Read all about it! I’ve been featured on the Block 7 Wine Company blog. Sweet.

Lost for the right words, I am thinking,
but thoughts disappear, or are shrinking;
ever smaller they grow
’til, as you’ll soon know
not one small synapse starts it’s linking.

So therefore, my mind is a puddle
of nonsense, I am quite befuddled.
I can’t seem to think,
my eyes they just blink…
but onward I go, now to muddle.

Muddle through old cardboard boxes,
searching the mess is a shocks-es.
What might I find there?
I had better beware;
there might be a box full of rocks-es.

Or socks-es without the right mate,
just please please contain all the hate,
for with boxes to rhyme
I ran out of time
and thus, sealed my fate, second-rate.

Is it clear that the boxes discussed
in the musty old attic of rust
is akin to my brain
on the border of sane
or at least full of chaos and dust?

Now back to the ole misty fog
that my brain, that ole addled nog,
is trying it’s bestest
to have small successes
and write for the readers of blog.

To search all day long, it could happen,
for thinking and thoughts overlappin’
are infrequent it seems
not one thought to scream
about which I could start a rappin’.

And so, gentle reader, adieu;
not one thought from this head came unglued.
Pure nonsense it’s been
from the start to the end,
forgive if you think that’s just rude.

NEVER NEVER NEVER shop at Jerry’s Artarama. Not only is the quality of the product inferior, the customer service is LOUSY!

With great anticipation, I ordered some linen canvases online. As I’ve mentioned several times throughout the course of this blog, professional quality art supplies are expensive. When a friend forwarded an e-mail touting great deals through Jerry’s Artarama online store, I was happy to jump on board. Imagine my complete dismay when the package arrived, and the quality of the canvases was grossly sub-par. Within moments, I sent an e-mail trying to find an amicable solution to a big problem.

Days later and still no response from the e-mail, I called the 8oo number. I waited 37 minutes to speak with someone, who, in the end, basically told me to go #@** myself. The one small concession was that we could return the product at our local store and get a full refund. Houston is a big town. The local store is a 45 minute drive — one way. But, hoping for resolution, Reese and I went. Turns out, local stores have nothing whatsoever to do with the online part of the business. They didn’t even carry the same product line. The person on the other end of the 800 # call knew full well, and sent us on a wild goose chase anyway. The local store told me I was screwed, but must have done something on my behalf. Because, a week later I actually got a call from someone at the company…not saying, “Oh, we’re so sorry. What can we do to help?” Instead, they said, “Prove it.”

Then, they said, “We’re bigger and more important than you. You are a tiny insignificant speck. We don’t have to do anything to make this right. You’re up *%#@ creek without a paddle. HAHAHAHA!”

So again, NEVER purchase anything from Jerry’s Artarama. They are very bad people.

Last summer, Reese and I were an extra pair of hands on a senior high mission trip to Guadalajara. Walking through El Centro one afternoon, we saw this woman sitting on the steps of a cathedral. When I saw her, I saw a painting, exactly like when I first saw the woman in Jamaica.

For various reasons, though, life happens, and painting doesn’t. It seems like ages since I picked up a paintbrush. How do I begin? Do I really know how to do this???? Do I have a clue? What happens if I pick up a paintbrush and it’s all been a fluke?

So, with a small leap of faith, I squeeze out the paints. I take out the palette knife and start mixing colors. Then, just one stroke is applied to the canvas, and another, and another. Soon, the process overwhelms, and it’s been hours. To be honest, I’ve been working on this particular painting in my head for almost a year. But, now, look! It is a painting! The woman and child look like what they are supposed to look like! It is the beginning of what I’ve envisioned for all these long months….

Reese comes home and cheers. Realizing how much of my soul has been invested in this painting, I start to cry. What a blessing….I’m so grateful that I can be a part of this. Amen and amen.

When I walked in to Southland Hardware with the 30 pound Still Life with Ukulele # 1 in order to engineer the best way to affix it to a wall, it was almost as if I was a rock star. Employees and customers alike seemed fascinated with the piece and kept gazing adoringly back and forth between me and the art work and asking thoughtful questions. Understand, it’s a heavy piece. Of course, I was flattered by the attention. But lugging it from one end of the hardware store to the other trying to find just the right eye hooks, chains, and bolts to make it work was laborious to say the least. Getting stopped every few paces…well, it was nice to have an excuse to rest. Finally, one of my (alleged) new fans asked if he could please help carry it? Gladly, I agreed with much rejoicing. (yea)

As of yesterday, the series is officially finished. All three pieces will be dropped off at Block 7 within the next week. Reese literally helped with the nuts and bolts on #1 and #2, and I re-worked my bio and resume. It’s great to be finished with the whole project, and great to have an updated resume.

