Dvorak, a 6B pencil, and a trashy novel...

That about sums it up. Break is more than halfway gone, sigh, and the sum of my accomplishments dwindles daily. I am getting cozy with The New World Symphony, which I think is just delightful, though it still resembles movie music. My shoebox drawing is nearing completion, thank HP. I didn't like this project, don't like the drawing, and will be just thrilled when it is behind me. Tomorrow, I will be painting some eggs. No, not on the eggs, but an acryllic of brown eggs in a bowl, an homage to Julian Freud, who did an absolutely transcendental painting of this very subject. Also, I really need to mow the back lawn, and now that I look at it, the front one as well. That always seems such a daunting project, yet, when it is all over with, I am always happy with the result, a neatly trimmed up yard. So, I think I will curl up with my new trash novel that I picked up at the Salvation Army thrift store yesterday, while I was prowling and looking for furniture. And guess what! I get a senior discount there, 1/2 off! Now, there's a good reason to get old. Right.

Hey, I'm breaking here!

Ah, spring break. While the kids are off to exciting parties in exotic locations, I am happily sitting here at 11 AM, in my sweats, piddling away at the computer. Adieu asymptotes. Ciao Caravaggio. Toodles tenebrism. Plans are to work in the garden, eat lots of good food, do a movie or two, walk more with the dog, and yes, write a report for art history, do some algebra homework, and finish the dreaded shoebox drawing. Slooooowly. No hurrying. Like they say in Hawaii, by 'n by, brudda. That is such a luxury. Anyone who says money can't buy happiness ignores the true value of it. Money can buy time, the one thing we never seem to have enough of. Time to watch the flowers bloom (roses are out, so sweet). Time to sip the coffee and stare off into space. Time to prop up on many pillows and read trashy novels. Okay, it's not exactly exhilerating. I've been there and done that. It got me into a lot of trouble. So, I'll take the backyard over Ft. Lauderdale any day.

Holidaze here...

Easter has not been my favorite holiday since I grew too old for my Aunt Theresa's backyard egg hunt. I did that for my kids, of course, later, and learned that it is good to count the eggs before hiding them, so as not to be surprised on Memorial Day with petrified or putrified remnants of Easter. I do think that Easter is a good reminder of the fact that life on this little blue ball is transient. I like what Nate said on Six Feet Under, when asked by a grieving woman "why do we have to die?" Nate said "To make life important." That's a good thing to remember. And I think we do, even if we don't think we do. The daredevil defies death with every circuit of the track, the devout sacrifice pleasure for the promise of a better existence, and the dilletante rolls around in pleasure for its own sake, and frequently dies sooner because of it. Me, I just try to savor each day. It is a task, too. My natural state is misery. I lived in my martrydom for most of the first half of my life, and while I was not griled like St. Lawrence or shot full of arrows like St. Sebastian, I do have scars to this day. So I have to often bait myself to get out of bed. This week it was pumpkin pie for breakfast. Food is my passion these days. Some would think that sad, but food will never forsake me and walk out just before my birthday. Food will never tell me I am fat, even if it was the instrument of that condition. And, anyway, once it gets me out of bed, I am off for other pursuits, like education, which I find eminently pleasureable, and sometimes really difficult, too. Whatever, this life is much more because it will end. And that could be any moment now.

Things that suck...

Getting old is so interesting. I am blessed in that I do not look my age, though I am not sure anymore what 62 should look like, anyway. And the real blessing is that I don't feel my age, either. I have just a tinge of arthritis, in my right thumb, probably as a result of jamming so many times in softball when I was a kid. Coordination has never visited me in any phase of this lifetime. And I get sciatica once in a while, probably a result of sitting crooked when I drive, which I seem to do a lot (got to get out there and wave at those cows, you know). I am an impatient person, and want to get going without paying attention to my posture, so HP gives me a pain in the butt to remind me. Sigh. What really irks me is this thing about forgetting stuff. I have gotten a lot better about noting the placement of my car in lots, and especially in that hella-huge parking garage that just opened at the college, but still can occasionally be seen wandering helplessly around pressing the red button on my keyless remote, with a dazed expression on my face. That is, if I can find my keys at all to get out to that parking lot. Lately, I have made a ritual of putting them, and my sunglasses, both of which are essential for walking out the front door, in a drawer in my little roll-top desk. That has worked really well. But then there's my cell phone. I use it seldom, and it tends to live in the car, where it rests perfectly in a little niche in the dashboard connected to the charger that goes into the cigarette lighter socket. Occasionally, I stick it in my bookbag, or my purse. When I went to look for it yesterday, it wasn't in any of those places. It also was not on the kitchen table, here on my (admittedly messy) desk, on top of my bedroom bureau, on the floor by the bed (where most lost things wind up), on the living room coffee table, or under the seats of the car. I always pray to St. Jude whenever I lose things, and he has been admirably efficient in that regard. I have only lost one thing that never returned to me in the 16 years I have adopted this practice. So, this morning, I made one more sweep of the area, then sat down to have a little talk with St. J, and it occured to me to check the pocket of my jean jacket, and voila! There it was. How sweet it is. Except it would be infinitely better if I could remember in the first place. Sigh.

