly modern early work. And they should get excited. I’m just saying. When we are in a social situation and Greg gets to the hyperventilation stage over something that is obviously of no interest to the other people at the table, I gently tap his leg, and he changes the subject. Try THAT on a hyperventilating Cats fan. You’d lose a finger.

In a conversation the other day, I said I fell asleep before the end of the game the night before, and asked, did ‘we’ win? The other person laughed and said, “I don’t believe a word of it!” I laughed, too, letting him believe I’m such a jokester. From his good mood, I accurately assumed that the Cats had won.

Living under a rock is looking pretty good, today. But that guy’s uni-brow (Davis?) is pretty interesting. And when Kidd-Gilcrest’s ankle twisted I nearly came off the sofa. Then there’s Darius Miller, staying til his senior year. What ballplayers do that anymore? And there’s Teaque and Lamb and, of course, Coach Cal. Fight the sound bites.  Secure rock roof in place. Fight the sound bites, and paint.

Rainy Palm Sunday Yesterday, then the Sun Came Out!

Yes, It was Sunday. Yes, we regularly worship–not because we have to, but because we want to. And yes, it was Palm Sunday which is huge in our faith history. But: Greg was exhausted from his week of work in WV at his dad’s place, it was gray and rainy, and by 10:30, he still wasn’t up. So I made the executive decision to worship at home. Another pot of coffee, which finally woke him up, the Sunday paper spread all around, and then reading Mark 11.

Here’s what I took from it: the people were welcoming Jesus into town as a king, waving branches, shouting, praising. And in less than a week, they’d be crying ‘Crucify Him!’ How quickly the opinion of man changes! So, why do we continue to seek approval? As a creative person, that seems to have been my life’s work: not the work itself as much as the search for approval. So this week, I plan to paint for art’s sake, knowing I have the approval of the only One whose approval counts.

“Quit Throwing Coffee In My Face!”

…is what my keyboard would say if it could talk.

Trying to get all of my artwork into a digital inventory control program and it’s making me tired. Not the program, but seeing how much painting I’ve done in the past five years. Not to mention the 30 or so that are in process. When did that happen? I truly do inhabit a private universe most days.

My bangs were bothering me yesterday, and I had the thought that I should go see Alicia for a trim. This morning, they were trimmed. Hey, friends don’t let friends trim their own bangs after taking Ambien. They look pretty good, just a little lopsided and short, but I don’t look in the mirror more than twice a day (brushing teeth) anyway, so it’s your problem having to look at me.

Yesterday was a Black-Eyed Peas ‘Good Day’. Cousin Sue took Mom to lunch, which means I got to stay in, and the cats steered clear, so much was accomplished. Including my realization that I have gone from fair to crap in the watercolor technique arena. “Just do the work.” Stretched out on the sofa while the tea kettle revved up, and Golda dive bombed my rib cage. She has serious tonnage. After I screamed in her ear and dumped her, she walked past Reba in one of the cat beds, and Reba took a swipe at her. Poor girl.

Shiftless

Mom is ‘in care’ for the time being, and so the logical conclusion should be that I’d be painting, painting, painting. The last 6 years have messed with my mind, so there have been several unproductive weeks of reading, thinking, and staring into space. But: last week, I started back to work.

This image is of a foal–it being spring, and me being in KY. I did the underpainting in acrylic and just started adding oil glazes and a bit of impasto, and I kind of like it as it is. Am also working on some tea/fruit/whatever small canvases for Cindy’s tea room that opens in a couple of weeks. The apple trees bloomed super early so I hope that the cold snap the other night did not affect them.

Greg’s birthday brought two cats to our family, and they are shedding fools. Making good use of the tweezers I keep on the easel. The tabby is Reba Rush. Her namesake was the sweet white-haired lady who roomed and boarded Greg and Dennis when they did their student teaching. The farm is now in Louisville-proper, so is a housing community. Mrs. Rush fed them like kings for $20 a week–and gave them each $20 for graduation! She was a jewel, RIP. Our Reba, not so much. She bosses the other cat, Golda My Ear, and thinks my watercolor table is her roost. Don’t tell PETA, but I’ve taken the water spray bottle to her sassy little face. Golda is still carrying her baby weight (five adopted kitties, but not adopted by moi!) and is a beast. She is a lap sitter, so when she jumps up it’s like a bowling ball landing.

