Celebrate Salmagundi!

salmagundi |ˌsalməˈgəndē|

noun ( pl. -dis )

• a general mixture; a miscellaneous collection.

ORIGIN from French salmigondis, of unknown origin.

oh NO! What have I done????

So distressed....

I cleaned my desktop. My virtual (computer) desktop since it needed it and now.... I can't find ANY of my artwork! I have a very clever filing system and the stuff is just NOT THERE! I must have had a morning of Alzheimer's when I was doing that.

So... do you think I should even consider cleaning the real top of my desk?

Probably not.

In the meantime.... here is hope. I found a 12x12 base page that I've been using this month for several of my collages. I just love it and am so anxious to carve it in linoleum and make some real prints of it.... or maybe not. I might loose that, too. Maybe it's emotionally easier to loose digital imagery than real. I dunno.

Ponder.

Ivy Mae and Margo

digital illustration of two sweet little girls.

Sunflower Sensation layout!

Busy birds... and bees.

The Summer Dragons...

Fascinating.

Somewhat charming.

Always busy.

According to Wikipedia:

Dragonflies in cultures

In Europe, dragonflies have often been seen as sinister. Some English vernacular names, such as "devil's darning needle" and "ear cutter", link them with evil or injury.^[5] A Romanian folk tale says that the dragonfly was once a horse possessed by the devil. Swedish folklore holds that the devil uses dragonflies to weigh people's souls.^[6]:25–27 The Norwegian name for dragonflies is "Øyenstikker", which literally means Eye Poker and in Portugal they are sometimes called "Tira-olhos" (Eye snatcher). They are often associated with snakes, as in the Welsh name gwas-y-neidr, "adder's servant".^[5] The Southern United States term "snake doctor" refers to a folk belief that dragonflies follow snakes around and stitch them back together if they are injured.^[7]

Dragonfly symbol on a Hopi bowl fromSikyatki archaeological site.

For some Native American tribes they represent swiftness and activity, and for the Navajo they symbolize pure water. Dragonflies are a common motif in Zuni pottery; stylized as a double-barred cross, they appear in Hopi rock art and on Pueblo necklaces.^[6]:20–26

They also have traditional uses as medicine in Japan and China. In some parts of the world they are a food source, eaten either as adults or larvae; in Indonesia, for example, they are caught on poles made sticky with birdlime, then fried in oil as a delicacy.^[5]

In the United States dragonflies and damselflies are sought out as a hobby similar to birding and butterflying, known as oding, from the dragonfly's Latin species name, odonata. Oding is especially popular in Texas, where 225 different species of odonates have been observed. With care, and with dry fingers, dragonflies can be handled and released by oders, as can be done with butterflies, though it is not encouraged.^[8]

Good Day... Better Design!

In prepping for the debut of my expedition into teaching art- I discover (once again like all the great masters) that an artist will never completely finish a design or lay-out.

There's ALWAYS something that can be

• tweaked,
• enhanced
• or omitted

to the Nth degree.

While the differences are subtle- they ARE what makes for

GOOD DESIGN!

In any piece of art (be it digital or traditional mediums) judicious use of

• space,
• color,
• imagery
• and text

can make all the difference and ultimately make or break the composition.

Thus... here's one of the early versions of the flyer and I plan on using this as a visual illustration for class participants.

Notice the word "Today". While I've mimicked the font-typeface of the word "Learn" it's not sending a commanding tone to the word and giving it the emphasis it needs to be a directive. I still have a slight misgiving about the choice of capitalizing only the first letter of the word and using lower case for the rest but since the word "Photoshop" needs to be all caps as a nod to the actual packaging of the software- it gets sort of lost when I do that. So- I increased the orange tones on the brushwork color underneath the word to make it stand out a little more.

In both versions I kept my name and the name of my Design Studio in the same font but altered the lines that they appear on and the spacing of the layer shadow to "unmuddy" the appearance and changed the inner glow to a favorite reddish-magenta color on my name only. The word "Instructor" is changed from the Chopin typeface to the more formal Georgia font because use of the more scroll"y" font is saved for just the more idealistic portion of the message. In other words the terms "Learn" and my name(s) are therefore showy but not the main emphasis.

