It was great having our daughters here for Christmas.

In left to right order: Anna, Joy, Hilary, and Erin.

While Francois and I were painting together earlier this week, I painted over part of my painting to improve it.

Francois got excited and said,

“Oh, you are repenting.”

“Huh?”

In french, the word to take something out of a painting, or to cover over what has already been painted in order to improve said painting, is the same word that one would use when confessing ones sins. Repent. And it means the same thing…to cover over, to turn from, or make a change for the better because of remorse.

Repenting is a useful habit, in painting and in life.

There are more than two
of this I am sure,
their goal is to poo
outside our front door.

Bird poo is a nuisance
of that there’s no doubt;
when stepped on with shoes
it gets tracked in the house.

I sweep with a vengeance
or use the leaf blower,
but they laugh at my dance
and the poo seems to grow…er,

(I had a hard time
with that last little bit
coming up with a rhyme
about all the bird sh…)

My patience is waning
as I look in the branches;
birds keeps on raining
bird poo every chances.

I’m dreaming of sling shots,
and arrows and bow,
of B B’s, and pellets,
to make the birds go.

Maybe borrow a cat,
or a big grizzly bear;
Would birds scare of that,
or still poo without care?

Some poisoned bird seed……
No, nothing so drastic,
but life bird poo free
does seem rather fantastic.

Out, out of that tree!
the birds hear me say,
Please, please leave us be.
Be gone! Go away!

One of my favorite things about life in the Hazel household has been our family supper time. Until very recently, we would all gather at the table for a meal at 6:30 every night. But with Erin and Anna grown, and Reese working late, and Hilary and Joy babysitting so much, we just haven’t had nearly as many meals together.

It’s not the food, though something inexplicable happens when people eat together….comraderie? I don’t know. Maybe. But what happens at our table is that each person at the table talks about their favorite thing of the day. Two things happen. One, everyone at the table contributes to the conversation. And two, everyone at the table listens to one another. Because we discuss favorite things, the family time remains positive.

Since no one is home tonight, what was your favorite thing of the day?

Mine was painting with Francios, my french teacher neighbor friend. We agreed today that I would give her a painting lesson while we studied french. The time flew, and before she was finished it was time for Francios to pick up her children from school. Hopefully she will have time to come back on Monday to finish her painting. Now, *if I can just keep the flowers alive….*

Does 22 seem like a lot or a little? Old or young? Because I’ve only completed 22 paintings this calendar year, and it doesn’t seem like very many to me. And my oldest daughter is 22; I am twice her age (as of last week) and that doesn’t seem so old to me, either.

Tomorrow night is the *holiday art sale* opening at Bering and James Gallery. My “Landscape” (catchy title, I know) will be offered for $300. Part of the proceeds from the sale will be donated to DePelchin Children’s Center, part go to Bering and James, and part go to me. This is a very typical breakdown of where the money goes when someone buys a painting. Add in the cost of supplies, time, and effort at marketing, and the term “starving artist” comes to mind.

Thank God for Reese. He encourages the best in me, he provides for our family, and he delights in me pursuing artistic endeavors. He is content with this year’s 22 paintings, and with me being 44. And he absolutely loves having a 22 year old daughter….and a 20 year old, and an 18 year old, and a 16 year old……

The house was full last week; full of warmth, loving family, dear friends, good smells, tasty food, flowing wine, continuous laughter, mutual acceptance, and excessive clutter.

For the last ten (?) years, we have celebrated Thanksgiving with our Australian neighbor friends. Between the two of us, Jennine and I have finally perfected the Thanksgiving dinner…for our families. It was great.

After the hubbub of the Thanksgiving holidays died down, I called my mom to see how things were in Mississippi. We were talking about this and that, nothing of life changing importance when she asked,

“Do you really like painting?”

To which I replied, “I love painting.”

She then said something about deadlines and the business of art, to which I insisted that I thrive on goals and deadlines. Don’t even think about asking me to focus on details, but to have a short term goal, or a long range plan, and it’s like having a jolt of electricity coursing through my veins….in a good way.

That’s why it was a bit of a personal disappointment the other week when I had written down the wrong deadline for something, which was completely my fault. Thinking that I had until the end of the month to put the final touches on a few paintings….and not being able to before the November 15th deadline (not November 30th) threw me off a little.

Ah, well. Can’t get too hung up on disappointment. There’s another deadline approaching. Or maybe it’s a lifeline.

