My haphazard attempt at Wanda's current art challenge. Link here.
Below I was just doodling around. I ran out of paper, too. Couldn't get those adorable little feet.
I had to force myself to do even this small amount. I could list out some excuses, but I won't. I think I might also be experiencing some blogging burnout. It will pass.
A week or so ago I mentioned my daughter and two grandsons moved in with a friend. Well, that didn't last long... about a week and a half. I can't say it was a surprise, but I was thinking it might last for a month or two. It didn't have a chance. Not given the personalities involved.
Its as though they were never gone..... (whimper)
And aren't I just too lucky for words. I get to continue an apparently life-long bonding session with the boys. What gramma wouldn't want that? Seriously.... what gramma would want it! I mean't wouldn't want it.
They bring so much to my life. Cartoons, endless mindless cartoons. Little boy farts followed by giggles and more farting until it turns into a little accident in one of their pants. (Now that was funny! The look of shock on his face was priceless, especially since I'm not the mother.) I get to look forward to possible head lice, possibly some scabies, but for sure there will be lots and lots of colds throughout the year. I could go on.... but I won't. Lucky you!
But for now I have to go wipe down the kitchen garbage can. Apparently no one has a decent aim when tossing things into the can.
Jack sat in the chair with his head down, his arms leaning on his lap, fists clenched. He darted a glance over at the timer. The white sand slowly dripped from the top chamber to the bottom.
Oh gawd, its taking so long. People just don’t get how long a small amount of time can sometimes take.
He closed his eyes and tried to think of happier times. Summers. Blue skies. Skinned knees. Sunburns. No, no. Winters. Snowmen. Tube slides. Frostbitten fingers. Sinus infections. Oh gawd.
Another glance at the timer brought a loud sigh.
That’s it! Breath deeply. How long can this torture last?
It already felt as though he had been sitting in the corner for decades, even if it would not take longer than three minutes, tops.
Jack looked again at the timer. He felt so edgy. Half the sand remained in the top chamber. He wasn’t sure if he was going to make it through this “consequence” without going stark raving mad. He could see it now. He would go screaming out of the front door, naked except for his boxers, arms flailing wildly, jibber jabber coming from his mouth. Maybe he would be able to work up some foam, too.
Jack played with the daydream so long that his time was up when he next looked.
“Hey mom… My times up, okay” he called to the next room.
Jack’s mom looked out from the kitchen door. “And now what are you going to do?” she asked sternly.
Jack hated pop quizzes. “I’m going to… go pick up my clothes and put them in the hamper” he asked.
“Oh Jack. You’re 32 years old for crap sake. When ARE you going to grow up?!!!”
My five year old grandson finally got to start kindergarten. His mom sent me this picture from her phone. They have a "uniform", however it looks more like a dress code, but I'm just splitting hairs. I think Vyron is going to love school..... until he gets bored. He's got a good mind, so far.
Mom says he loved his first day. It was all he could talk about.
I mentioned in an earlier post that my daughter and boys moved in with a friend. I'm already hearing "but" comments, so the move isn't a firm one yet. I suspect my solitude may be short-lived, so I shall relish it as much as I can... much like waiting for the hatchet to fall.
Apparently my daughter worked very hard cleaning the whole house (except bedrooms) and it was back to dirty in a heartbeat. Hers. Karma came to mind, but I kept the word quiet. The timing wasn't right to be accepted as constructive criticism. Snort.
So it may not work out. Wow. Who could have seen that coming. (should you be wondering, that is dripping with sarcasm.)
And speaking of empty intentions, for the last three days I have held a sincere intention to get a cat drawing done for Wanda's Art Challenge. Sigh. I have the paper, the utensils right at hand, but alas.... no mark has been made yet.
I've heard/read so many people say things like "I was born with a paint brush in my hand" or "If I don't create something every day I will just shrivel!" Well, not me. Not to worry with that one. Sigh. I still hold my intentions... perhaps later this evening.
Sandy had posted a couple of photos of a parrot. You can check the photos out here.
I took the easy way out and eliminated the claw.
On a different subject.... I'm getting my space back. My daughter informed me today that her and the boys are officially moving in with a friend. Be still my heart. I am completely giddy, although I'm holding it in well. No cartwheels or jumping about... but I have started cleaning already. You know, because it may stay clean for a day or two. Especially the toilet bowl!! TMI? Oh well... its the small things that brighten one's life.
