Rise and Shine

Lesson learned today:  there is a good reason why I am not a morning person.

Second lesson learned today:  it's cold at seven a.m.

Whenever I set the alarm clock, I sleep like crap and wake up at least ten minutes before the alarm is due to ring.  So this morning I was awake at 5:50 a.m.  Meh.  I crawled out of bed at a little before 6:30, and poodle looked at me like I was smoking crack.  We were out the door by 7:00.  WAY too early, and WAY too cold outside.  I went to my part-time, part-time job for almost two hours before my 9:00 board meeting, so my day was pretty much over hours ago.  My eyeballs have been practically glued to my eyelids, and I've been dragging ass since the middle of the afternoon.  Mornings are for the birds.

You know, the early birds.

So here is the second cherry I painted for the Everything Cherry show at the Museum, which opens tomorrow.

I did, in fact, name the first piece "Bada Bing."  Since the two are being sold as a pair, I was told there is only one obvious name for this one.  Go ahead -- guess.   I'll give you a minute to think about it.

I'm on my third day of no soda.  I had developed an unhealthy relationship with Coke Zero, and finally decided it was time to walk away.  Actually, I was trying to do a week of zero sugar, but I lost that challenge after a day and a half.  But the no soda will stick.

"Bada Boom."

Unexpected

It has occurred to me that many of my blog posts could be called "Accidents Happen."  This little number did not turn out at all like I was expecting it to.  In my head it was going to be a bunch of light, airy colors, which is obviously why I used a wicked dark green, eh?  Huh.  I wanted a fairy tale feeling, and I guess I sort of got it, in an "Into the Woods" kind of way.  If it passes inspection, and if we have something decent with which to frame it, I am donating it to a fundraiser on Thursday.  A fundraiser for the new clock tower.

UPDATE:  I wrote the above a couple days ago.  We framed the painting (8" x 24") in a hammered copper and sent it away for the fundraiser.  I forgot to take its picture wearing its clothes.  If nobody buys it, I will happily take it back.

The end.

Everything Cherry

So here is what happened on Monday.  I slept late, as is my Monday ritual, then went to Kalispell to meet with the accountant to get our tax returns.  By the time I got home it was raining a bit, and I had a hard time convincing myself to run in the rain, instead of sitting on the couch reading.  The internal debate raged even as I was changing my clothes and lacing up my shoes.  Three miles later, Roxie and I were pretty proud of ourselves.  I refueled with chocolate (damn you, 70% off Easter candy).

Evening comes and, still riding my runner's high (although I'm pretty sure it was a chocolate high) I decided to get lots of things accomplished.  First I washed some dishes and in the process broke a lovely blue pottery bowl.  Damn.  Then I cooked some hot Italian sausage so I would have something for lunch this week.  I had two packages of sausage, and as I was unwrapping the second one I noticed an awful lot of blood on the bottom of the first package.  "Ew," I thought to myself.  "That's a gross, bloody package of meat and why didn't I notice in the store?"  Well.  Turns out the gross bloody meat was actually my FINGER, which I had cut on the blue pottery bowl when it broke.  Man, what a bleeder.

Moving on.  The dishes were washed and the food cooked, so I stepped out of my kitchen and into my studio (HA!) to finish my WHEN I RUN painting.  And of course I accidentally knocked over a small bottle of silver paint.  Pooh.  Stupid moment.  In my infinite wisdom, I decided the best recovery method would be to scoop the paint back into the bottle, but wouldn't you know -- when you tip the bottle AGAIN, even more paint falls out.  Duh.  Stupider moment.  Got that cleaned up with the aid of a palette knife, but still wasted a bunch of nice silver paint - I was covered.  Not ten minutes later, when I had moved on to another piece, I ran into the issue of an almost empty tube of paint.  Now, tubes hold thicker paint than bottles -- heavy body vs. fluid, for instance. But this does not mean it is a good idea to vigorously shake the tube, while open, to get the last bits of paint out.  Nope.  Not at all a good idea.  In fact, I would call it a stupiderest idea.  Lucky for me I noticed the giant blob of paint that landed on my nice clean jammies.  Red paint.  Would have been funny if I hadn't noticed, went to bed with wet red paint on my leg, and awoke to find myself apparently bleeding out.

Never a dull moment.

Here is the first piece I am doing for the Everything Cherry show the Museum is holding next month.  The show is part juried art show and part historical exhibit.

The cherry is very ... round.  I want to call this "Bada Bing" but it's not dark enough.

P.S.  I have a post-it note on the wall above my desk with this quote from Oscar Wilde:

To live is the rarest thing in the world.

Most people exist, that is all.

I might have to do another running painting that says WHEN I RUN, I LIVE.

When I Run

Let me start by saying I just checked my stats and I have had a total of 3,461 page views on this blog since its inception.  I'm quite sure 3,400 of them have been me, and the other 61 are my mom.  Well actually, that's not quite true, because 5 have been from Latvia and 103 have been from Malaysia.  Huh.