Creating here!

Today, we drew each other in drawing class. It was a hoot. I drew little Serena, who has a sweet heart-shaped face. The best thing was that her drawing of me was very flattering. I just love that kid! And then I worked on my self-portrait in painting. As usual, mine was different from everyone else's work. I actually did what the teacher suggested. Well, I am kind of timid and don't know what the hell I am doing, I don't have a lot of choice here. Anyway, I mixed up a lot of different values of skintones, from pinkish to brownish to grayish to greenish (like under the chin) and just kept putting them where I saw them, and voila! There I was, with a gigantic ear and a jawline that went clear to Chicago, but it was definitely me-like. Today, I got to cut back the ear, parse the bangs with some intervening skin, shorten that jaw, highlight and undertone my hair, and put in little touches like light on one side of my face, little sparkles in my eyes, shadow of my glasses over my nose. And it is really much like me. I am not unhappy. This is good. I think even the teacher was impressed. I know I was.

Things change...

I used to pride myself on being up on the latest technology. I had the latest, most up to date computer, once upon a time, an AT, large footprint, 40MB hard-drive that was partitioned 32/8 (Big Bad Mama and Lil Squirt). I menued that sucker myself, in Basic. In color! Just 30 little years later, and I have totally lost the ability to interact with my operating system. I have been trying for an age to get all these file out of my startup file so that I don't have to wait for them to load before taking off into the Internet ether. And now, even my VCR has revolted. I have this neat DVD/VCR dual deck in my bedroom, which suits me just fine, because I like doing movies in bed, with Boo and my big mug of hot chocolate. Recently, the DVD deck has refused to play. I tried all my tricks, like new batteries in the remote, open the little drawer and shut it a few times, turn it off and on a few dozen times, etc. Nothing worked. Then I asked a whole bunch of people, and the concensus was that to get it repaired would cost more than a new one, and so, I bit the bullet and bought one ( I also do not like to sacrifice or suffer without my creature comforts). And I couldn't get it to play, either. As a last resort, I got out the manual. And, voila, I figured it out! I also figured out how to get the OLD one to play, too. Sigh. Now it looks like the new one will go into the back room. Whatever, I feel very smart, and rich, both at the same time. And it was all an accident of hitting the wrong button on the remote. What a world!

Me and the weather...

For a big-boned German-Scots-Irish fraulein, I have an amazingly touchy little body. Other women sail through menopause without a single twinge, while I stew and turn red and my glasses fog over, every twenty minutes, 24/7/365. I am easily chilled, too, and almost froze off my extremities Wednesday, when I looked out and saw sunshine, and went off in too little clothes. The wind was up and it was icy cold. Then I got my barometer headache. My sinuses do not adapt well to changes in the barometric pressure. I slogged to school, of course, but am really off my feed, and now hunkered down, fortified with aspirin and praying for sleep. Last night was better, but still, not a whole night of rest. Oh, and gee, there's another hot flash! Actually, when I think about it, I am my own microclimate, self-contained as it were. Lucky me! Homework is on the back burner, as well as midterm on Tuesday in art history. If nothing changes in the next few days, the pressure should equalize for a while. Oh, and maybe I will be able to finish mowing the back lawn. That would be nice.

A side dish of humility...

