One wonders, Vol. XXXIII

The older I get, and I am very old, like (gulp) 70 big ones old, the more absurd this world seems to me.  People are all het up about all the wrong things.  Like no marshmallows in the Lucky Charms.  What (adult) person eats Lucky Charms?  Haven't they heard about artificial colorings?  High fructose corn syrup?  Jeez, folks, grab some Cheerios.  Or better yet, some steel-cut oatmeal.  Organic honey.  NUTS!  Funny, but I used to serve my kids hot dogs wrapped in crescent rolls.  With American cheese.  Well, I was 30.  I didn't know much better.  And I was on a strict budget.  Lucky Charms are expensive!  Trader Joe's sells cereals much less expensive that are much better for you.  They all have a lot of sugar, though, like it is the second or third ingredient on the list, which means that it is the second or third most abundant ingredient in the mix.  I have given up on cereal.  And lately, I have given up on most sugar.  Oh, I miss it.  And it is not all gone.  I made my protein pancakes this morning and spread them with pumpkin butter.  And whipped cream.  No, not that aesthetic yet.  But I made them with an organic egg and 0 percent Greek yogurt, and multi-grain pancake mix (has some of those oats in it, too).  Waiting for results of this year's cholesterol test.  Mine was up a little last year, when cookies, cake, pies and ice cream were regular fare, a sort of reward for growing so old.  I know that sugar causes inflammation, and inflammation causes high cholesterol.  Should be interesting, seeing if this little change has helped that.  Certainly has helped my fluffiness.  I have lost 12 lbs.  So, take it from a skinny  old person.  Can the Lucky Charms.

1-800-itscrap

I am thinking of starting an artist's only suicide hot line.  Encouraging messages, like paint over it stupid, or throw it on the floor and walk on it for a while.  Remember Pollack, Matisse, Kandinsky.  Picasso!  Look at art online.  Go for a walk.  And best of all, just keep swimming.  Stay in action.  Here is a little bit of action I have been working on for the last few days, or daze, a layer at a time.  Cannot get away from the chaos of it all. I noticed at Art for Life that my lioness arrested folks.  They looked, then they looked again.  I think that is the secret of selling art.  Make something that is hard to look away from.  This piece is that, if you can get over your first glance. 

Self actualized woman strikes again!

The check engine light came on the other day, in my car.  My previous MO was to drive around for a few months, sweating and muttering and praying it would not blow up.  (I actually had one that did just that.)  Not now.  Now I am totally on top of everything.  So I got out the Yellow Pages, and found the ad for the place that checks this malady, free.  That cost me $150, just to diagnose the problem.  I had to re-schedule for the actual repair.  I managed to get rides from dear friends on both ends of the transaction.  Today, I took it in again, and decided to just find my own way home.  This process began with noticing the number on the bus that I often pass on my way into town.  Then I looked up our transit system online and found that, as a venerable senior, it was only $.75 to ride.  Pretty affordable.  My mechanic is on a well-traveled route, too, but I decided to walk the mile or so to the downtown bus mall, a lovely 20 minute stroll past several auto repair places and a couple of tatoo parlors.  I waited there by the sign for the #3, and considered mumbling to myself like several of my fellow passengers.  The driver was very nice, and did not need to see my Medicare card to accord me senior rates.  The bus was clean and fairly cheerful, the ride was smooth, up until the end when I pulled the cord on top of my stop.  Nevertheless, I am heartened that I can take such good care of my little self in the big bad world without my wheels.  On the return trip, I can get a transfer!

The artist speaks. Now listen!

The lioness went to Art for Life today, an annual silent auction to benefit Face to Face, our local AIDS hospice.  Our county was particularly hard hit in the epidemic.  Now, this is a worthy cause, indeed, plus it puts the artist's work in the way of folks who buy art, albeit cheaply, at this particular venue.  I like to exercise my mind with critiquing the fashion statements.  Money certainly can't buy taste, that's for sure.  But I digress.  Now, if I were this organization, who depend upon the local art community for the very fuel for their fire, I would be really nice to the artists.  That means fawning a little, and certainly oohing and ahing over their piece, whatever it might be, even if it is crap.  Mine is not, as you can see.  Well, I think it's not.  Really, folks, artists have pissy little egos that need constant tidbits to keep going.  Feed them!