Quote of The Day

Sunday, March 30, 2008

Sunday Scribblings " OUT OF THIS WORLD"

Painting can be a wild and crazy process!
This little angel is in art heaven and no longer exists.
She is the before version of the one below.
My little cyber soul mate angel wasn't happy with her atrocious blond mop top.She didn't appreciate being put in a pink circle either.Before she dawned the green dress, and changed to brunette tresses, she sported an unflattering silver dress that she demanded to be removed. All she needs is a coat of flexible varnish, she'll be ready to be released.
Maybe it's not actually me that's crazy, perhaps it's the artist within!
Sunday Scribblings " Out of this World"

Lately I have felt like I am OUT OF THIS WORLD alright. My sleeping has switched from night to day and well that’s all I’m gonna say about that!! When did the world become such a stranger?

This week I learned what a tramp stamp is. What a nasty word for a lower back tattoo. Nice permanent label considering it’s pretty difficult to have it removed. Are men ever referred to as tramps? I’ve never heard it! Even though it’s 2008 and the Americans have the possibility, not the probability for the first women president, we’ve still not evolved enough!

Rarely do you hear me rant about the accomplishments of women over the last three decades. Although it may trickle it into a poem or two, it’s not likely my strong opinions would sit well with my male blogging friends. But I bet they wouldn’t mind hearing what a dumbass I was tonight.

I went for dinner with a friend, we stopped for groceries afterwards. My car is still kaput. We moseyed through the store, chatting along the way. My friend bought an elephant. Not a real one of course. But you never know…. because I DO feel like I'M OUTTA THIS WORLD!

What the hell happens to us when we get old? I swear crazy sets right in, ready to reside permanently. I bumped into Vincent; I was his very first customer on his cashier training shift three weeks ago. I felt like Micheal Keaton in Mr Mom where his kids old shirt keeps turning up in the laundry portraying his redundant life. Here I am again, on my day out of the asylum, grocery shopping. Whoop de do! One hundred sixty five dollars later, we left the store. My two recyclable bags jammed full, along with the bad grocery bags. (Note to self, bring more of my own canvas bags next time.) I never expect my friends to take me shopping; when they do, I expect to pick up only a few things. Yeah, that never happens. Meanwhile we are happily chatting away while loading the car with groceries. My buddy relays her experience the other day in our favorite pharmacy, how she was so concerned about finding the right makeup Concealer that she accidentally bought the sample. I couldn’t stop giggling, she was about to finish the story, but first I wanted to return my buggy.

While escorting my cart back to it’s post, I continued repeating the makeup scenario over in my mind, escalating my laughter. For humorous affect I added YOU KNOW YOU’RE OLD WHEN, unremitting in my head, just like a crazy person. You see, I love to laugh! I retrieved my coin from the buggy, proceeding back to the car I open the passenger side door. I’m startled to see someone sitting in my seat. The woman looks at me horrified. It took a few moments for me to compute the situation. There sitting in the seat wasn’t anyone I knew. I looked at the drivers’ side; my friend had morphed into a stranger too. Then I realized…YOU’RE OLD WHEN….you open the door to get in the car and everyone is a stranger, and you don’t even have Alzheimer’s disease.

I scurried next door to the correct red car, by now the people I almost joined realized I wasn’t going to rob them. Instead I was just some nut job with mistaken car identity syndrome. I threw up my hands laughing; I thought they’d roll down their window to join me in laughter. Then it dawned on me, I AM STRANGER DANGER! Probably still in shock from my car accosting episode. They’d have no part of me, eventually they too started giggling in their car. My friend and I laughed hysterically to the point of tears….Again; YOU KNOW YOU’RE OLD WHEN…… the highlight of your Saturday night is trying to find the right car seat so you can get home, before you wreak anymore havoc!

I’d sure love to hear that woman’s take on the story….what would yours be? Thanks to my dear friend who I had a marvelous time with. She knows I have embellished my shopping disdain as an attempt at humor!!! Thanks a million for bailing me out once again, and getting me home safe….although I can’t guarantee that I am SOUND. After all I am OUT OF THIS WORLD!