Below is a copy of what was sent to the wine bar to use in their publicity or whatever, if they end up using any of my pieces. They’ve already stipulated that they reserve the right to not display all works. The bio is something re-worked from a previous Houston art thing, hence the abundant references to Houston. (It always feels a little strange doing a bio. It’s weird and a discomfiting to, for lack of a better word, brag.)

Painted a wine related still life series in conjunction with the opening of Block 7 Wine Company. All three works were painted in oils on three very different surfaces re-purposed from the former warehouse.

The series includes:

1) Still Life with Ukulele # 1

20″ x 24 3/4″ x 4 5/8″ oil on marble tiles magnetically mounted on metal drawers — 30 lbs.

2) Still Life with Ukulele # 2

22 1/4″ x 24″ oil on corrugated metal

3) Still Life with Ukulele # 3

20 1/2″ x 23″ oil on canvas from discarded army cot stretched over a frame also made from the cot

All materials were salvaged from the warehouse except for the paints, magnets, chains and bolts.

All pieces are complete and ready to hang.

Bio

Having had no previous experience or training, the artist started painting in late 2004. A relative encouraged the new artist to display her first 30 works on Texas Independence Day in the Pioneer Log House Memorial Museum. However, it wasn’t until November, 2006, that she started pursuing the making of art as a career. To that end, she has exhibited in several venues in Houston, including the Glassell Student Exhibit in the spring of 2007. She was asked to be a community artist juror for Yes Prep’s Student Art Show, and has repeatedly been asked to be a select artist for the Center for Hearing and Speech’s fundraiser, Via Colori. She spent her formative years in Mississippi, but attended high school and college in Hawaii. She met and married her husband in Aspen, Colorado, and they briefly lived in southern California before moving back to her husband’s hometown of Houston. She and her family, which includes four daughters, have lived in Houston for 24 years in the East End, the Third Ward, and most recently the Rice U/Med Center area.

Though very passionate about painting, the artist is an equally passionate writer, and blogs regularly about the artistic process. Her blog can be accessed through http://sarahhazel.blogspot.com

Apparently, that’s how old I am today; 16633 days old. How many of these days have been used wisely? When the kids were little, every day seemed like I was making deposits into some sort of eternal account book. Even wiping a snotty nose seemed important and significant. But, a few days ago, my youngest daughter graduated from high school. Honestly, never in a million years would I have thought that I would be one of those moms who seemed stunned when the mom gig was up. But here I am. Feeling a little lost. and sad.

It’s not like I have nothing to do. There’s plenty to do. Good grief, there are 21 empty canvases in the studio waiting for something to happen. That’s an eye opener….hadn’t counted them until just now.

Last week I finished the back yard patio. While it’s great to finally be done, it didn’t make my innards do cartwheels like usual…that strong sense of accomplishment just wasn’t there.

We live in this old house, and there are lots of handyman type projects always screaming for someone to pay attention to them. It’s not like I’m not capable of doing the work; just lately, the screaming house has been ignored.

Speaking of screaming house, Hilary and Joy have almost convinced themselves that our house is haunted. For a while now, the TV has been turning on by itself. My explanation is that one of the neighbors has a universal remote. When whichever neighbor turns on their TV, it sometimes somehow reaches our TV as well….but Hilary and Joy aren’t so sure. And then there’s the possibility that this unidentified neighbor has figured out that their remote works on our TV, and is just messing with us, which, incidentally, is a very plausible theory. Once, while visiting my parents, who at the time lived in a cookie cutter house suburban area of Orlando, we just so happened to discover that my parents garage door opener also worked on two other neighbors’ garage doors. Instead of a drive by shutting, we pulled out the big gun (garage door remote) for a drive by opening! Also, Hilary and Reese are convinced that they heard the ukulele playing itself a few weeks ago. My theory on that one is because I have been playing so much, a tune got stuck in their brains and was trying to sweeten their dreams…both of them…dreaming the same dream at the same time. (Cue Twilight Zone music) It could happen. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, I hear the stairs creak. I’ll get up to see who went downstairs, but everyone is tucked all snug in their beds. My theory is that the house is adjusting it’s belt loop after a long day of holding it’s breath. Night is the time to put on elastic after sucking in the gut all day…and then breathing a deep creaky sigh of relief. The house, I’m talking about the house.

Back to the beginning, Reese and I knew going in that this parenting gig had a built in time frame. We’ve transitioned fairly well with the older three. (Right, daughters?) And I thought that I was prepared for the same healthy transition with Joy. But, when I went to James Avery to buy the last high school graduation gift, I realized that I was buying the last high school graduation gift. It’s kind of a big deal. In this crazy life, I’ll still have plenty to do now that we’ve all reached this milestone, but what am I going to do?