After wowwing them in drawing class, I crashed and burned in algebra, with a 73 on the last test. Okay, that's a C, nothing to be ashamed of,and, anyway, if I do better on the next two (and, honestly, it doesn't seem that hard to better than that), teacher will drop this one. Meanwhile, I will just keep swimming, as Dory says in Finding Nemo, my favorite spiritual movie. Today, I drew two perspectives of objects in a shoebox, viewing them from holes cut in one end. It was challenging, mostly because I don't see that well at that distance. My eyes work well for objects far away, so driving is not a problem, and I use readers to, well, read and do close work. But intermediate stuff, like on the television, and at the end of a shoebox, well, that's problematical. So I cheated and made the holes larger. That worked just fine, actually, and I got the darned things done. While the algebra left me wounded, I did make some fine drawings of walnut shells on Monday that I am very proud of. Okay, it's not the Mona Lisa, but, hey, even Leonardo had to start somewhere!

That little old artist, ME!

After learning that I am earning a B in painting class, today I got the good news that I am getting an A in drawing. Well, I like it, a lot, and I put a lot into my sketchbook. My elephant was a pip. I finished the drawing of the little building, and beefed up my Fokker (that's an airplane, in case you were wondering). Today, I did two dynamite walnut shells in charcoal. This is a different and wondrous medium for me. I just love smearing value all over the place. And that's what we did in painting class, too, charcoal sketches. Of ourselves. Yep, next assignment is a self-portrait. We looked at a lot of them today, Cezanne, Matisse, Julian Freud. My head is spinning. It would seem that almost anything goes here. I had fun drawing myself, and got the gyst of me on the paper, I think. Hard to say. Whatever, next is a torn paper collage of the portrait, with lots of different colors of paper. How creative can one get, anyway?

Friday, after...

I had a terrible algebra hangover yesterday morning, so I busied myself with prosaic tasks that required no thinking. My house got a scupulous cleaning, which began with emptying the vacuum receptacle of a winter's worth of dirt and silt, which immediately coated the whole surface of the vacuum itself. Fortunately, I am a sensible person, so I got out my blow-dryer and blew it all off into the sunset (I was on the back patio at the time, I've done this before and know better than to do it in the house). Boo was pretty spooked by the time I was done with this process, and had to have a Milkbone to calm down. After lunch and my soap, I headed out on my Friday errands. My path deviated pretty greatly, as I went to the hardware store. This is one of two places which are guaranteed to bring me to my knees (the second is the auto supply store), but I needed some stuff badly enough to brave it. My first and foremost need was a new tub stopper-upper. Since I am female and not adverse to asking directions, I did find one, and a little strainer thingy to catch the hair in, too. Then I needed wingnuts. See, I do know some hardware jargon. Wingnuts come in 99 different sizes, but, again, owing to my common sense, I brought one from the easel that is missing one. I didn't bring one from the other easel, though, only knew it was smaller than the one I brought. I mean, how many of these things can there be? Since there are many more than I could have imagined, I solved that problem by also buying the screw that fit the nut. How smart is that! I also picked up some snail bait, and I ran into two of my college chums, both of whom remembered me, so I felt really honored. Then, on to Target, to get a little pouch to keep in my new bookbag to hold my ID, makeup and $$$. And, I wanted to replace the sunglasses I lost last week (sunglasses and umbrellas are collateral damage to college, I find). Because I was such a good girl, I bought myself a little newsboy cap to put on when my hair is impossible, like about half the time. Did I mention my scholarship money arrived the day before? How sweet it is.

Ahhhhh...

I love it when I get to the point of believing that stepping out my door is another great adventure, and I am there, again. Yesterday, I was on my way to my usual parking lot across the street from school, and I noticed this little sign on the big, new parking garage (which has been under construction forever), and it said OPEN! I was in the wrong lane to turn into it, so I continued on, and, just to be sure, I peeked in as I passed, and, lo and behold, there were cars parked in there! So, today, I parked there, too. Imagine, no more playing chicken with the traffic on Mendocino Ave.! No more lugging heavy bags and portfolios, and trusting that the crosswalk flasher really HAS been activated! Of course, it is three months behind schedule, but hey! I'm happy anyway. The rest of my day was lighter because of this. Yeah, I'm a cheap date, but that is the real key to happiness, in my book. The fewer expectations I have, the happier I am. Which is good, because I had an algebra test today. No expectations there, for sure.

God bless tthat groundhog...

