loolie and other unexpected visitors

Congratulations to Julie and Dana for apparently being the only ones 

capable of consistently taking a normal photograph. 

I am looking in random directions in the first two shots because of what always 

happens when I look at the camera/flash (see photo 3)

Ahhh, Saturday. If I could wrap my arms around you and give you a big wet sloppy kiss, I just might.  Gabe and I were out late last night celebrating the birth of Brooke G. 29 years ago.  Sonya wore a neon shirt and Chrissie's hair was kind of messy, but other than that the night went off without a hitch-if you don't count the fact that Brooke consumed an entire Smirnoff Ice (funny because that's just the size of a beer bottle, yet Brooke really can't hold her liquor...like I should talk, one was it for me, too).  And the surprise bonus...insert imaginary drum roll here...LOOLIE!  Julie and Ryan were in town.  Julie became "Loolie" to me a few years ago when Connor began speaking and hadn't yet mastered the skills of pronunciation, thus Julie was Loolie.  It seemed to fit.  We didn't leave until around midnight!  We felt so cosmopolitan about not being asleep after a night of tv-watching and playing with our cat.  No, not us, we were out.  That's why I had to sleep in.  

Daly has already returned to bed after being awake for about an hour this morning, and scrambling around the house like a crack-addict on speed.  I'd be tired too.  Things get frantic in his small head every once in awhile, and that'll take it out of a cat, let me tell you.  

Last night when we got home, G and I decided to finish watching American Gangster.  At some point the guy across the street (or one of his friends) attempted to enter our house.  The front door knob began turning back and forth (it was locked) and then a few pounds on the door.  Gabe opened it a crack and calmly and kindly said, "Heeeeey..." like you might to a small child. The guy swayed in the doorway for a second looking very confused and smelling very much like what I would imagine the bottom of a bottle of vodka would smell like if someone just relieved themselves in it (was that too graphic?  sorry Granny).  Then another guy yelled to him from across the street that he was at the wrong house.  Woops.  He managed to get back down the steps without falling, but his smell lingered in our living room for a couple minutes more.  Someday we'll move.

surry, eets long

Surly post coming on. I'm feeling a tension that I have to vent about some more (more than the long conversation I just had with Gabe). To some of you left-brainers (read: organized since birth, focused, efficient, unswerving, logical, orderly, methodical) this post will confuse and confound you even more about my kind (read: flexible, random, artistic, indecisive, emotional, unhurried).  

To preface, this evening was the last art show of the school year.  It's kind of the pinnacle for the art programs in our district.  High school students "compete" for college scholarships.  It's the cream of the crop, the best of the best, pick of the litter, creme de la creme, etc., etc.. It's a k-12 show in a real gallery, with actual frames and mats and wire on the back.  Teachers bring the finest art their students have created during the school year, so needless to say, for an art teacher, it's a great show.  (side note: one of my 8th graders had a conversation with one of the college recruiters admiring her piece and was given some tips about creating a digital portfolio and how to prepare for art school--she was beaming.  I was so proud of her :)

I was completely impressed with many of the high-schoolers art. Some amazing talent! I was inspired... and convicted.  By the time I walked out the door, I was emotionally pounding myself done to the ground. I love art.  I love to be around art.  I love to make art.  I almost never make art. Why don't I make more art?  Why is there this thing that I love to do, that I get completely lost in, this thing that makes me oblivious to the constructs of time and space, this thing that I almost never do?  I spend my weekdays devising and facilitating ways for large groups of kids to make art, and yet, when I get home I don't follow suit.

Doesn't it make logical sense that a person would do what they love to do?  What is wrong with me?  Through talking with G I think I've come to the sorry truth that I've been lazy.  I've honestly, though subconsciously, been waiting for the inspiration lightning bolt to strike.  I've thought what place do I have making uninspired art?  There's enough bad art in the world, I don't want to contribute to the stock pile of tasteless, tacky, kitsch in the world.  Therefore, if there's no bolt, there's no art.  Saying it out loud, and typing it in black and white, I see how lazy and presumptuous it is to think that way.  