About a week ago a friend told me I need to paint something that would inspire him to run.  I thought about it a lot, because I too need some inspiration.  And it was really hard to put into words how I feel when I run.  I had a distinct feeling in my head (you know, your basic super fabulous awesomeness) but the first phrase that worked for me didn't seem to portray the entirety of that super fabulous awesomeness.  So I starting writing the back story.  Which then became a poem.  Which I realized this morning I could whittle down to a haiku.  But ultimately I decided the painting stands on its own, distilled down to the very essence of what running means to me.  And if you don't get it, it doesn't matter.  You don't have to.  I do.

The good, the bad and the purple

Roxie and I had a lovely Easter.  We got up at a reasonable hour so she could pee and have breakfast, then we went back to bed forever.  Awesome.  When we got up the second time, I had a handful of potato chips for Easter brunch, then we went for a three mile run.  It is pretty cold in my little house (which is fab-u-lous in the summer, but not so much the rest of the year) so I put on tights, a t-shirt, fleece pullover and my fleece hat.  Bagged the mitties at the last minute.  We got about a quarter of a mile into the run before I realized I was WAY over dressed.  I spent the rest of the day in short-sleeves and flip flops.

Monday was just as awesome, except I had to go shopping for funeral attire.  Poo.  Roxie stayed behind so she could play ball with Uncle Derek.  Later we went for a two mile walk.  That was good.  But I had intended to go for a three mile run.  That was bad.  We played ball again, and since I was having trouble sitting still, we went for another two mile walk.  That was good.  Four miles in no socks means I got a blister on the bottom of my right food.  That was bad.

I promised a piece of art for a fundraising event benefiting Ravenwood Outdoor Learning Center and my time was pretty much up since the event is this coming weekend.  Ravenwood is all about "getting kids outside for safe, hands-on learning adventures."  I have been in an artistic funk for the past couple of weeks and couldn't come up with anything I wanted to paint, so I went to Ravenwood's website looking for inspiration.  On their homepage I saw a hot link with this:  "Bring out your WILD CHILD at Ravenwood this summer!"  So this is what they are getting:

My letters got a little wonky, but I still like the way it came out.  And I spent a good part of the afternoon percolating on something else that hopefully will turn out with the feeling it has in my head.  Time will tell.

As a side note, when I put on socks last night I noticed some dark spots on my ankle.  Immediately I thought  "tick bites!"  When Roxie gets a tick bite it is a giant dark red spot on her belly because she has no hair on her belly.  I went into the bathroom to examine my ankle with a critical eye and discovered ... no tick bites.  It was splatters of purple paint.

Sigh.  I'm such a mess.

Heart of Gold

I've got quite the pile of "questionable" paintings building up.  I need some inspiration, STAT!

Ann Cipolato

Nonna died last night.  We knew it was coming, but it was still a surprise.  She had a stroke on the 11th -- actually it was two, one in the morning and one later in the afternoon -- and lost the ability to speak and lost movement in her right side.  I went down to Missoula with Derek to see her two Sundays ago, suspecting the worst.  She was asleep when we got there, and looking at her I thought for sure her eyes would pop open and that she would jump right out of bed.  She looked great!  We sat with her when she woke up and stayed to meet the home health care provider the family was interviewing that afternoon.  I don't know how much of the conversation Nonna could hear - she has no hearing in her right ear and wears a hearing aid in her left - but I think she mastered the art of faking it years ago.  We left that afternoon feeling more optimistic than we did on the way down.

Last Sunday we made another trip to Missoula.  Again, Nonna was sleeping when we arrived.  She looked frail this time.  When I held her hand it was skin and bones.  But when she woke up she was more engaging than the week before.  I'm not sure how much of what I said she actually heard, but we ended up laughing - belly laughs - for about twenty minutes.  It was priceless.  You can share a joke without a single word being spoken, and sometimes those are the best jokes.  Nonna was rubbing my hand with her thumb the entire time we were there.

This week she had some good days and some bad days.  Derek and I were making plans for the trip to Missoula this Sunday, so it was a shock when he called last night at about 9:30 to say Nonna had died.  Although I wish I had the chance to see her again, I'm glad our last visit together was such a good one.  I want to remember her with a smile on her face, sharing a laugh, sharing a secret.  Everytime I saw Nonna she would say, "Here's my beautiful redhead," even if I looked my worst.  She made me feel special, and for that I will forever be grateful.

Ann Cipolato.  She packed a whole lot of living into 97.5 years.  She left her family with hilarious stories, wonderful memories and fabulous recipes, and I am blessed to have been included in that family.  Two weeks ago Derek's aunt Gigi and I were joking about me being a bad penny - I keep turning up.  I don't think Nonna would have had it any other way.

I love you, Nonna, and I will miss you always.  Rest in peace.