Imagine, pick-your-price MFAH memberships, for any amount starting at $10. For one day only and four hours only, last Saturday, the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston offered Houstonians a chance to set our own price for a year long museum membership! Brilliant marketing. This is the epitome of a win win…the museum spreads goodwill to the community, the museum has a new list for continuing patronage, the new member is delighted to afford the opportunity, and voila! Everyone’s happy.

Hundreds of Houstonians showed up to take advantage of the offer. First of all, we waited in this line. What isn’t obviously apparent in this photo is that this line of people is a giant U, and this was just the outside line. At least it was a pleasant day with a line full of pleasant people.

Even though Houston is the fourth largest city in the United States, it never ceases to amaze me how small it is. While waiting in line, I ran into several friends, including these two sweeties. Sol, on the right, is my friend who forwarded an e-mail telling about, in her words, a *wowser of a deal* from the MFAH.

Finally, after 45 minutes or so, we made it to the inside line. It may seem silly to some, that all these years of living here, and loving the museum, that we’ve never become members. When it came right down to it, because the museum offers free admission on Thursdays, I couldn’t seem to justify the added expense of membership to our already stretched family budget. But now…a year’s worth of complete freedom to attend the museum any day of the week; a whole year at the museum; an entire 365 days (excluding Mondays and holidays, of course)…I can’t begin to describe how thrilled I am. It was totally worth the wait (in line.) Even sweet, recent-high-school-graduate-daughter Joy, when she heard about our family membership, said, “tight,” which, for a teenager, is a good thing.

My little brother Stephen surprised us last weekend with a delightful impromptu visit. We picked him up from the airport at 8 on Saturday night, and had him back by 10 the next morning. In those 14 hours, we went to a birthday party, met some neighbors, saw Joy working at The Chocolate Bar, watched frogs swim in the garden pond, stayed up late visiting, got up early to see Reese’s bees wake up, met some more neighbors, took silly photos, and still made it to the airport on time. It was totally worth every moment.

The Amazing Reese’s and my daughter Hilary is temporarily an employee of the national government. She and her favorite manfriend, James, applied for and got jobs working at Canyon Lodge in Yellowstone National Park for the summer. James has decided to blog about their adventures (or misadventures) at Yogi’s Place.

Hilary from Texas says,

“I mostly know people as their first name followed by ‘from [insert home-state here].’ This is because our name tags have our first names on top, and our state (or country) of origin on the bottom.

On our hike down to the canyon, which is super beautiful, I saw an Osprey nest with a mama bird in it. It was really hard to see, but there was a man there with a camera that had, like, super zoom lens or something and he let me look through it. The Canyon is unreal! Not literally, but it totally looks like it is a painted cover of a fantasy novel, or where the elves live.”

Also, brother in law Bill has decided to chronicle his battle with recently diagnosed non-Hodgkin lymphoma. Read all about it on Bill’s Blog. Bill is Reese’s little sister Catherine’s husband.

It’s actually a little nerve wracking to start painting again after so long an absence. I’m hesitant to begin, and delicately apply the outline of a shape, an idea. Where do I go from here?

It doesn’t help my fragile psyche that I just found another dead fish in the backyard pond. That’s three dead fish in two weeks. Ugh. Rightfully so, I feel personally and morally responsible for these fish. How pathetic that I can’t seem to find the right balance between plants, fish, and fountain to create a self contained water ecosystem. It’s not rocket science.

Plus, at this moment, I’m hesitant to venture out in public for fear of catching something while my immune system is compromised. Again, how pathetic. The last two weeks before this one, I did the grocery shopping and ran a few errands. And the last two Fridays and Saturdays, I ran a fever. This week, except for tiny little things, I’ve been completely home bound, hoping hoping hoping that my immune system will recover. For the record, I hate being a recluse.

One of my friends sent me this in an e-mail:

I remember learning that after being ill one’s energy levels can be compared to a gas tank in a car without a gas gauge. You get up in the morning thinking your tank is full and go full bore into something feeling pretty good and then all of the sudden you go around a corner and find you are flat on empty. No warning whatsoever. It was weird.

That’s exactly how I feel, like I have a gas gauge that doesn’t work.

On the brighter side of things, with all this down time, I’m constantly adding to my ukulele song repertoire. Some day, I’d like to try busking on a street corner. Put a hat out, strum the ukulele, sing a little, and see if I can earn enough money for supper. To this end, I can now play the chords to (and sing mumble) Freebird. Doesn’t someone in the crowd always shout out, “Freebird!”? A small disclaimer, my ukulele version of Freebird, so far, is without the awesome three minute solo riff at the end of the song.

If B.B. King can name his guitar Lucille, then certainly this little bitty instrument deserves a name.

It’s not exactly a contest, but if anyone has a name on the tip of their tongue that would be appropriate for an ukulele, by all means, please, let me know.