Last week I was doing the dishes when a glass broke, resulting in a nasty cut to my left arm. My sister drove me to urgent care, where I received five stitches and a dismissive bandaid which hardly prompted the kind of sympathy I was looking for at home. The thing is, this isn’t my first rodeo. I had stitches as the result of a previous dishwashing incident and I’m at the point where I’m pretty sure the doctors are going to start doubting my story.
“You say it was another dishwashing accident? Uh huh.”
Not to get too graphic, but this cut was on a meaty part of my arm that doesn’t hurt at all so it’s business as usual in the studio. Plus, I’m right-handed and both of my jagged dish-related scars are on my left. The stitches come out at the end of the week and Dr. Rossman has gleefully offered to remove them with his fly-tying scissors so I have that to look forward to.
In the meantime, I painted this.
My kids are at that age when everything on their Christmas list has a power cord and costs at least 200 bucks. These are kids that live in a house with three tablets, two iMacs, a laptop and Kindles galore so what new gadget they could possible want/need is beyond my comprehension. It’s a tough age though, because all their friends are getting the latest and greatest (my kids don’t even have phones yet) and there will be the inevitable gift show-and-tell after Christmas break. Dr. Rossman and I started thinking: maybe it’s time to take advantage of this impressionable age by being the ones making the impression.
So we’re having a handmade Christmas.
After the initial eye-rolling and panic, the kids have accepted their fate and are even a little excited about planning out what to make for their sibling and parents. I found that I was the one having the hardest time deciding what to make since I am banning myself from giving the expected: paintings. I was telling my son this morning that I had been on Pinterest looking for ideas and he scoffed, “I think we should have to come up with ideas without the internet.”
It’s that time of year again! This has been a big week of painting, coffee-drinking and trips to the post office – all in preparation for Holiday 2014. It’s also the time of year when I talk a lot about painting but don’t really post any pictures because they are someone’s Christmas gift and I can’t ruin the surprise. In the meantime, here is a link to a review that was posted on Big Bark after I painted two great Great Danes.
And yes, there is still time to order for the holidays! Art is my full-time gig now, so I have plenty of time to get ‘er done.
Feliz Dia de Los Muertos! My Spanish is horrible, so I apologize in advance, especially to my pretty fluent husband who shakes his head at my pronunciation daily. We have these odd conversations where he speaks to me in Spanish, I understand completely but reply in English.
It’s Day of the Dead, which is wrapped up with Halloween to make my favorite holiday cluster. This year I even made a little family shrine which is something I’ve planned to do but procrastinated for a couple years. Years. I had so much fun putting it together that I’m considering making up a few to sell, like little kits.
We went on a weekend cruise to Mexico last month and my favorite part of the whole trip was browsing the shops, particularly one that was dedicated exclusively to Dia de Los Muertos imagery. My sister and mom had been there before and finally got me there too. I picked up some papel picado, which are lovely intricate paper banners. I put mine up in the studio and will keep it up year round, like I do most of my Dia de Los Muertos stuff. What can I say, I love skulls.
Halloween is my favorite. This year, Dr. Rossman and I fulfilled one of my costume-y dreams by dressing as Richie and Margot Tenenbaum from The Royal Tenenbaums. If you haven’t seen the movie, they are sad-serious characters, so that is why our expressions are sad-serious. We had to do a lot of photo retakes because we were laughing.
My real costume dream was to have our kids in matching red Adidas tracksuits, but they are past the age when we can tell them how to dress. Sigh.