Wednesday, March 19, 2008

Writers Island "Spellbound"

"I'm not Blue"
Done in Acrylic on canvas

All I can tell you is this crazy girl was done during Minny Paws moment! She still needs work. Her eyes are not up to snuff!

This weeks Writers Island albeit a day late was " Spellbound"



In the joy of solitude

Stroke after stroke

Pulsations slow

Heart fixated


In the moment

A merger occurs

As the stroking persists

Over and over

Stroke after stroke

Amalgamated with emotion

Spellbound with ecstasy

Consciousness eludes

Beyond time or light

Fused is the soul

With color

And canvas

Monday, March 17, 2008

Happy St, Patricks Day and Memories

It's twenty two years today since my dad passed. Six weeks after my daughter was born. He died on St. Patrick's day. Born in Scotland, with an Irish Mother, Dad loved to party. What better day for him to go, he couldn't have planned it better himself. The Cancer was becoming unbearable, we'd all been praying he'd go fast. It was a sunny day when I got the expected call, I ran to the record player dropped the needle on John Lennon's Imagine, and weeped the whole way through. It's still my favorite song, and was such a comfort that day! Playing in the background it Neil Youngs version.

Here are a few memories I still have of my dad!

He would sit and listen to me play the piano for hours.
I could tell him absolutely anything.We had many intimate conversations.
Much of my wisdom is born from his advice.
I took classical piano,dad bought me my first modern piano book at ten, I still have it.
He also bought me my first extra thick coloring book when I had my appendix out at eight.
I hit him in the head with a golf club while he was teaching me to golf.
He never even got mad.
He always brought home full size chocolate bars to dole out at Halloween
even though we had a modest income.
He whistled when he put up the Christmas lights. Or when he was cleaning the house.
He cleaned the house every Saturday while mom was working.
He always drove me and picked me up from extra curricular activities,
he waited patiently
Because I was such a mature eight year old he felt it necessary
to inform me about sex early.
He first suggested my mother get me a bra
because she was in denial about my development.
He had better parenting skills than mom, we automatically obeyed him
because he was more reasonable.
He drove me to high school almost everyday,
I proudly hugged and kissed him in front of all my peers.
My dad was a pleasant man, kind to everyone,
but said he would protect me at all costs, I believed him.
He was very athletic and watched many sports.
He curled, golfed, bowled, fished, skated, swam, played shuffle board and darts.
He was never much of a traveler or a gambler, where as mom was.
Dad played the mouth organ by ear.
His favorite songs in this order were Stardust, Donkey Serenade, Christmas Song, and Mona Lisa. We always sang those songs together.
He used to sing every morning when he was young, I was to be named Mona Lisa.
He didn't like the name so he stopped singing the song.
He danced with my on his feet, then taught me how to ball room dance.
He was the best dancer at any party, women adored him, he really enjoyed talking with women, but loved my moms company best!
He adored music and it played in the kitchen every morning.
I never heard him swear, except for a few damns.
He never complained about food and ate whatever mom made,
except he disliked eggs for dinner.
He ate a two soft boiled eggs with toast almost every morning.
He made many different types of wine. Even apple, which was like vinegar.
He loved dogs, and had carrier pigeons when he was a kid.
He used to cliff dive when he was young.
My friends loved my dad too, he was a very fair man.
He took the family camping once a year.
At fifteen he kicked his own dad out of the house for being abusive to his mother.
He love to play bridge, always played cards with me, taught me crib, and bridge.
He never bought my mother anything extravagant,
but would surprise her by laying a new floor, or tiling the bathroom.
He built her a house from a book.
Later he built her a beauty salon in our home.
He built me my own playhouse with a dutch door, it matched the house he built.
Seemed he was always painting the inside of the house.
Dad ran after a kid that bullied us, he was so fast even we were shocked.
He had a garden and a boat, and a beautiful singing voice.
He was agnostic, beleived if you were a good person that's all that mattered.
Well for that era, he was a good husband, a great dad, and that's all that did matter!