Too the layer shadow-work on the text containing the WWHW info is spread wider and the inner glow of the letter work is increased to make it pop from the green paint spills underneath (in the lower right hand corner).

All this critique and dissecting of design is part and parcel of what I'll be touching on in the 6 week workshop. Spaces are limited- sign up now by calling Stephanie Smith at the SmithZonian Art Center, 612 Maine Street; 870.403.6936. Classes are on Wednesdays 11A-12:30P, March 30th-May4th, 2011.

Embracing Poliosis

Poliosis.

Sounds like a bad disease; but I'm referring to a benign part of maturation.

po·li·o·sis (pl-ss)

n.

An absence or lessening of melanin in hair of the scalp, brows, or lashes.

Looking straight into the mirror and being brutally honest- I see an almost 49 year-old woman with gray roots. I've colored that hair because of vanity and because my Grandmother, Mae, was very opinionated on that topic when it came to my hair. She did not want me to go gray since she had grayed so early (probably due to an illness). I agreed at first and was horrified to imagine my grade-school child with an old Mom. But, as the years roll by, he has grown to adulthood and I approach the big 5-0 I'm more than willing to stop the gray charade.

Going Gray

I did some research and found that lots of baby boomers are coming to the same conclusion.

I discovered blogs devoted to hair styles and this article about the dilemma women ponder when trying to figure out just HOW to go about going gray after having colored it for so long. Obviously- I'm going to have to go to a colorist to achieve the most gradual transition. I've asked two hair-stylists their opinions on the best method of how to go about this process and they both had to ponder it. I'm not sure if the are slow to opine on account of they've not yet faced this question with any of their clients or simply because they are carefully considering the "root" of my problem. Pun intended.

Surprisingly- there are even books published about this topic which makes it obvious to me: write and you CAN get it published (but, that's another topic). Did you know? There are about 7,160,000 results on google alone for "going gray". That figure alone should tell me it's an upward trend and encourage all women to welcome the natural turn of events and quit grasping at the unrealistic idealism of non-aging.

Besides... technically- I could be a Grandmother at this point in my life. I want to look like one- rather than one of the youngest of the baby-boomers that grew up in the 70's, achieved adult-hood in the 80's and survived the 20-year class reunion in the '00's.

Looking forward to wearing my gray badge of courage... my badge of honor for having lived a little.

Old Images... New Art

First... the digital collage.

This photograph of us is from 1984.

The horse image is a newer digital composition and the quote is a very haunting one.

We were young, we were merry, we were very, very wise, And the door stood open at our feast, When there passed us a woman with the West in her eyes, And a man with his back to the East.

Mary Elizabeth Coleridge

And.. now for the rest... for Lesson #3 • Mixed Media Melange

Neutral Palette challenge: using found ephemera, digital elements printed out separately and adhered to canvas, stamped & painted using Golden's fluid acrylics, distressed with charcoal & Ranger alcohol inks, painted some more and stitched.

Rome Ants & Roman Ticks

February. Cold. Snow still on the ground.

winter blahs... waiting for Spring blooms.

And, most people are thinking....

Romance! Roses! and sweet treats!

as in Valentines!

Me? I'm thinking... FRENCH! Eiffel Tower images and song!

Voila!

Des yeux qui font baiser les miens,
Un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche,
Voila le portrait sans retouche
De l'homme auquel j'appartiens
Quand il me prend dans ses bras
Il me parle tout bas,
Je vois la vie en rose.
Il me dit des mots d'amour,
Des mots de tous les jours,
Et ca me fait quelque chose.

