It Lights the Whole Sky

Even after

All this time

The sun never says

to the Earth, 

"You owe me." 

Look what happens

With a love like that

It lights the whole sky.

-Hafiz

"It Lights the Whole Sky"

All works are copyrighted and all rights are reserved by the artist.

My original paintings are available in my online gallery.

Prints of many of my paintings are available in my Etsy shop. 

Let me know if you're interested in prints of my paintings.

  I welcome commissions.

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Batty for Austin, Texas

Well my "no pain after surgery" bragging rights officially came to an end this morning...in the most creepy way.

I had just taken a shower, reached in the cupboard to get my deodorant, and when I grabbed it my poor little innocent fingers encountered a great big cockroach. I flailed and screamed, of course. I mean, who wouldn't? And then I saw some serious stars and I wailed and wailed, waking everyone in the house up. It was the most unimaginable pain that is hard to even put words to. My flailing had affected the spot in me where there had been a rib just last week, and I'd made that and the surrounding area quite grouchy.

Five minutes later I was still quite shaken but back to my "no pain" state, thankfully. And now cockroaches have been moved to my "kill on sight" list. It's not a huge demotion from my "catch and feed to the chickens" list, but they should most definitely quake at the sight of me.

<shudder>


And I created this bag out of a shirt that had one of my paintings printed on it. The painting is titled "Congress Avenue Bats". The name of the bag, however, is "Batty for Austin, Texas". The strap is long enough to be worn over the shoulder and the bag itself is close to messenger bag size. I'm so happy I saved all of these t-shirts...and my sweet husband is so happy that I'm finally doing something with them.

"Batty for Austin, Texas" - $25

Click here to view my gallery.  Most of my paintings are for sale and I welcome commissions.

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Keeping Close

My sweet old lady dog, Scout...

I took her to the vet today for a bit of blood work to make sure she could continue taking her incontinence meds (old lady dog problems). As we sat in the waiting room, she to my left looking away, she kept scooching backward, inch by inch. I found myself moving to the next chair down the line three times as she scooch, scooch, scooched.

My precious girl, keeping close to her mama. Love....

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Black and Blue

It's so liberating when you first get to drive off in your own car.  My little guy is so ready to get to that point.  He's just on the cusp, almost sixteen.  But when you're on this side of the cusp, stuff like this still happens.


- Stuck having your mom take you to a doctor's appointment that very soon you'd be able to take yourself to.

- Notice in the reflection of the building's big window door that you're wearing a blue shirt.

- Notice that your mom's reflection is also wearing a blue shirt...the same shade of blue!

- Notice that you're wearing black shorts.

- Notice that your mom is wearing black capris.

- Your mom makes a totally unhelpful comment:  "Hey, at least we're not both wearing strappy sandals."

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World Travelin'

Costco style, that is.

After I worked out at the gym today I hit the Costco because we were out of everything.  Figuring there'd be no samples available, or at least none that I could eat with my finicky diet, I scarfed a couple dried pineapple slices from a bag I keep in my car for just such emergencies, and head in.

Well, I tell you what...I had the best Costco sample day ever!

Stuffed grape leaves, the most delicious lentil soup, hummus, and dried mango.  I was in Kali appetite heaven.

And now that I think about it, I didn't buy one thing I sampled.  Ya, I have no explanation for that.

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A Mom's Advice is Rarely Heeded

I bribe my kids to get them to hang out with me.  It's a fact.  Just the other day I told my little guy that I'd buy him lunch at Chipotle if he'd walk there with me.  He negotiated on the walking bit, of course...and off we went, I walking and he riding his bike...I in a scarf, gloves, and two sweaters, he in a T-shirt and sweat pants even though I asked him twice if he wanted to dress more warmly.

And it was groovy.  He stayed right by me, conversed with me the entire way, ate his way-too-big burrito, and we started walking back.  The wind picked up a bit and suddenly he was riding closer to me.  Way too close.  And then he got behind me.  Right behind me.


Little guy:  "You need to eat a lot more, mom."

Me:  "Why?"

Little guy:  "Because you're a lousy windscreen."

Me:  "Wouldn't it be easier if you'd just worn a hoodie?"

Little guy:  "Why?  I'm fine."


I'm pretty sure that someday I'll be right. 

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Dietary Documentation

Sometimes I'm paranoid.  It's true.  Like when my kid came home with an English homework assignment the other day.  My first clue that I had something to worry about?  It had nothing to do with grammar, punctuation, or anything Englishy.

Here's what it was.  He had to fill out a chart saying what he ate, who had made it, where it was bought, and if it was processed.

My paranoia?  Well, frankly, the filled-in chart might just be grounds for a CPS call.  While my child eats a lot, I can't exactly say he eats "well".  I tell ya, you can force broccoli on a seven-year-old, but teenagers are much more savvy in their methods of resistance.  Anyway, this chart went back to school all full of processed foods not made by mom.    So, yes, not only does he eat processed foods, I don't even cook it for him.

I will tell you this...since then I've been shoving apples and, yes, broccoli at him every chance I get.  OK, I need a redo on that chart!

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Mothering

I get on myself a lot for my mothering skills...go to bed thinking of all the ways I've surely done damage to my kids and how much therapy they'll need as adults and all that.  But every once in a while I get a little reminder that maybe, just maybe, I'm doing an OK job of this...that my kids will survive the dumb luck of being born to me and all my failings.


Me:  "I love you, babe!"

Little guy:  "I know.  I love me, too!"


And perhaps if I hold on to this I'll go to bed tonight and rest well in the knowledge that maybe, just maybe, my kids will turn out OK.

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