"Happy days are here again.... The sky above is clear again... "
Every so often I check out rental opportunities as found on Craigslist. I want to see what the going rate is for apartments or houses. (A lot of the scams are easy to spot... an $800,000 house available to rent for $700 a month.) I also look at the pictures of apts/houses to see what $2,000 or $5,000 a month will buy. ("They want WHAT for that?!")
I happened to check one and saw this picture below. I can rent this house for $750 a month (or close to this amount)... if I want to move to another city.
Did you notice anything interesting about the house? Like, oh I don't know, maybe the amount of space between the ground and the house (right side of photo). Good luck renting this house. I'm guessing you'll need it.
Teacher Sarah sat at her desk looking at the apple. It had seen better days. No telling where it’s been on its journey to her.
Soon the noise of the boisterous children brought her attention back to the task at hand. Teaching.
She gently tapped her ruler on the wooden desk to get their attention.
“Children… quiet now.”
It took a while for everyone to settle down. As she patiently waited, Sarah looked around at each student to see if she could find a hint or clue as to who left the apple. In the far back corner sat little Donny Brown, his head down as though that would make him invisible. The Brown family struggled the hardest in this small farm community. She knew that giving up an apple, even one that was nicked and bruised and half eaten, was a far greater gift than the most perfect apple given by another.
The room became quiet.
Sarah stared at the back wall as she tried to figure out whether or not to publicly acknowledge her gift. She decided against it.
“Students… I’m having a hankerin’ for some apple pie. If we can get through this afternoon’s lessons without too many distractions, I will bake one tonight and bring it in tomorrow so we can all have some.”
No sense in wasting an opportunity to bribe for compliance, she thought to herself. I’ll need more apples.
The children cheered. Folks didn’t do a lot of baking since ingredients were so precious. This would, indeed, be a treat. Teacher Sarah smiled at her students as they murmured among themselves. And when she finally caught the eye of little Donny Brown she gave him a quick wink.
Check out the other entries in this week's Magpie Tales challenge here.
Do your feelings get hurt when a blog you've been following for years suddenly goes private? I'm talking about a stranger's blog. Someone you have not and will never meet or anything close to meeting.
I have an instantanous reaction that lasts maybe a nano second... I'VE BEEN (GASP) REJECTED! Then I get a grip and remember its not real. (oh, just to be sure you have an accurate picture... I don't even comment on these blogs. I just follow them because they're interesting.)
On a cranky day, if someone writes that they are taking an extended break from blogging and are not sure they will return, I'll delete the link from my favorites list with a huff. "Fine then.... go take break, but don't worry about coming back for me. You're deleted!!" All the while I know that I can do a google search and no doubt find the link again. You know, if I want to find it.
These childish reactions always surprise me a little when they jump out of the closet at me, but I recover so much faster than I did in my youth. And there's not a permanent scar or anything.
Need I mention I just visited a blog that is suddenly private? No matter that its been three weeks since my last visit. Huff!
A different pose of the cooper hawk that is part of Wanda's art challenge. The second drawing is a duplicate of the first but in a "soft focus" mode.(see post below for links.)
Cooper Hawk curtesy of Abe Lincoln's wonderful photography skills found here. Check out his other blogs, too. You will find Wanda's art challenge here. Join in... the more, the merrier. Or something.
I'm hanging things up (Wanda's Art Challenges) by being too damn slow so I'm posting a work-in-progress of the horse so others can move on to the next challenge. First, I apologize for the picture quality. I took the photo at 5:30am.... a few minutes ago. Its dark outside, as it is inside too, so the flash had to be used. That causes reflections, etc.
Second, I want to acknowledge how outstandingly brillant I am for selecting paper about the same color as the horse. You know, cause it makes the drawing stand out so well. I certainly hope I never do that again. (ever optomistic.)
Third, I don't really have a third.
I was close to throwing the towel in several times, but the drawing kept pulling me back into it. "Maybe the perspective can be fixed." "hmmmm.... I like how that spot right there turned out, maybe the rest will too." "Ohmygawd... neon turquoise?!? Really?"
If I get anything half way decent from this drawing, I'll post the final version. Otherwise, lets just move on, shall we?
Old man Brown’s body was withered and bent into a permanent question mark. His face, laced with wrinkles and punctuated with sagging jowls, was surprisingly serene as he stood on his back porch and looked out over his garden.