Il est entre dans mon coeur
Une part de bonheur
Dont je connais la cause.
C'est lui pour moi. Moi pour lui
Dans la vie,
Il me l'a dit, l'a jure pour la vie.
Et des que je l'apercois
Alors je sens en moi
Mon coeur qui bat
Des nuits d'amour a ne plus en finir
Un grand bonheur qui prend sa place
Des enuis des chagrins, des phases
Heureux, heureux a en mourir.
Quand il me prend dans ses bras
Il me parle tout bas,
Je vois la vie en rose.
Il me dit des mots d'amour,
Des mots de tous les jours,
Et ca me fait quelque chose.
Il est entre dans mon coeur
Une part de bonheur
Dont je connais la cause.
C'est toi pour moi. Moi pour toi
Dans la vie,
Il me l'a dit, l'a jure pour la vie.
Et des que je l'apercois
Alors je sens en moi
Mon coeur qui bat

{Insert Warm Fuzzy Gift Here}

I'm also thinking... a little art would be nice!

My gift to you today (not necessarily romantic)...

images!! perfectly sized for ATC cards!

Snowflake inspiration

Yes... it's winter precipitating again here in the foothills of the snOzark mountains. We're not accustomed to seeing quite this much snowfall but it does the creative juices good!

I revived an old illustrator piece I'd done for Mae a year or so ago... and it just makes me so happy to look at! Especially since Katrina-cat, our long-lost Siamese, has come home after nearly ten months. She's been sitting here happily in my lap as I work and we are cozy while watching another six inches pile up on the banks of Lake Barto.

The only thing could make this more purrfect? If our boys were home and we were drinking hot chocolate...

Caring for the Little Things

Been taking a lot of photos of our birds as of late. I have a far better view of them here at the farm than I did in town and there are more of them.

Though we have more cats than we ever did- I find fewer incidents of terroristic attacks here, too.

Every time I glance at the feeders and the crape myrtle full of cardinals I think of the scripture in Luke (chapter 12) where Jesus is telling His followers not to worry. In that God the Father has already made provision for even the smallest details of the lives of birds- it only follows that He has my petty concerns already covered.

²² Then Jesus said to his disciples: “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat; or about your body, what you will wear. ²³ For life is more than food, and the body more than clothes. ²⁴ Consider the ravens: They do not sow or reap, they have no storeroom or barn; yet God feeds them. And how much more valuable you are than birds! ²⁵ Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to your life? ²⁶ Since you cannot do this very little thing, why do you worry about the rest?

Reflect. The Few, The Proud, The Marines.

Digital Collage

Rosecrans National Cemetery

San Diego CA

January 7, 2011

So many emotions.

So many hopes.

So many dreams.

Godspeed Men.

New Marines Jess & Peter

Graduation Day

The New Neighbors on Lake Barto

We have new neighbors!

Two pairs of ducks have been here for almost a week. They dive and seem to play "duck-duck-goose" and frolic all over the pond! We weren't sure what they were and when Byron spied them on Saturday morning- he called me to the window to see and we peered at them through the binoculars. I told him if I had really good lens on my camera I could capture an image and we could better figure it out!

Don't you just KNOW that man went right out and bought me a lens? No! Seriously! He did! Well, he rode with me to Little Rock and approved the whole purchase! What's that commercial? Ahhh... he went to Jared. Wrong. He went to Bedfords Camera which is about as close to heaven and Bedford Falls in "It's a Wonderful Life"... but, I digress.

Anyway.... the next day I didn't see them until the light was too poor to get a good shot. The next day I was busy and forgot to watch. Then... today... I got an opportunity. It was still too cold to try and take the camera and lens outside without it frosting over- but enough of a shot to clearly identify the birds!!

They are Hooded Mergansers. I think from this site they must be the Saw-billed variety. (2nd image)

One opinion was that they might be Dive Dappers- but according to first page Google search the dive-dappers are Pied-billed Grebes (image 3) and the male isn't nearly as flamboyant a bird.

What do YOU think?

The Wildest Christmas Stocking Story Ever (or why we don't invite Louise to parties any more)

This essay was submitted to the Louisville Sentinel contest in 1999 to find out who had the wildest Christmas dinner. It won first prize. *(See disclaimer at end of article)* I rerun this in my blog because it's requested by someone every year about this time.... so I give to you.... Louise.


As a joke, my brother used to hang a pair of panty hose over his fireplace before Christmas. He said all he wanted was for Santa to fill them. What they say about Santa checking the list twice must be true because every Christmas morning, although Jay's kids' stockings were overflowed, his poor pantyhose hung sadly empty.