This is as good as it gets. Reese took this photo with my cell phone about 15 minutes before sprinkling rain stopped our work. My friend Cynthia had come to help me paint my square for Via Colori, but even with her assistance we were no match for Mother Nature. All three of us struggled in the wind and rain to tape a large plastic drop cloth over the big square. Then we sat on a drizzly curb and waited. There was one point when Cynthia and I thought that the rain had cleared enough to start drawing again. We peeled back part of the plastic and started working on the door in the painting. But there was not a chance that the weather was going to clear. Not even a 50 percent chance.

The deluge lasted all night and throughout the morning, and even so, I honestly thought that today I would get to finish the work. So after church Reese and I went downtown, hopeful…hopeful that the plastic and taped down edges had kept all the rain off the image, hopeful that we could redeem the time and still finish the painting, hopeful that the show would go on…

What we saw when we got there was a big splot of colorful mud. The pastels used for drawing on the street make a lovely pasty glob when wet.

It was sad.

The deadline was supposed to be on November 30th. Or so I thought. November 30th is what I wrote down when I was organizing my time frame list because my brain gets all muddled with details. So I make lists. Most of the paintings I had planned on completing by November 30th weren’t even begun, much less finished…because the deadline is really November 15th. Tomorrow.

In spite of the “new” deadline, Reese and I have worked efficiently together. He takes photos of the paintings, preps the photos for the website, and whatever else needs doing. He does a lot. I just paint. We were on track to complete as much of everything that we could by the looming November 15th deadline. Then the cd burner didn’t/wouldn’t work. Busted. (The cd burner thingy is essential to completing this particular project.) After chatting online with a computer guru for an hour trying to fix the issue, we found out that it will take 2-3 business days for them to mail the software and replacement part before the problem could even begin to be solved.

The deadline is tomorrow.

On the plus side, we uploaded six new paintings to the website.

While painting today
the canvas fell on my head
my hair turned orange

Sometimes it happens
I start thinking in haiku
I can’t help myself

Last night I partied
at Art on the Avenue
I bid on some wine

Twenty one bottles
the highest bidder was me
all for a good cause

Dress code: warehouse chic
laughing, talking, and laughing
meeting new people

This Saturday night
you can come bid on some art
all for a good cause

If you buy my art
it will help pay for the wine
all for a good cause

Wine out the wazoo
drop in sometime for a drink
or maybe to laugh

P.S. I don’t know (?)
blog comments aren’t working right
trying to fix it

A friend of ours has a house, well not so much a house, but part of a building downtown in Palacios. He invited some friends down last Saturday just for fun. Preparing for the long car ride, I brought the french tapes and one of my art books on Cezanne. We got home rather late, and totally against my character, I left the tapes and book in the car instead of bringing them inside.

Sunday morning was harried, even though we all had an extra hour to get ready for church. Someone had forgotten to charge the moped battery, so Hilary couldn’t remotely get to St. Paul’s where she sings in the choir. As a non-morning person, I knew just how the moped felt. Empty. But that wasn’t going to help Hilary get to St. Paul’s.

Skipping a few essentials, such as using the restroom before leaving home because I could just as easily go once we got to church, Hilary, Joy, and I made our way to St. Paul’s to drop off Hilary. Exacerbated by our drive to Palacios the day before, the gas gage was on empty. No worries, I thought. I can make it.

As we were driving west on Bissonet, Joy and I noticed a black cloud of smoke in the distance. It seemed surprisingly odd, especially since the closer we got to church the more the smoke seemed to be right where we were headed. Approaching the railroad tracks, the West University cops had the way blocked, and motioned for us to go left/south. Church was north/right, so I turned right, just as the last drop of gas was being consumed by the suburban. Empty. Guess what else? While talking to AAA on my cell phone, the battery started beeping like it was running out of juice, too. Then the tow truck driver couldn’t get to me because the roads were blocked because of that smokey fire Joy and I had seen in the distance. To top it all off, I really had to go to the bathroom.

Joy, bless her heart, started walking to church, stopping at Shipley Donuts on the way. But I stayed with the car. And because I hadn’t cleaned out the car from our trip to Palacios the day before, I had the french tapes to listen to, and a book on Cezanne to read, which was a huge huge blessing.

If Reese and I hadn’t gone to Palacios the day before, and I hadn’t been so exhausted when we got home, the book and tapes would have never been in the car in the first place.