The garden had been his obsession for years. Everything had to be neat, orderly, and perfect in all respects. Visitors would often ask him if the garden was real or if he had taken a photograph and had it blown up to mural size. They usually thought it sounded humorous, but it wasn’t funny to old man Brown. He dominated his garden. He ruled it completely, that is until Effie died ten years ago.
She used to bitch about how much time and effort he put into his garden and how she felt some jealousy at times. Finally, however, she accepted his obsession and let him spend all the time he wanted in his garden. In fact, there were times when she would encourage him to “go garden, damn it” so she could have the house to herself. Some say she died from loneliness, but it wasn’t true. She died from boredom.
Brown stood there gazing out over the garden and smiled to himself. The garden looked completely different now. Most folks wouldn’t even call it a garden. To them it was just an overgrown backyard that desperately needed to be cut down.
Brown grabbed the handrail and carefully stepped down the few steps. Once on the ground floor, so to speak, he hobbled over to the lawn chair and lowered his fragile body down slowly. When settled he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He continued to sit there with his eyes closed as though waiting for the overgrown plants to envelope him.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Soon enough, my garden, soon enough. I’ll be joining you soon enough.
He sat there a while longer while the sun heated up the garden, then he called to the house.
“Hey sweetie! Bring me a beer, will ya?”
In a few moments out came a drop-dead gorgeous young beauty wearing shorts and a can of cold beer in her hands. She danced down the steps, sat the beer on the small table next to Brown, bent over and kissed him on the top of his head and then turned and bounced back into the house.
No need to start thinking dirty-old-man thoughts about Brown. He may have let his garden return to nature but he still needed his house cleaned.
Oh my gosh, what can I say? The poor baby looks like he got caught in a giant blender full of hair. Good thing its all about the process and the end result is secondary. That's my story. Its theraputic.
Here's the original challenge post over at Wanda's place. Check it out here.
If you have a few minutes you may find this validictorian speech refreshing; commentary on the state of our robotic educational system. It gave me a glimmer of hope for the nation's (and the world's)future.
I quit. This is done! Who would have thought a butterfly would have me climbing the walls! Certainly not me, but it happened. I have the scuff marks on the walls to prove it, too. However... I did manage to stop myself before scribbling all over the picture in frustration. That's new for me.
The other evening as I was engrossed at the pc I felt someone come up from behind me and stand there. I thought it was my grandson. Nothing was said, so after a few moments I turned to look and this is what I saw... . . . . . . . . . .
"EEEECCKKKKKK!"
I grabbed the rolled up newspaper thats always kept at hand for flies and started to bat this bug around its head and shoulders. Finally it turned and skittered out the door. Just as well. When they are that big, smashing them just creates a big mess.
Whew! Made the deadline with a day to spare. Check out Wanda's blog here... and the specific art challenge post here. (currently it takes you to the same post, but in a day or two the links will take you to different places, same blog.) Its easy. Its fun. Anyone is more than welcomed to join in whenever they feel like it.
She stood at the top of the stairs leading to the attic and looked at the bed. Was that where the dastardly deed was done? Of course it would have looked different so long ago. Probably all dark and dirty back then. The bastard.
If abortion had been legal back then, the rape would not have gone any further than the act itself. Now its evil seed continued through future generations.
You dirty stinking bastard. I’m glad you died a long and painful death. You deserved it.
She turned and went back down the narrow steps. In the kitchen she paused at the back door and took some matches out of her pocket. She struck one and it lit instantly. The woman looked at the match for a moment as if in prayer and then tossed it into a spill of liquid on the wooden floor. With a whoosh, flames flashed to life.
Emotionlessly, the woman stepped out, closed the back door and slowly walked down the steps to her waiting car.
“May you rot in hell.” This is a contribution to the weekly Magpie Tales challenge. Check out the site here. Why not join in?
I can't believe its been a whole week since my last post. Man, time is really flying.
My living situation has turned me from a grouch to a real bitch and there's nothing I can do about it because the consequences would result in homelessness. Not mine, but others. Its a no-win situation all the way around. If I did throw the guests out I would have to live with enormous guilt. Can't do it. I have to turn in my Total Bitch badge 'cause thats too extreme for me.
Ya do what ya have to do... and now I've got to go do dishes. Apparently no one else gets the thrill that I do when cleaning.
My friend had hung a huge fusia plant on her porch. I guess the sales person didn't think she could get it in her car because of its size but she made it okay. Did I say its huge? Dance little fusia ballerina, dance!