One year I decided to make his dream come true. I put on sunglasses and went in search of an inflatable love doll. They don't sell those things at Wal-Mart. I had to go to an adult bookstore downtown. If you've never been in an X-rated store, don't go. You'll only confuse yourself. I was there an hour saying things like, "What does this do?" "You're kidding me!" "Who would buy that?" Finally, I made it to the inflatable doll section. I wanted to buy a standard, uncomplicated doll that could also substitute as a passenger in my truck so I could use the car pool lane during rush hour. Finding what I wanted was difficult. Love dolls come in many different models. The top of the line, according to the side of the box, could do things I'd only seen in a book on animal husbandry. I settled for 'Lovable Louise." She was at the bottom of the price scale. To call Louise a "doll" took a huge leap of imagination.

On Christmas Eve, with the help of an old bicycle pump, Louise came to life. My sister-in-law was in on the plan and let me in during the wee morning hours, long after Santa had come and gone, I filled the dangling pantyhose with Louise's pliant legs and bottom. I also ate some cookies and drank what remained of a glass of milk on a nearby tray. I went home, and giggled for a couple of hours. The next morning my brother called to say that Santa had been to his house and left a present that had made him VERY happy but had left the dog confused. She would bark, start to walk away, then come back and bark some more.

We all agreed that Louise should remain in her panty hose so the rest of the family could admire her when they came over for the traditional Christmas dinner. My grandmother noticed Louise the moment she walked in the door. "What the hell is that?" she asked. My brother quickly explained, "It's a doll." "Who would play with something like that?" Granny snapped. I had several candidates in mind, but kept my mouth shut. "Where are her clothes?" Granny continued. "Boy, that turkey sure smells nice, Gran," Jay said, trying to steer her into the dining room. But Granny was relentless. "Why doesn't she have any teeth?" Again, I could have answered, but why would I? It was Christmas and no one wanted to ride in the back of the ambulance saying,"Hang on Granny! Hang on!" My grandfather, a delightful old man with poor eyesight, sidled up to me and said, " Hey, who's the naked gal by the fireplace?" I told him she was Jay's friend.

A few minutes later I noticed Grandpa by the mantel, talking to Louise. Not just talking, but actually flirting. It was then that we realized this might be Grandpa's last Christmas at home.

The dinner went well. We made the usual small talk about who had died, who was dying, and who should be killed, when suddenly Louise made a noise that sounded a lot like my father in the bathroom in the morning. Then she lurched from the panty hose, flew around the room twice, and fell in a heap in front of the sofa. The cat screamed. I passed cranberry sauce through my nose, and Grandpa ran across the room, fell to his knees, and began administering mouth to mouth resuscitation. My brother fell back over his chair and wet his pants and Granny threw down her napkin, stomped out of the room, and sat in the car.

It was indeed a Christmas to treasure and remember.

Later in my brother's garage, we conducted a thorough examination and found the cause of Louise's collapse. We discovered that Louise had suffered from a hot amber to the back of her right thigh. Fortunately, thanks to a wonder drug called duct tape, we restored her to perfect health. Louise went on to star in several bachelor party movies. I think Grandpa still calls her whenever he can get out of the house.

*DISCLAIMER* The piece was actually written by humorist Jeff Foxworthy and appears in one of his books from 1996. As for whether it's a true story or not, Foxworthy says on the opening page of his web site of his material: "There's my life story (only 50% of it lies)."

Despite Conventional Stereotypes: Middle-aged Overweight Cheerleaders Are Good for Morale!

Besides immersing ourselves in Scripture- the second best activity and role as a Christian is: Cheerleading.

Not the typical (or cliche) definition of a cheerleader.

Now, the idea of me being a cheerleader is rather outlandish! I'm a former band-geek! I'm an artist! Not to mention age & weight realities. But, the longer I serve- it's the most accurate description of my job.