Saturday, March 15, 2008

Sunday Scribblings Smorgasbord

We teased my mom about this for years later, even though she is long gone it's a memory that still holds a chuckle. Keep in mind she was a very short woman, with only a few extra pounds. Really cute, very young looking for her age and a bit aggressive. I was always taller and heavier than my mom. Most of the time I felt like a big oaf following behind her. She never ceased to embarrass me in a restaurant, this is just one of those occasions!


Feisty, five foot mom named Sue

You’d dare not do, what she told you to

Off she’d drag us to the smörgåsbord

A day off of cooking, she implored

Down the line we’d trail behind

For twenty bucks, four of us dined

Filled up our plates, all you could eat

Savories, salads, delicious things sweet.

Mom always heaped hers, just a little more

with chicken almost toppling, to the floor

We’d cringe and scowl, often protest

A covert measure we kids would detest

She’s shush us, with a voice cautiously terse

Then proceeded to stash chicken into her purse

Embarrassed we’d shudder at this brazen act

Our mother stole chicken carefully packed

She excused it by saying it was for dad’s lunch

We’d paid for it anyway and it’s wasn’t a bunch

In eighty degree weather the chicken would ride

Nestled amongst lipsticks in her purse it would hide

Shopping, visiting, with no one the wiser

The bacteria laden fowl, now a potential bum geyser

Hours went by with poultry out of refrigeration

Suddenly she remember her chicken with elation

Placed into the fridge until the very next day

“Chicken Sandwiches everyone?”

We both screamed “NO WAY”!

Wednesday, March 12, 2008

1943 Guide to Hiring Women

I received this as an email, but couldn't resist posting it in light of international Womans Day only a few short days ago. I have no doubt some countries still succumb to these archaic sexist attitudes.We've come a long way baby!!!

For easier reading of this article you can go here!

1943 Guide to Hiring Women.jpg


Rough draft done digitally, hoping to do something similar in Acrylics
Prayers for Claire, Ethan, Ben, Deb, Adam

Monday, March 10, 2008

Samera Gibson

Large Canvases by Samera Gibson.
Using tissue paper and acrylics to build colorful rich depth into her art.
Samera was the featured artist at the
White Rock Arts Council Gallery on Thursday with her
" Yellow Water Ranch" series.

I'm afraid these photos don't do Samera's work justice. It's impossible construe the feelings her wonderfully textured compositions evoke in person. I was completely awe struck when I walked into the gallery,
to see my art in the same room as this amazing artist!
More gorgeous color in these smaller pieces.
Because the gallery was jammed with people I couldn't get a photo of the massive main feature canvas approximately four by eight in size. In the right lower bottom corner was a face hidden amongst many splashes of color. My friend didn't spot it until I pointed it out to her!If you get a chance be sure to visit her works at the Windsor Square gallery in White Rock B.C.

Writers Island "Rising" "Devil Plays Hardball"

Sunday night I watched CBC presentation called “Devil Plays Hardball”, a mentoring program on the homeless in Vancouver. A must see documentary of middle class mentors surprised at the bureaucracy surrounding help for the homeless. Mainly drug addicted, mentally ill and abused. Most affected by the program were the mentors themselves, who relentlessly struggled to find conventional resolve for these desperate neglected souls. Mainstream society often assumes there’s a quick fix for the homeless, when in fact it can take years for these forlorn souls to get to such an insidious point.

Every single day heroin addicted Michael desired a resolution to his menacing habit, but wrestled with the fear of withdrawal. The very endearing abused first nation’s fellow, had a mouth full of rotten teeth , still he refused welfare. He disappeared three months to the chagrin of his mentor. Picked up on the streets of Seattle on an out standing warrant Danse was thrown in jail. Soon he returned to the rainy streets of Vancouver. An update on Danse says that he was run over by a double dump truck and suffered two broken feet, he was released to the streets after one day.

