Art du Jour 68

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This is what happens when you take a photo in low light at the end of the day and your pencils cast shadows on the white page. As if you would ever wonder about that. Just saying, now you don’t have to.

This morning I went grocery shopping. On my return, I immediately made myself a very creamy cup of coffee with my stockpile of coffee cream.  Running out of cream was more brutal than anticipated.  This is how you learn how addicted you are to something.  Shopping before coffee sure speeds up the process but doesn’t necessarily make it pleasant.

The day turned out to be very hot and I turned out to be very lethargic. But it finally cooled off enough for me to draw something once the light was more or less useless for art.

Considering how little time I spent on this, I’m very happy with it.  My mind might change with the daylight.

This is the start of Canada Day long weekend!   Flags are flying.  Hope you have a good one.

Sharing My World 30

 

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The little faded drawing in the middle of this picture is at least ten years old, made by our oldest granddaughter, when she was maybe three or four.  The creation and the concept and the words are hers, and all this time later I’ve added a border hoping to preserve her little masterpiece from getting lost or destroyed.  Her initials are above her self-portrait, and GR is a short form for grandpa.  And I guess that day they were being silly.  Worth saving, worth sharing, right?

Share Your World – 2015 Week #22

Finish these four sentences. You can talk about yourself or be creative and write a piece of fiction. It’s up to you. Have some fun.

Never In My Life Have I….

needed so little sleep as I do now since settling into retirement and advanced years.  That sounds better than ‘old age’.  You know, slightly.   I read somewhere that old people need less sleep, probably in part because a lot of them don’t have anything much to do anymore and thus don’t get exhausted.  Or it’s simply part of healthy aging where reductions in the sleep duration and depth are fine, and less sleep is required to maintain daytime alertness.   I’m trying to remember if I ever had a lot of daytime alertness when I felt sleep deprived.  Anyway, 6 hours a night seems to be the norm now.  And no daytime naps.  It’s all very weird.

My neighbour wants me to help her…..

feel less embarrassed by my flower beds.  Really, I don’t even know much about my neighbors on either side of me.  Except that their names are Denise and Faye and they both have amazing things growing in their front yards.  I have dogwood and a little tree that needs constant trimming and rarely gets it, and some kind of thorny berry bush growing wild.  Hey, I make both of them look good simply by being lazy non-gardening me.  They should be happy about that.

When I was little I wanted…

to get out of going to church every Sunday.  My mother never let that happen, even though the place was incredibly boring and I hated getting dressed up.  She had some strange and very strict rules.  Church got a little more interesting when I was part of the junior choir and could play Snap…

(Each player has a pile of cards face down and together they turn the cards up one by one until they match.  Whoever says SNAP first wins the other’s turned over pile of cards.  The object of the game is to win all the cards.)

….with my church friend.  We used the left over hymn number cards that went on the  little board on the wall announcing the page numbers of the hymns that we would be singing during the service.  It’s good for a congregation to all be on the same page.  It took a lot of stealth to never get caught playing with these cards, along with sitting in the back row and as far away from the choir leader as possible.  And it made the sermon almost bearable.  Church is where I became a clock watcher, wishing time would speed up so I could go home and do ANYTHING else.   Although whispering and being sneaky was fun.

Will you come here to…

work on my flowerbeds?  Explain to me what I was supposed to get out of Sunday mornings besides mad Snap skills?  Or we could just have coffee and you could assure me that I do indeed appear to be alert and don’t have dark circles under my eyes from lack of sleep.  We could play a rousing game of cards.  There might be cake.

Bonus question: What are you grateful for from last week, and what are you looking forward to in the week coming up?

Half the time I don’t know or care what day of the week it is.  I’m grateful for that.  It’s very freeing.  I’m also grateful for the time to be creative, now that there are 18 hours of being awake in my day.  So do I use all those hours productively?  Pffft.  No.

But I wrote this!  I preserved a memory!  I admitted my small bit of flower bed remorse.  The day isn’t a complete write-off.

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Art du Jour 60

For the big six-O I am calling this Adventures in Watercolour.  Whether I will ever revisit this place is up in the air for now.