As a little girl- I was the eldest sister. Elder siblings have the unique responsibility of encouraging younger siblings to talk and walk and "get with the program" of being a member of the family unit. Because the second child in our family was just three years behind me- she didn't necessarily want to follow my lead or heed my warnings (like the time she tried to burn the house down!) and it was clear my leadership skills needed honing. By the time #3 arrived (#2 referred to her as "that new kid") I was eight-years old and better equipped to fulfill that leadership role; and, as she was most biddable, I found it easier to encourage her into performing her task of little sister. When #4 kid arrived- I was eleven and it was just easier to put him on my hip and hoist him around into whatever activity we were trying to accomplish- be it bedevil our poor Mama or follow the herd or concoct mischief and blame it on #2 *sly wink*. Yes! Senior membership can be taken advantage of at even young ages!!

My point is- I grew up in a leadership position comprised of many facets: cook (I was really good at "burning my dookies"!); bottle-washer; ruffle-smoother; picker-upper (of both kids and toys); band-aid applier; teacher; chief-gopher; and children's concierge.

Because that's all the experience I had to rely upon- that's the way I filled my role as a wife and a mother. Now I find myself not only a caregiver to my 101-year old Grandmother but as a Mom to a Marine Recruit.

Writing encouraging letters to my own "Kid" in hopes of keeping his spirits up is a job I love! Finding the time to sit still long enough and compose coherent thoughts is a bit of a trial since I "think a lot" and can barely get it all from the cerebellum through the fingers and into the keyboard before it's lost. Because I like to journal- I'm gonna try to blog these thoughts and just send them to him rather than trying to figure out what I wrote to him the last time and quit repeating myself of smallish news from home.

Trying to keep the spirits of an ailing Grandmother up as she is continually isolated because of loss of mobility and hearing is a challenge. Thankfully-- Skype was invented and the role of cheerleading is shared with #3 and her toddler daughter. When the nursing staff walked in this morning and realized that this very hip G-Grandmother was watching her great-granddaughter play and "read" hundreds of miles away; they appreciated the value of cheerleaders both near and far.

I now define the term "cheerleader" in a more robust connotation. Building morale and encouraging one another to full potential (be it better health or achieving mental & physical disciplines) is the goal.

Ready? Ok! Give me--

• an "E" for encouraging,
• an "S" for spirit,
• a "P" for prayer,
• an "R" for rally,
• an "I" for inspire,
• and a "T" for try, try, try again!

The Cats Speak!

Yes... they really do. Speak I mean. Only some of us can understand their speech... so I can't be positive that this is exactly the correct translation- but, it's near enough that Jess will understand their sentiment. Miss'n my kid. I know he's missing all of us here at Saginaw.

Yoddle-lay-hee-here kitty, kitty!

All has been quiet since the heifers got over the loss of their babies being separated and moved to the smaller pastures. The young heifers don’t need to be near Mr Leonardo until Miz Robin says so.. anyways... the large herd is now over here on us and because there are so many of them I don’t try to hand-feed all of them over the fence. I don’t even mess with the donkeys, Maude & Mary, cuz it just doesn’t seem fair.

So- they don’t typically “call to me” to get my attention nor do I take much notice of their presence.

But- today! All of a sudden the biggest part of the 60+herd had just walked across the dike and were beginning to fan out around the corner of the fence when all of a sudden they began to bugle! All of them in a great chorus and as if a conductor had dropped the stick and given them their cue!! I ran out on the deck to see what could be the matter - when I noticed Hylfi-cat gambooling in front of them!! Yup!! They were talking to Hylfi!! They weren’t afraid of her nor were they disturbed by her- it was as if they were “cheering her” along as she chased shadow phantoms! Too funny!

This photo was actually from a few days before with the smaller herd! If these girls weren't in the herd of this morning's story..... what is it about this corner and this cat that causes them to pause in their daily routine and give attention? I dunno... but, it's something!!

Stump your friends... amaze your family!

{introduces} for my brainiac friends:

Random Question for the Day or (RQftD)

:a scavenger hunt game to be played by referencing your innate knowledge and/or Google.

This exercise is just for fun... see if you can figure out a specific location I'm referencing by the clues given Monday-Friday labeled RQotD.