Although undiagnosed I’m pretty sure the peculiar homeless woman Erika was a paranoid schizophrenic, eventually she disappeared completely. There was also a young couple who glommed to each other for comfort and support. What a sad show. Seems like the authorities just aren't' approaching the plight of the homeless properly. Many are unable to function in society without constant supervision, possibly medication, rehabilitation, and hospitalization. I can only imagine what's going to happen during our 2010 Olympics.

To read the update on the participants in the award winning documentary go here.
I could feel my social conscience rising as I was enlightened by the ongoing plight of these heartbreaking homeless victims.

Sunday, March 09, 2008

Sunday Scribblings "Experiment"

Sorry I have tried for the last twenty four hours to post some artist pictures to no avail. I will keep trying! This sunset in Vegas will have to suffice.

This weeks Sunday Scribbling Prompt is " Experiment"

Yesterday when I called Pepper, she was riding the bus to Liquidation World, I could hear the frantic tone in her voice, afraid she’d not arrive before six o’clock closing. She'd just hung up from calling the store. She told me the owner had answered so she plead her case, explaining how she’d just finished work, was attending a dinner and needed to run in to buy a slab cake for her family. Just then I felt this inexplicable feeling rush through my body. The owner kindly responded by telling her if the registers weren’t counted when she got there they’d let her in to buy the cake. When I hung up the phone from hearing that story, a tear trickled down my face. My daughter, an only child for twenty two years, with only me as her security now has a family. I felt elated hearing her say those two words “My Family” it evoked tremendous joy knowing she is now a part of a huge loving entity. This was no longer an experiment of two people living in the same house. It’s officially her family, with a mother, father and many siblings, I couldn't be happier and a bit relieved too!

She arrived at Liquidation World at six-o-five. The owner saw her familiar face and opened the door. She excitedly bought the cake he’d recommended many months previous. She carried two huge buckets of Easter candy the size of ice-cream containers for the two youngest boys, a deluxe bottle of Scotch for her new father-laws birthday and the extra large decadent macaroon Caramel chocolate slab cake for the rest of the family. She stood proudly loaded down with goodies waiting on the podium of the sky train station until Bryan met her after work.

When they arrived at the dinner she handed her father-in- law his gift, he held out his arms and hugged her. He never hugs his children, but one day Pepper took the initiative to just hug him first. An experiment that seems to have paid off!

Saturday, March 08, 2008

International Womans Day 2008

Today I celebrate my good fortune of living in a country that endorses peace and equality for woman. Where I can live and create in a place of peace! I pray for those women less fortunate living in barbaric conditions facing oppression, forced to endure atrocities!

Canada's theme for 2008 is " Strong Woman, Strong World"

Empowered Woman secure a brighter future for everyone

This is a purse I made to commemorate International Woman's Day
I debuted it at Purse-onality, it was met with a few really nice compliments. Pepper scored me a huge canvas bag from a lingerie store, only because she went to great lengths admiring it. The incentive to purchase canvas bag was relinquished free when Pepper offered to buy it! Full of joy she presented it to me knowing it would be perfect to paint on. I painted over the company name with acrylics then coated it with flexible varnish. I put my regular purse inside of it, then when I need an extra bag I quickly remove my purse! It held a large amount of groceries.

This poem was written two years ago for INWD

I thought I'd repost it to go with my purse!

Mother, daughter, Sister, Lover

I am a woman, and I cry when no one can hear
I have huge dreams, I never share
I have fantasies, I dare not reveal
I have unrequited love, that is never recognized

I am the white noise in the home
Persistently preparing, repairing and doing at all times
I love deeply, with vision, constant hope, pride and joy
I have a relentless faith, in life, in god, in family, in future

I carry the burdens and secrets of others
Hold guilt to my heart, where empathy,
Forgiveness and optimism obstinately reside
Often suppressing passion, and creativity

I do my duties without fail, or resentment
I stand alone in my failures and regrets
I give, even when there is but a pittance
I get less, expect less, and take less, feeling like I am less