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This is what I accomplished by paying attention to a little watercolour tutorial and using the wet on wet technique. Up to a point, of course and then did too many embellishments, but over all I think it’s not bad. The crooked border was an impulsive afterthought.

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And this one I’m happy with simply because it is recognizable as an elephant.

So, Happy Middle of the Week Wednesday! I’m drinking that midnight eclipse coffee again and planning on getting many, many things done. Just have to decide what. Perhaps some pseudo LSD hallucination-like wet on wet abstract watercolour blended creations.

Whoa. Brace yourself.

Just Another Great Canadian Sunday

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It’s not every day I take a picture of my shampoo, so you know there’s got to be some kind of weird story behind it, right?

There’s a really good reason for me staying at home while W does most of the shopping. He is able to pick up all the items on a list, no more and no less. I admire that about him. Well, about anyone, really. The lists I take with me become vague guidelines once I enter a store. My cart fills up, and when the cashier wants to know if I found everything I was looking for I just smile and nod. Because explaining that I made six substitutions and changed my mind ten times and probably forgot at least three essentials but now couldn’t be bothered looking for them because I’m exhausted and don’t want to retrace my steps and just would like to be done with shopping and go home…..I don’t think she really wants to hear all that.

Anyway, back to the shampoo. I find it very hard to resist a good deal, even though I also firmly believe you get what you pay for. So I am one of those annoying shoppers with way too much time on my hands who will block an aisle while I check out ingredients and best buys and packaging and brands and on and on so you can see why the process is exhausting. And yes, the shampoo, I’m getting to that, I swear.  Although you can’t see it clearly in my photo, right at the top it says Proudly Canadian and underneath that, Fiers d’être Canadiens which roughly translated means proud to be (a French-speaking) Canadian.

And this bottle of shampoo cost One Canadian Dollar. OMG.

What in the world makes a shampoo uniquely Canadian? Being manufactured in Toronto? And why is it so CHEAP?? Is it complete Canadian/Canadien crap? Is this one of those instances where the store made a crazy deal and is passing the savings along to consumers? If I use this stuff will my hair turn to dandelion fluff and blow away in a high wind? Do I have any Advil at home for this headache? Better pick some up.

Anyway, long story short, although it’s too late for that, I have used this shampoo twice now and am happy to report no disasters so far. My hair is clean and shiny and still attached to my scalp.  If the Daily Basics people would like to pay me for endorsing their product I would be perfectly fine with that.  Although perhaps with that retail price they don’t have much of an advertising budget.

So that was a rather successful impulse purchase, which I believe offsets this next one.

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When W is away I drink Tassimo coffee, because I can’t figure out how to get the other coffee maker to brew half a pot that tastes right, and although the Tassimo coffee is more expensive, it likely all evens out because I’m not dumping half a pot of coffee down the sink every day. By now, if you are still reading this I’m sure you are wondering where all this information is coming from, but, more importantly WHY I’m telling you all this shit in the first place. I wish I knew. Or maybe neither of us cares but there appears to be nothing much else going on for us at the moment, so what the hell.

What I wanted to buy was a double sized Tassimo coffee in a breakfast blend. There was none to be found on the shelves, and this was the only double sized there, and the midnight eclipse thing was very appealing to me. Midnight eclipse for breakfast. Why not? BOLD is not an exaggeration I’m here to tell you. This stuff will knock your socks off. Thank God I never wear any.

Okay, I’m going to paint something now to forget the trauma of shopping. After that coffee I will probably be awake for three days. With great Canadian hair.

Have a scintillating Sunday. If it’s not too late for that.

Art du Jour 47

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Always thought it would be fun to do a stacked coffee cup picture.  It’s harder than it looks.  Of course if I didn’t tend to overdo things it might have been easier, with fewer cups for instance.  And I’m not a big fan of outlining in black, but in this case it helped to separate the foreground from the background.

You will never find a balancing act like this in real life.

What Happened Yesterday

Random art work unrelated to subject because the alternative was a photo of an actual human colon.  You're welcome.

Random art work unrelated to subject because the alternative was a photo of an actual human colon. You’re welcome.