It is the time of year that Californians snicker up their (short) sleeves. While much of the country still languishes under a carpet of dirty snow, the mustard is blooming in the vineyards and the thermometer is edging up through the 70's. Balmy little breezes waft through the acacia trees and the plum trees are in blossom. So, whenever we aren't up hugging trees in the redwoods or lolling in the back of stretch-out limos on our weekly wine-tasting jaunts, we are out in the yard mowing and trimming, running around the lake, playing tennis at the corner park, and chasing our dogs up and down our lovely beaches. And, to be fair, some of us are lined up at the allergy clinic for our shots, too. With all this in mind, I made the big wardrobe exchange this weekend, unpacking my spring-summer wardrobe from its storage containers in the back room, and refilling them with sweaters and flannel pjs. It is like opening a great big surprise package. My, I have some cute tee shirts! And the best news of all; my capris and shorts still fit! That made my week right there. Hell, it made my season.

I am not easily assimilated...

I want my hour back! Change is not my strong suit. I have gotten used to the seasons changing. It is easier than moping around a lot, muttering under my breath. And spring is nice, actually. But couldn't we do it without monkeying around with the time? As I grow older, it takes longer and longer to get used to it. My internal clock relies as much on the angle of the sunlight as my (pseudo) lawn does. It knew to start growing long again, all by itself. Me, I tried to ignore that fact. And for one little person, I seem to have an awful lot of clocks to change, besides the aforementioned internal one. It started with my watch, and, most importantly, my alarm clock. There is the one on the wall over my computer. And, oh look! The computer itself needs changing, which means the laptop probably needs attention, too. In the kitchen, the stove, the microwave and the coffeemaker. Then there are the VCR's, two of them. That's, let's see, TEN clocks. Amend that, eleven. There's the one in the car, also. Well, I lied. The stove didn't have to be changed because it never go set back last fall ( I couldn't figure out how to do it). I am consoling myself the I will, eventually, get this hour back, in six frigging months. At the moment, it isn't helping, though.

Oops...

Midterm grades are out, and I am earning a B in painting. Not surprised. So far, efforts have been less than stellar. Must figure out what is out of whack here. Drawing is better, easier in many ways. I have started an at-home sketchbook, preparatory to doing real drawings, which require more than a No. 2 pencil. Bought a drawing board today, as we begin the 18"x 24" size next week. What a glorious day today is! Spring has arrived, and with it, need to mow lawns. Backyard will need to be whacked down first. I am just about to go wheel the lawnmower out and see if it is in the mood to go to work, again. Lots of things have come up in front that weren't there last year, at least, I don't remember them being there. And my bulbs are coming up, again. It's like magic!

La vie est belle quand je m'amuse.

I have decided that I am either magnificently well-adjusted or totally bugnuts insane. I really like being alone. Thursday, I got home from school, caught the last 10 minutes of my soap, which is all you really need to see, because anything that is going to happen does in the last 10 minutes, or it doesn't happen at all. I had a little snack, some trail mix, and sat down at the computer to decompress with some mahjohng, my favorite computer passtime. To accompany this, I selected an album of French art music, you know, some Debussy, Offenbach, Ravel, a little Bizet, stuff like that. Now, I usually don't think of the French when I think MUSIC. I tend toward the Germans and the Russians. But this selection was delectable. I particularly love that French sense of humor, and it was there in abundance, in Dukas' Sorceror's Apprentice, in Saint-Saens Dance Macabre. I found myself smiling. It reminds me that I need to take myself lightly. Put down the algebra, and all the picky stuff about my painting, that is composed all wrong and over-worked and generally a mess. Angels fly because they take themselves lightly.

A backup apple....

I have painting class every Monday and Wednesday. Currently, we are doing two still lifes, from the same setup, one in brush and the other in palette knife. This means that I lug a bag of fruit to and from school on those days, two apples and one lemon. There is only one apple in the composition, but, you know how unreliable apples are. I take an extra one in case a big bruise springs up somewhere. So far, I have been able to remember and not leave those poor little fruits in my art locker to wither away. Actually, the lemon is the same one I used to draw in drawing class earlier in the semester. Hardy little things, lemons. A little refrigeration goes a long way. And Monday, I am supposed to bring a (white) onion and a (yellow) pepper to drawing class. I guess they can share the bag with the lemon and the apples. I guess that is better than the baseball mitt I was supposed to bring this week, like I have access to sporting equipment. What with trips to the grocery store and trips to the art supply store for yet more stuff, weekends are pretty busy here. And I am doing the brush still life over, because I didn't think enough about the composition and hate the mess I made at school. Well, that will keep me out of trouble for a few hours. Algebra and oil painting. My brain is well-toned, right and left.

Thoughts on a gray Sunday...

