This deer is not real, it is all white. I loved it. I think hunting deer for its meat is what a hunter is meant to do & has been doing since both man & beast walked this earth. I grew up in a small town, where I would see deer strapped to the front…
Category: my soap box
Alessandro Ciapanna made me smile…
when I really dont want to. i am pulled in too many directions, when I long for peace & silence. pulled into giving, not earning. people take, but never give back. I guess lack of sunlight makes everything seem so overwhelming, when really all i have to say is no. hugs to alessandro for achieving…
Wings to fly
This picture was taken on a pier somewhere in Florida, by a kind stranger, old enough to know we could out run him if he chose to take my camera with him. I look happy here, go figure. I think it was because my youngest still loved to snuggle & looked at me as though…
Forgive so many pictures today
My husband shot a few of me with my beautiful dogs.
The white one is Blue (male) & the silver & white is Nala (female)
check out my black tee shirt, its covered in fur. But a life without fur,
is no life at all.
We can’t save the world, but we can fix our corner of it. SHOP! Build, Make, Paint, Draw, Build furniture…..get back to work.
Amazing really, today I was looking at what you are looking at. My stats I will revel on occasion but you know the number of visits I get. You ready? 1. Photography @ 1,057 (this has fallen a great deal) 2. Art @ 455 views 3. STORE SHOOTING @ 438 views (in less then a…
My brother drew this on a paper bag while watching television
The eyes remind me of Leonardo da Vinci’s drawings. The eyes are what blow me away. Jason wasn’t copying anything. It was planted in his brain & he put it on paper. She is a super hero, who’s name escapes me, she was with the xmen for a bit. Out of the thousands of drawing that came from Jason’s hand I have only one. I have a brown paper bag framed & its in my art studio. My brother is embarrassed about it, that I have it framed, because he says it was just a doodle. If a 17 year old hand can doodle like this, I can’t imagine what it would be capable of doing now. But he was told his art is crap, from someone very important to him. He put his art away as though they were childhood play things. He is now 42 & still refuses to attempt to draw. Breaks my heart & hurts my soul. Its still in him, but he believes he would never be as good. He is right, because he has to start over & build the strength required to make his magic again.
My words fall on deaf ears. Being green with envy pushed me to study every book in the local libraries to learn to paint. The last time I studied art was as a senior in high school. So the natural artist hangs up his skills, tucks them away from sight & pretends he is not been given a gift. So I paint, or I did…pushing myself to be as good as he once was. I am a realist, I can’t really just throw paint on a canvas & call it art. But no one wants realisium. I paint what I see. The difference is I have to see the pictures of objects I paint, whereas Jason already has them in his head. I love my brother, he worries about my physical condition, I worry about him suppressing a gift given to him by God.
This is the best before & after picture ever, the wall, not the man.
I remember it was on of those days where the outside temp. was a good 5 degrees higher then our own internal temp. I remember thinking if our temps were this high, we would be in the hospital, dying & this man is outside painting. Some people can push that comfort level way down. I was sitting in my car with the a/c blasting so hard my I had model hair, eating chocolate that didn’t melt on the 2 second walk to my car. I am weak, since my surgery I wear socks & sweat shirts while everyone in the house is as close to being naked as I will allow. This week the highest of highs was 106 without counting heat index. 106 will put a man in a coma & lower his IQ to drooling & this man is painting in the sun. He is a non fiction superman. & someone is paying 10 dollars an hour to paint the laundry place or maybe die.
“well, bless his heart” That is a southern saying for. “what a damn fool”
I ate chocolate in a car with a/c running with gas @ 4 dollars a gallon.
“Well, bless her heart, she can’t help that she is a lazy, selfish, pig.” I thought to myself as I shove a candy bar down my throat.
No moral or happy ending. I didn’t like myself much. Do I care more for the men & women doing manual labor in 100 degree weather? Yes. But I can’t think of them, because I want to cry, I don’t have a soap box, I don’t have a job, I have health care & a/c. Can I change anything? Not really, I can just vote.
In Alabama, we cook ’em in the summer heat, legal or not.
There are plastic signs, metal signs, tin signs…
There are wooden signs stained & stickers placed upon the wood.
Then there is a love of a craft & what they do. Up in Stowe, Vermont, is a small old victorian house that makes signs with love of design, of history.
I couldn’t afford one, but they are worth the expense to new business owner, because they look like they are dedicated in doing what they love.
This sign is my fathers, It has hung in three or four different locations in Montpelier & he had carried it with him to Alabama. He said he didn’t know what to do with it now, because he works part-time for another. Just to keep his toes in.
My father is one of those doctors that look at you like a person in need of his help. Most doctors, these days, look at you as their next car payment. Because I was raised by a man who gave his all to his patients. I interview my doctors outright. Doctors are just people & if you don’t like them, try another. I ask them do you see me as a person or as money. If I believe they are ordering unnecessary tests or scheduling unnecessary appointments. I tell them what I think they are doing & if they stop I will stay with them. I paid a portion of their car or their vacation, but if that is all I am with no improvement to my health. Not only are they rotten doctors, they are rotten people.
Compassion, I will pay you for some of that, I will return, if you listen to me & not have scheduled the money, I mean patients, in the waiting room 5 minutes per patient, i will remain. Gosh, doctors are a dime a dozen these days.
I have a pain doctor who told me the truth about what has happened to me, that he might help or he might make me worse. I told him outright your hired. He laughed. Doctors work for me. I will listen & do as you say, as long as I know everything you call for is indeed needed & necessary. My pain doc’s bottom line is to keep his practice lucrative, but he knows that the only proper way to do that, is to help heal his patients.
I am better then I’ve been in 6 years. I don’t mind paying his car payments, if he is healing me. My father healed people whether they had money or not. He has been paid in art, food, & mostly love. Small town doc who cares about his patients becomes a celebrity. Everywhere he went, on the coldest days of winter, he was always given the warmest hellos, spoken from their hearts of the people he helped see.
This sign sits on his unfinished bathroom. To me it is a treasure, just like the name of the man the sign bares.
2me4art 