It’s been a long morning for me, thanks to Lacie, the amazing alarm clock dog.  The neighbours next door let her out in the early morning to do her business and she barks her fool little head off at….I don’t know….snowflakes, fence posts, air.  I wonder why she can’t just go for a quiet pee like a normal dog and let me sleep.  But this morning was better than yesterday morning, so I have forgiven her.

Today is a good day because it’s Friday, it’s snowing, and I have nowhere to go!  And no gigantic four litre jug of vile laxative to consume!  I’m going to tell you my colonoscopy story, so if you’d like to skip on to whatever you were going to do next, now’s your chance.

For the three of you who have decided to stick around because you love old people medical stories, here we go.  I have a family history of bowel cancer, and a colonoscopy is something doctors have strongly advised me to have done to detect any potential problems.  The day before the procedure is spent cleaning out the colon, eating nothing, drinking clear fluids, feeling sorry for yourself and staying close to the bathroom.  Black coffee is allowed.  Thank God for small mercies.  For the last eight hours you can have nothing by mouth, not even water.

The first colonoscopy I had was done in 2003 and I was instructed to come back for another one in ten years.  But because of my superior procrastination skills, I was able to stretch that to twelve.  If the results are fine for this one, I may set a fifteen year goal for the next one.

The procedure was scheduled for 11:45 a.m. yesterday.  I like to be insanely early for things and W likes to be a minimum of five minutes late.  The morning started off with a dead battery in my car.  This was all my fault for not driving it enough.  And we could not take the truck because W was having way too much fun making a big production of recharging the battery and slicing a finger open in the process.  This required much swearing and a bandaid.  Then we took a long convoluted route to our destination, slowing down for green lights in the hope that they would turn red before we got to them.  There is no parking at the hospital.  Well, there is, but every parking lot is always full and we know this, but drive around through all of them just to make sure.  There’s lots of parking spaces at the mall nearby, because it’s better to inconvenience sick people than to piss off shoppers.

W dropped me off at admitting 80 minutes instead of the required 90 minutes ahead of time so that I could check in and fill out a form and sit on my ass for a bit thinking about all the things that could possibly go wrong and wondering if he would make it back from wherever he finally managed to park.  I also thought a lot about food and being incredibly thirsty and how much my head was aching.  Eventually I was taken to a prep room where I signed a consent form and donned one of those beautiful back-open hospital gowns I’m so fond of.  The nurse told me to leave my socks on, because just the gown by itself isn’t funny enough.  Then they inserted the IV paraphernalia and told me to lie down and wait.  W had shown up and taken off and come back again while I studied the ceiling tiles.  He told me he went to the hospital cafeteria for soup and a sandwich.  I was going to say “I hate  you” but I didn’t because, although that is a perfectly acceptable thing to say when you’re in labour,  in this case I was faint from hunger and simply didn’t have the energy.

The procedure itself took about fifteen minutes.  The IV is for sedation.  They don’t like to give you too much because it’s a busy place and no one wants you hanging around too long afterwards waking up.  So I was sort of aware of what was going on.  Trust me when I say passing out completely would have been my preferred option.  I was then wheeled to a recovery area where I studied some different ceiling tiles until they removed the tubes and tape and let me get dressed.  Then the doctor popped by to tell me it all went well and although there were a couple of polyps discovered, he wasn’t anticipating they were anything to worry about.

Because you are not allowed to leave on your own, the nurse pointed across the room at W and asked me if that was my ride.  Normally this would not be a funny thing to say, but when you’re coming out of sedation all bets are off.  I imagined introducing him to strangers as “my ride” and thinking that was the most freaking hilarious thing I’d ever heard.  She quickly told me I was free to go.

On the way home “my ride” stopped at Swiss Chalet and watched me eat a huge plate of chicken and ribs and sweet potato fries, washed down with two cups of coffee and three glasses of water.  Then of course I felt sick, but also happy.  It’s hard to explain.

And here you thought nothing interesting or exciting ever happened in my life as a retired person who never starts her car.  I am so glad that today is another day exactly like that.  Even Lacie the yappy wonder dog can’t ruin it.