Other image: the downside of using odorless brush cleaner is that I sometimes forget to clean brushes! Found that to be the case this morning.

God bless my cousins. Sue is visiting with Mom today, so I get to stay home. Greg is in WV dealing with his folks, so it’s just me, the cats, and my big easel. Yea!

Scouting Out Nursing Homes

Life barges in. Painting time, as well as the will to do so, has been replaced by the need to find permanent care for Mom. I should be so mobile when I hit 92 (or 72!) but the symphony of her mind is skipping entire movements. It all makes sense, logically, but when I visit nursing homes and see the residents, they aren’t my mother–neither in appearance nor energy.

When does ‘self’ take the place of ‘serve’? What makes my time more important than someone else’s, someone for whom I have full responsibility? If we raise our kids, do we ‘lower’ our parents?

On a cheerier note, I am so enjoying watching the morning frost as the sun hits it. Frost disappears quickly, except for the long horizontal tree shadows. Since the frost is white and the grass is dark, it’s an interesting reversal of values. Tomorrow afternoon, we are supposed to get actual snow. I’m looking forward to it, just hoping my north-bound kids don’t run into any on Jelico Mountain.

Took delivery of a bunch of Jerry’s Artarama canvases today–my Valentine’s gift. Greg? He gets his Rolex conditioned. That was not a metaphor. The watch was a gift many years ago, and Greg is nothing if not a wonderful steward of possessions. Me, I’m more about doing than keeping.

Snow’s Here. So’s The Red Queen.

School was called off yesterday, probably because it’s taken so long for winter to finally arrive in Kentucky. The amount of snow on the hill behind our house was essentially pitiful, but the neighborhood kids were not to be denied. I stood in the window and laughed at them as they sledded. They probably think I’m the old hag ready to shake her fist and say, “You darned kids get out of my yard,” when it’s just the opposite.

Our son dropped in for a free meal last night, and it confirmed my suspicion that the Red Queen (Winter 2011, www.spoolmag.com) amongst us is my husband: “Off with your boots, Zach!”

Working today on a small painting of a white house through an arch of morning glories. Perhaps I’ll add a zombie to the foreground to make it look less chocolate-boxy.

Playing with Internet Rather Than Painting

Who’s heard of Zazzle? I put Apple Tea on a mouse pad (does anyone still use mouse pads?) and am fritzing around the internet because I jammed my middle finger yesterday. (Insert your own middle finger jokes, here.) Bending my hand to accommodate paint brushes is painful.

Anyone want Box of Chocolates on a Zazzle product?

http://rlv.zcache.com/apple_tea_mousepad-p144242459576828702yn_325.jpg

Today is Zach’s 30th, so we enjoyed a nice dinner at Copper River last night, and then for a special birthday treat, he kept an eye on his gran while we went to see War Horse. Take a hanky with you.

Morning Has Broken

Still working on early morning portrait of Carey, and was coming along nicely until I lost it last night with my demented mother. Takes one to know one?

She came into the studio at 5:55 and asked, in a  snippy tone, just how late did I think I was going to stay up? She laughed when I told her what time it was, then dropped into her chair. It was just dark, all the studio lights were on, and all the window blinds were up. While I was intently concentrating on the large shadow area on the canvas, she drilled into my head, repeatedly and at length, how a woman shouldn’t be in a lit room with all the blinds up, how she wished she knew how to close the blinds, how some man could break in and really do some harm, how could I stand to work with it so dark out and anyone can see in, yada, yadda, yaddda. Yep. I lost it. And lost the right color for the shadow. Painted the *&%@ thing, anyway, and now must wait a couple of days and glaze it.

I am enjoying working with acrylics, which I never thought I’d say. Golden has it right. This is a piece I’d like to send to the Berea Artisan Center for a show called “About Face” and there’s no time for oils. When Mom came into the studio an hour ago, I greeted her with, “Please don’t talk to me while I’m painting.” She was quiet for 20 minutes, so I suppose my hissy fit last night made an impression–as she usually can’t hold a thought for more than a minute. I am an awful person. I felt guilty and fixed her and Greg lunch. I grizzled to him, “If I could just be alone, I could paint!” He asked if I’d like for him to leave, and take her on a drive (he was joking), and I said, “Yeah, every day at 8. See you back here at 6.” He thought I was joking.