Its our turn now. Our turn for H.O.T. weather. We may hit a hundred degrees today. omg! Fortunately for us, its suppose to cool down a bit by the weekend.
That's five year old Vyron taking just one more bite of his food that had been put in the refrigerator. I thought it made an interesting composition. V is a very picky eater. No carbs allowed, and only limited food items are consumed. The fact that he went back into the refrigerator to eat just one more bite is note worthy around here.
I came across this video on Sandy's blog (Sandy's Walks About Town) and felt it needs to be heard by as many people as possible. It is a mother speaking at the Gulf Emergency Summit about her own personal experiences with BP and the oil spill. Its outrageous!! (15 minutes long but worth it.)
With a post title of "Super Glue", you probably already know where this is going, right? If we haven't personally experienced the amazing bonding effect of Super Glue, then we've heard stories about how it will glue anything. ANY. THING.
Darius now knows about it, too.
I was trying to fix a broken toy for the 5 yr old grandson and I asked him to get me the glue. Elmer's glue. In the background I heard 6 yr old Darius say in a helpful tone "Mom has some super glue!" I called back to him that super glue was too dangerous and that I don't touch the stuff.
After a few moments I gave up on trying to fix the broken toy. Then Darius slowly walked up to me from behind and softly said "gramma?" in that tone that says he's not sure how the conversation is going to go from that point on. Yup. He had glued his finger to the tube.
Confession. I totally lost it then. I'm sure it is going to cost me my nomination for gramma of the year award, but I couldn't help it. If you tell someone don't put your hand in that vat of acid and they turn around and put their hand in the acid, well, it has a tendency to totally tick me off. Sigh. But lets not dwell on this.
The only thing I could think of doing is to soak his finger (and tube) in some rubbing alcohol.
What doesn't show up in the photo is D's face as he wails about his dilemma. One of my endearing terms for D is Mr. Dramatic because it fits. Also, the poor dear was probably scared to death thinking he would spend the rest of his life with a tube of super glue on his finger.... or maybe something WORSE!
When his mom got home a few minutes later, she called the Advice Nurse to see what they knew. Fingernail polish remover with acetone was mentioned, but it could cause some irritation. Darius has sensitive skin, so that was a no-go. The next alternative was baby oil and yahoo... we had some. Well, we had a little.
We had just enough baby oil to cover the glued spot if the container was tipped in a certain way. It was, however, plenty of baby oil to soak the mattress and the front of D's shirt. Oh... and one of his mother's blouses. Ain't life fun?
The Group, as I sometimes call my daughter and grandsons, left and didn't return until evening. No tube on D's finger. Apparently the tube was stuck there all afternoon, but finally one of D's little friends helped him get it off. (Darius wasn't allowing any adult to try to remove it, no doubt thinking we would simply rip off his finger. It crossed my mind, but only once.) I don't know what happened to the tube of super glue. I'm guessing mom probably threw it away.
19 year old Suzie hunched over the lamp scrubbing decades of grime out of the indentations as though she were digging for treasure. In fact it was treasure of sorts. Suzie had spotted the 1960s lamp in a secondhand store and squealed like a stuck pig, albeit a cute one. She was into ‘retro’ anything and this lamp was definitely retro. Except for the dirt.
Her first cleaning didn’t bring the results she had hope for, but the toothbrush was a perfect cleaning tool. It wasn’t long before the lamp looked almost new.
As she began putting away the cleaning supplies she heard her mother call from the bottom of the stairs.
“Dinner’s ready.”
“Okay. Be right there.”
After putting the small bucket and detergent under the bathroom sink she quickly put the toothbrush under running water for all of two seconds before putting it back into the toothbrush holder.
So my dear brother… remember my blouse you used to wipe off the engine of your car? she thought to herself. Well, I do. And revenge IS sweet. I don’t care what they say.
(Each week Willow, over at Magpie Tales, posts a picture as a writing prompt. Go check out the poems and stories by going here.)
Wanda posted a photo of some watering cans and a few of us decided to try to "capture" them. I laid the trap but the can skittered by me. No "capture" today, but it was entertaining. For a while.
Check out what others have done (so far) here. To see the source photograph, go here.
(Wanda had gotten the photo from Abe Lincoln. Unfortunately I don't have his blog link right now.)
"…the people can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders. That is easy.All you have to do is tell them they are being attacked, and denounce the peacemakers for lack of patriotism and exposing the country to danger. It works the same in any country.” –Hermann Goering, Nazi Reichsmarschall