I have lost my broom. Cannot find that sucker anywhere. Says something about my process here, doesn't it. And I was all ready to sweep up the camelia blooms that have dropped, too. So I am back here, at the computer, listening to choral music, which seems oddly appropos because most of it is religious in nature, Verdi's Requium, Bruckener's Ave Maria. My life is steeped in Christian iconography these days what with art history and the Renaissance. I get that there was a fervency about Christianity in the music and the art of the period. I also get that artists, if they wanted to create at all, were pretty much restricted to this subject. And then came the rebirth of humanism, and we got to see things like Primavera, and the Mona Lisa. And the middle class rose from the dust, and wonderful portraits and still lifes were created. Very little is now created for the sake of religion, unless you count the recent upsurge of angels, everywhere. Ah, but the angels on my Classic Angel Screensavers are all 500 years old. I saw most of them hanging on the walls of the Vatican Museum, or in the Uffizi. Where was I going with that? I guess I will mosey over to Costco, get a new broom with the savings on ZipLoc Bags and other sundry, absolutely necessary supplies. There's a thought.

That was the week that was...

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. This last week, that is. I got irritated and decided to stay in my misery most of yesterday. It was cold. I had a huge load of stuff that I was trundling to painting class, mostly props for the new still life in painting class. I also had some (really big) library books that needed returning, and then did not get my morning brew because I had to beg for some help in the math lab on this really obtuse word problem on our algebra homework. Our drawing class met upstairs, in the room I don't like, and we did perspective drawing, which I detest. And then Kevin waxed eloquent and was, as usual, late letting us go which meant I had about 15 minutes to eat before trundling over to algebra class. We saw slides in painting class, Cezanne and Matisse mostly, still lifes, and then she reviewed our objects. I realized I brought all the wrong stuff. Sigh. Nevertheless, I arranged some of it, and did some quick sketches. Then I slogged back across the streetto my car, totally whipped. Boo and I retired early. This morning I got to have my coffee, and spent a happy hour sipping and calculating my algebra homework. Art history was about Michelangelo, one of my favorites. I had a book about him when I was 20, and 37 years later actually got to see his work up close and personal. Today in class, I was inspired by the amazing vision the man had. I had forgotten the expression on David's face, pained at the necessity of his next act. The artist captured the moment of greatest tension in this magnificent work. I left class feeling great to be alive. I ran into several friends today who were happy to see me. Algebra was fun, and I understood what we are doing currently, always a delightful moment. It didn't rain till I was home and cozy. I saw a sponsee who told me, now that she is sponsoring a woman, how amazed she was at my capacity to listen and not try to fix her. I made my favorite dinner, Mexican pizza, and played a few games with the computer to decompress after paying my bills, while listening to some symphonic music. Life is good today. Funny how that happens.

Hot stuff!

I just got a certificate in the mail stating that I am on the Dean's list at school. Wow, that's swell. And it means I can join honor societies and possibly get scholarships. Now, that's swell, too. It wasn't a goal, not really. I just thought that since I was there, and since I was paying for it, I should do my best and get the most from my higher education. Now, I see there are little perks. Now, that's sweet of them. I wonder if there's an age limit on those scholarships? This should have happened 43 years ago. But, ain't it grand that it's happening at all? Yep. Somehow it reminds me of the time I took the Mensa test. It was in one of my magazines, but I did the time limit and everything. Turned out I was 20 points shy. Sigh. Then I looked at it again, and realized I had passed with 20 points to spare, just didn't add it up right. And I figured that probably, if I couldn't add, I wasn't Mensa material after all. Must mull on this. I'd feel silly sitting in a roomful of kids at a Phi Theta Kappa meeting, wouldn't I?

Saturday, and it's raining...

All my important things are accomplished. Have had my usual non-fat latte, been to my very spiritual AA meeting, and made a fly-by to the art supply store for two 16x20 canvasses for next weeks painting projects. I made myself a hamburger for lunch, and have played a couple of games of slide-tiles with my computer (Iwon both, of course). Now for the fun stuff - laundry, mopping various areas, a wrestling match with my algebra homework, and some Boo love, a little grooming of this kind of scruffy version of my dog. The rain keeps me from pruning chores, alas. Oh, and I have two Netflix movies, Thank You for Smoking, which I've already seen, but isn't that Aaron Eckhart a doll, and Casanova, which I haven't seen yet. How sweet it is! Sometimes I think I am lonely. Not very often, though. Most of the time, I am contented with my own company. Perhaps I am meant to be my very own beloved. You think? Whatever, it is a blessed Satuday, rain and all.