I know there are people (hi Brooke G. ;) who self-admittedly don't "get" art. There are a lot of people that don't understand what the big deal is.  You're wondering why I'm making such a fuss and writing such a seemingly endless post.  Some of you understand where I'm coming from and (hopefully) have been here (and will offer some wise words).  What is the deal with wanting to do something, and not doing it day after day?  What's the solution?  Here is where you left-brainers are rolling your eyes, thinking, "Just do that thing.  How hard is that? What's the problem?" I don't know. Your wise words would probably prove helpful, too, so lay 'em on me.  Please.   

Right-brainers: How do you break through creative blocks?

     How do you motivate yourself to work?

Left-brainers: How are you so productive?

  How do you avoid procrastination? 

Any of your thoughts would be greatly appreciated.  I genuinely look forward to what any and all of you have to say. 

take that, cancer!

Congratulations to my father-in-law, Ken!  On Christmas Eve we were shocked and alarmed (to say the least) to find out that Ken had a tennis ball sized tumor in his abdomen.  He just got the results back from his most recent PET scan and found that he is now CANCER FREE!  It's amazing how much has happened since Christmas Eve--diagnosis, chemo, cured. As a result of the chemo, Ken began losing hair and Janae finally shaved his head.  Subsequently he received dozens and dozens of hats from friends all over the country.  We are so relieved and excited for you, Ken.  Not everyone can have cancer, go bald--and look great, keep jogging regularly, go skiing, and keep laughing ("tumor humor" as coined by Tim).  We love you! Thank GOD!

One more thing.  Gabe has been writing and editing on a website created by/along with his good friend, Bob and some other creative people.  The website is  www.rednow.com  ("wonder" spelled backward.) Check it out, it's got a variety of stuff.  For those of you that don't know, Gabe is a writer, currently in grad school pursuing his MFA in creative writing.  I don't wanna brag (which, clearly I do) but he might be the best writer of our time.  

mani

I don't know if this picture will accurately convey the sorry state of my hands since returning to school/work, but I gave it a shot.  Yesterday was the first day back after Spring Break and I wasn't exactly excited to get up in the morning.  Despite that, I had a really good day.  (Today was really nice, too.) But back to my hands. I remember getting a French manicure before my wedding.  I LOVED looking at my nails for the next couple of weeks--but I never got used to having pretty nails.  For my entire adult life I've either been a florist, art student, art teacher or some combination.  None of these endeavors allow for girly nails.  My hands are always dry from being washed/soaking wet so much, cracked from being so dry, stained from paint (or in this case, printmaking ink from the 7th grade projects).  The picture looks like I have dirt under my nails, but really they're stained and that's as clean as they'll get---this week, anyway.

As much as I loved having manicured nails, I also recognize that I'm not good at having manicured nails.  I don't like being so aware of NOT messing up my fingernails, it's kind of a hassel. So while there are days I'm ashamed to hand people money at the grocery store, truth be told, most days I prefer stumpy, stained nails to pretty, manicured nails.  

I've given you all some pretty significant things to mull over.  I'll leave you to your thoughts now, I know this is a lot to chew on.  

pet peeves

Last night G and I watched August Rush.  In a word: heartwarming.  Today we watched I Am Legend.  In a word: INTENSE. Not one I'm going to recommend to you, Mom. A good movie, don't get me wrong, but holy cow people! Lil' tense throughout the whole thing.  

I love to watch movies.  I also know people that say they like movies, but honestly can't sit still long enough to watch the whole thing.  This might be a pet peeve of mine.  When someone keeps "multi-tasking" or getting up and down for "just a second"...It makes me physically uncomfortable because I can see what they're missing and they could not possibly care any less than they already do!  I don't know why it's so important for the people I'm with to also be paying close attention.  Why should I care if they missed a subtle foreshadowing, or a quick comedic moment?  I shouldn't, but for whatever reason, I can't not be bothered by it.  Luckily Gabe is a very good movie-watching partner.  

