Wednesday, July 15, 2015

What to do, what to do

 I've been thinking about my blog; there's that, at least. Not sure what I'm thinking, except for guilt. Definitely thinking/feeling guilt. This poor blog has basically been ignored for several months. I can't even look at it because I feel such guilt.

For a long time I didn't feel like writing. Hopelessly wordless. I think I blew my wad, pardon the expression, getting my books published and that task was so huge, so exhausting and, ultimately, so disappointing, that I just couldn't muster up the energy to even think about writing again.

Lately little ideas have been flitting around my brain. Thoughts. Like, I'll be driving somewhere and I'll sink into that mysterious funk-like state that used to meant ideas were hatching, and I'd think, gee, this would make a good blog post. But then I remembered that I don't actually blog anymore. Cause you have to blog to blog.

I know, I'm hella deep.

There's also the reciprocal side of blogging. If you blog, and hope other people will read your posts, you should read their posts as well. Obviously I haven't been doing that either. My entire social media interactions have been limited to brief Facebook scribbles, mostly jokes and occasionally a self-righteous arrow aimed at racists and other nasty folk. I've been spending more time painting, sewing and cooking than I have doing anything else. And only one of those at a time. I've always prided myself on multi-tasking but apparently if I'm sewing, I'm not painting, and if I'm painting there's going to be take-out for supper.

It's not like I don't care what my blogger friends are up to: I do. Sincerely. But I used to spend hours, every day, catching up with other blogs. I just don't want to invest that kind of time anymore.

So the dilemma is, if I'm not going to read other blogs, I probably shouldn't blog. But then again, I didn't start a blog to necessarily have it read by other people: I started one because I wanted to write, and blogging was new and exciting and I fell in love with every aspect of it.

I always promised myself I wouldn't write one of those "should I blog or not" posts, but here I am. I think this is more an out-loud argument for myself trying to line up the positive and the negative and finally answering The Clash's age old question, "Should I stay or should I go?"

Heck, I don't know. I'll see how I feel about all this tomorrow. Meanwhile, I don't expect you to read my drivel. Move on. Read a post from a blogger who truly has a passion for the game; someone who actually has something to say.

This? This is just the inner musings of someone putting off laundry.

Tuesday, March 31, 2015

The Albert Einstein Side of My Brain

I get my best ideas while changing the kitty litter, like solving world hunger and reinventing the square wheel. I seem to go off into some kind of scoop 'n poop la-la-land. One side of my brain is busy being Albert Einstein, the other half is, well, gawd knows what it is doing. Obviously not thinking, that's for sure.

I bought these cheap-ass garbage bags for kitty poop purposes and the first time I went to use them, I realized I wouldn't be able to get one open without wet fingers. You know how plastic bags glom together? You need mad skills to get some of them open, either that or some spit on your fingers.

Usually I lick my fingers in order to open said bags. But at that moment they were covered in kitty litter germs. Which are, like, fatal, right? I mean, who wants to get kitty poop in their mouth? I sat there staring at the bag, trying to figure out a way to open it without licking my crap encrusted fingers. Finally I just said, "feck it," maybe if I lick 'em real quick the germs won't stick. Like the three second food on the floor rule.

"Gah," I said, making quick work of the licking.

It wasn't until I was done spitting in the sink and rinsing my mouth out with gagloads of salt water and Listerine that Albert Einstein finally took over the D-oh part of my brain: I didn't have to lick my finger - all I had to do was SPIT on it.

Tuesday, January 13, 2015

Ice Hut Village

Ice fishing is not just a hobby – it's a way of life, and huts are like people's homes, as individual as they are. This painting has a smattering of different ice hut styles. Some, like the church, seem outlandish, but all of them exist on the world's frozen lakes. All you have to do is google ice hut villages and you'll be astounded at the variety of different huts you'll see. If you take a close look at the lures in this painting, you'll see they are all real lures, including the Swedish Pimple and the William's Wabler Ice Jig. See how many lures you recognize. Surely there's a hut and a lure you can call your own. My husband's favourite is the log cabin and the Wabler. Incidentally, that's my LEAST favourite. I actually am torn between the trailer and the skinny blue and white one. Which is yours?

36" x 12" original acrylic painting on stretched canvas. Gessoed. Varnished. Sides are painted black so no framing is necessary. For more information visit my Etsy shop.

Tuesday, December 30, 2014

Don't you just LOVE a cat in uniform?

O CANADA! That's how I felt when I was painting this handsome feline. Is he a hunk of burning cat love or what? I've always been a sucker for a man in uniform (I mean, who isn't?) but I have a special appreciation for the Royal Canadian Mounted Police when they're in full dress uniform. All that pressed red serge ... and brass ... and, sigh ... (excuse me while I have a cold shower).

I love this painting a lot (it's my favourite so far) and hope to do a few more animals wearing the world famous Mountie uniform. Maybe a moose? Or a bear? Can't wait to get started.

Meanwhile, a good friend of mine (Mr. Harry Sanderford) suggested I call this dashing dude "Cuddly Do-Right." I think the name fits ... what do you think?

By the way, I sincerely hope everyone had a terrific holiday. Mine was ... different! But OK! Glad to get back to normal – whatever the feck normal is. (Let me know if you have a clue.)

8"x10" original acrylic painting on stretched, gessoed canvas, varnished. Sides are painted black so no framing is needed. For more information visit my Etsy shop:

Item is copyrighted and cannot be reproduced without permission from me.

Friday, November 28, 2014

Kiosk at Sunrise

Did another painting today, which makes me extremely happy. I have been really busy the last week or so doing paintings for Christmas presents and the very last one I did, for a very dear friend, turned out GROSS.

I was so disappointed that I stayed away from the brush for a while.

Finally I told her, "I did a painting for you and it really sucks," and I felt so much better afterwards that I started painting again.

The moral of the story? If something sucks, admit it! Shout it from the fecking rooftops! You'll feel EVER so much happier!

This painting, by the way, was inspired by a photo I took a couple years ago at Kiosk, at sunrise, in the northern part of Algonquin Park. We used to go there every spring and every fall for fishing trips. It's a gorgeous place, desolate and wildly beautiful, and I miss it like crazy. (It's available for purchase at my Etsy shop.)

By the way, I can't show you the sucky one because apparently my friend still wants to receive its suckiness for Christmas. So it has to be a SURPRISE SUCK, if you get my drift.

Geez that sounded bad ...