I am taken for granted, heard with rare acceptance
I am courageous, beyond my expectations
I am the unpaid teacher, waitress, homemaker, and psychologist
I am the solver of problems, and scarcely put first

I have thoughts, I feel ashamed to share
I have wants, I will never reveal
I have needs that no one will heed
I have a lonely soul, which I can not seem to feed

I am a woman, and I cry alone, about what isn’t
What will never be, what is lost, forgotten, not forgiven
Not recognized, or realized, or capitalized, I cry about
Poverty, and love forlorn, for loved ones, and love forgotten

I am a woman, resilient in majestic proportions,
I am a woman, of maternal magnificence
I am a woman, with imperial abilities
I am a unique woman, the queen of my family
And heart of my home!
The other side of my purse also altered has this poem modge podged over the heart, then again coated with varnish!

Friday, March 07, 2008

"Purse-onality" Gallery Opening

Community Engaged Art Exhibition

What a phenomenal turnout for the opening of Purse-onality! Facilitated by Deborah Putnam along with Violette Clarke, two inspiring Artists dedicated to evoking creativity in others! The small gallery store was packed for opening night. What started out as a three day exhibit is now running a month long. My purse had it's own little pedestal. I was pretty thrilled about that! A beautiful feature book of all the altered purses, with a blurb from each artist was on display.My poem " Face it" was published on the last page along with the purse. The color on the photo of " Jayna's Wings" was slightly distorted looking more magenta than purple, but the book would still make a really lovely coffee table conversation piece.

Check out the purses posted I'll be posting more about this art show on Sunday. Stay tuned for the amazing art work from the main featured artist Samera .
I feel pretty blessed to have my work on display in the same gallery as hers.
"The Journey" By Violette collaged and painted on a train Case.
Documents the story of Violette's family's journey from Morocco to Canada in 1957.

Back of the Violette's train case!
Violette has been an incredible inspiration to me since I first met her. The moment I stepped into her " Magic Cottage" I felt as though I had walked into my Soul. Finally my great love for color was affirmed and it was the beginning of an Art Journey that brought me to this event, "My first Art exhibition."
"Jayna's Wings" Purple heart representing the brave parents that
endure the death of a child, done in acrylic, then varnished.
Jayna's wings representing the death of a ten month old and all children who have unjustly passed before their time!
" Seeds of Hope" by Sheila
" If I do the work I need to do it with the wreckage of
my past, then I will have freedom to love again"

Left " Kids are Worth it" Vala
Middle " Face It" by me Happytiler along with this poem.
" Doily and Tea" by Maylis " Discoverer" Sam Right corner " Elegant" Colleen Part of
" Inner Child" Suitcase in the bottom corner by Mandy
Mandy also did "Roller Derby Saved My Soul"
A woman who has worked through life challenges,
become stronger and more confident with the
friendship and support of her Roller Derby team!
Left "Glitter Magic" by Freya " Medusa on the Town" by Joanna OJO
Middle" Wanderlust" byAnn- Marie

Right side " Ceremonial Clutch"
by Joanna OJO " Duchess" by Sam

" Burgundy Bliss" Nora " Water" by Penny "Fabulous polka dot Peace Purse" by Freya " A Walk on the Beach" Doreen

"Dance Forever" by Elizabeth how Belly dancing changed her life forever
" A Song Not Yet Written" by Judy she can't imagine a world without music her song has yet to been written
" Beauty Incorporated" by Judy who works in the beauty industry

" My Garden Walk" Creativity creates Creativity says Maylis as she searched for inspiration to create her purse. "Three Purses in One" by Sharon just like the layers of your life, past, present and future. "My life behind the curtain with Aunt Nikki" by Doreen a replica of her life with an aunt who had Alzheimer's disease for over a decade.

I didn't get photos of all the purses as the night wore on it seemed impossible to take pictures amongst the large crowd. If your purse is not represented on my blog and you wish to be, please have Deborah forward me a photo and I will post it!
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