Pet peeves are kind of funny--so is the term.  I wonder where they come from.  Got any quirky pet peeves?

boulder pics

This picture of an old motel is from the end of our outing, once back in Denver.  To the left of the partial word "AFFORDA" it says "Heaven on Earth Inn."  Not so much...

Here are some shots from our day in Boulder:

Gabe burns easily, so he was sure to cover up beforehand.




Me in a (not very) scary cave.

The weather was PERFECT for hiking, not too hot, not too cold.  We saw 8 deer. We saw a bazillion crazy people riding their bikes UP the mountain (typical Boulder behavior).  No bears. No mountain lions.  Saw one pair of boxers (?).  Also saw a pair of abandoned climbing shoes. Lots of pretty views.  Now Gabe is asleep :)

spring break, day 7: french toast and hiking

Gabe woke up this morning and informed me he was going to make French Toast.  I didn't know he could do that.  It smells good from where I sit right now, so my hopes are high.  I told him I didn't know he could make fr.toast and he replied, "It's not exactly that difficult."  Oh. I've never made fr.toast.

Yesterday I got a surprise call from Lexi (good friend, former matron of honor, BUSY mom of two that I hardly ever get to see).  We went to lunch and caught up for a few hours.  I love those friendships that don't require constant contact (thank goodness) in order to fall right back into a familiar place. We solved a few of the world's problems. It was a great way to spend the middle of my day.  

At three I got to go to the good 'ol "lady doctor"---not as enjoyable.  Always so awkward trying to make small talk during those check-ups.

Once I got home it wasn't long before Keri stopped over to pick up a scarf I borrowed...a while ago.  We solved some more of the world's problems and then went about our days.

I've just finished my French Toast and turkey bacon---which were both great.  Now Gabe is mocking many of the things being said on the Today Show.  It really is aimed at women more often.  I don't notice that much unless Gabe happens to be watching too. 

We're off to hike outside Boulder today.  So enjoy your Friday everybody.  I'm trying to make the last couple days of Spring Break SLOW DOWN. 

lil' miss amelie: all smiles

As promised, here are some pictures of the smiliest little one year old I've ever met, Miss Amelie.  Getting a good picture proved difficult because as soon as Amelie sees the camera, she attempts to grab it and look at the picture on the screen.  So I got a lot of blurred pictures of Amelie's hand.  Amelie was a delight to be around as we shopped at Meinenger's for my printmaking shtuff, at Jerusalem Restaurant waiting for our falafal and such, eating lunch at home and playing the afternoon away.  Amy got a few of Amelie and I, which I'll add to the blog when she emails them to me.  Amy's camera is FAR nicer than mine, so they'll be much better I imagine.  Amelie lived up to her reputation, flashing grins at us all day. 

A rare non-smile moment. She walked around Meinenger's with my (empty) purse around her neck like a feed-bag.  It was pretty cute.


The funniest part of the day was when Amy's two dogs were in the backyard barking and Amelie, taking a cue from the dogs, ran to the door and began barking herself. Amy suspects that Amelie thinks she's part of the dogs' pack sometimes.  They're about the same height, I could see it making sense if you're one year old.

I'M PREGNANT!!!

April Fools. :)

spring break '08, day 4: PRINTMAKING

Yesterday I bought minimal supplies for some printmaking. Today I attempted to learn how to use these supplies.  I'm not sure if what I did would be classified as monoprints or monotypes.  As I understand it, there is a distinction between the two, though I don't yet know what it is.  A real printmaker would know.  Wikipedia will know, and therefore I will know soon, too.

I didn't plan out any great designs beforehand, but just kind of went for it.  I was impatient and anxious to experiment.  It was fun, I knew I'd like it.  I thought it was possible that I would just pick it up like it was nobody's business, unfortunately I didn't.  But I definitely like it enough so far to keep practicing, and *hopefully* improving.