This brainchild to "Stump your friends and amaze your family with delightful lore." came to me as I was waking up this morning. Now we all know the real reason the husband has decided to wake up out of town most mornings! I'd always heard that males enjoyed women of mystery... apparently I offer wayyyyy to much. Shhhh... don't tell him I figured him out and that he took that job just so he didn't have to listen to me rattle every morning!

Anyway... look forward to seeing more RQotD and try to figure out where I'm leading you!

Todays: RQotD : Explain the significance of turbidites in Southwest Arkansas (SWArk) and specifically in Clark County.

Expect answers and revealing tidbits of information on my facebook status throughout the week.

Unstylish Decision Turns Into Medical Emergency

or... happy 35th Anniversary to My Kidney!

Recently I polled my FB friends to see if any of them had ever made a fashion faux pas, or had a wardrobe malfunction. Several responded and of the incidents that people are most likely to admit are the ones of mismatched color in their earrings or shoes. And, while there are a few instances of hiked up skirt tails- none of these acquaintances have experienced a wardrobe malfunction on the order of Janet Jackson’s debacle (with the exceptions of missing bikini bottoms!-JA!).

I must confess to having experienced both of these; and while mine wasn’t as shocking or as public as a Super Bowl performance, it has had lifelong consequence.

A really serious error in style judgment

The definition for faux pas literally translates from the original French to “false step”. I can claim this title in both the French and the urban English inferences.

Recollect the 70’s. Styles were largely defined by the hippie culture and celebrity haute couture. Think white vinyl go-go boots, hip huggers, short-shorts to name a few. Many will remember bell bottoms jeans- my first poor choice began with a pair of white elephant-bell pants made of brushed corduroy. I had paired them with a white leather belt with rainbow colored beads that had foot-long fringe in place of a buckle. I was convinced that I would look so cute in this outfit that I would receive a candy-gram from a secret admirer on the following day. I was looking sleek! Oh, the decisions a female will rue!

For the era, there really wasn’t anything unstylish about the outfit. Heck! Elvis wears this style and he was the King! I'd seen Elvis that previous year!! Do you know what the real problem was? Elephant bells are difficult to walk in. They will literally wrap around your ankles. Combine that with the fine weave of corduroy that is more akin to velvet and not only is one liable to trip over the excess of fabric- but, the nature of the fabric to grab hold of itself like a magnet.

Fashion faux pas turns into wardrobe malfunction....

Picture if you will: a not-so-svelte, awkward, pre-teenaged girl, prone to clumsy balance and you have a recipe for a major misstep. In band period, I was given the duty of handing out the music to a new piece of music we were practicing for a sight-reading contest all the while trying my best to weave my way through the assembled musicians, music stands all the while not bumping their instruments or tripping over their assorted personal items. While returning to my seat as I neared the band director, Eddie Goodwin, standing upon his podium- those blasted bell-bottoms started swinging back and forth and my legs got tangled up and down I went. I’m pretty good at catching myself, but in this instance- I caught the edge of the raised dais with my torso.

Most people fall down and get right back up. I’ve never been “most people” and I couldn’t get up. It was bad enough that the it happened in front of the whole Jr High band and they had laughed. But, I had fallen on my left front and my body went immediately into shock. Not the mortification kind that comes from a.) the shame that accompanies such an event or b.) that nightmare of being in front of a large audience with nothing but your undies... but, the medical kind. Something traumatic had happened and my only real memories are of Mr Goodwin calling the school nurse and then my Mom (understand my Dad was the Sr High band-director and was away at TMEA) and by the time they realized I would need an ambulance- Mom decided to get me into her car and over the to the hospital since it would be quicker.

To make a long story and hospital stay really short- I had hit with such force that my kidney was throwing so many blood clots so hard and so fast that they didn’t even think it was safe for me be medevaced to a Houston hospital. That was the last day I had two functioning kidneys. Thirty two years later- I received an explanation as to why.

February 13 marks my 35th anniversary with my one and only good kidney keeping me all pumped and filtrated. Take good care of yours!

To be continued....