Tag Archives: photographs

Sharing My World 29

imageDeja Vu. By some happy fluke this picture looks great on one of my yellow walls and goes well with an arrangement my sister did for me eons ago because I don’t have any talent for that kind of thing, but you can’t be good at everything, right?

What an awkward picture of mostly wall.  This is why I admire good photographers.

Share Your World 2015 Week 20

What is the most important thing that you ever learned? (I bet it’s not something you learned in school)

Nope, but I wish I could have studied all things Eckhart Tolle in school.  Then I would have known how to live in the moment without worrying about what happened yesterday or what might happen tomorrow.  How to be fully present and love exactly what I’m doing, right here and right now.  Acceptance of what is, without futile resistance.  Knowing the calm and joyful beautiful me, and the life underneath the life situation.

What feeds your enthusiasm for life?

My family, near and far.  My writing, good and bad.  My art, wonderful or weird.  Reading.  Coffee.  Netflix.  (Well, I did leave that one for last.)

What’s your most memorable (good or bad) airplane commercial or private flight?

I wonder if I have some kind of strange comprehension problem, because when I first read that question I thought I was supposed to come up with my favourite airplane commercial.  But, it’s okay, I get it now.  There have been many memorable flights in my life so I’m going to give you a little list.

1.  My very first flight was in 1975 from Toronto to Winnipeg with my one year old daughter.  So it was her first flight too.  Kind of amazing that I had never been on an airplane before that.

2.  Our first flight into the Arctic (Cambridge Bay) where we landed in the middle of frozen white nowhere. Brrrr.

3.  Flying into Pangnirtung where the approach is between two cliffs and I swear the wing tips almost scrape them both.  Just Google images for “landing in Pangnirtung” if you think I’m kidding.

4.  Flying into Rankin Inlet in some tiny little plane in a crazy howling wind and skidding sideways on the tarmac.  Turbulence on the ground was worse than in the air.  Okay, I had a lot of Gravol before that flight, so my recollection may be a little hazy.

5.  The flight from Edmonton to Toronto (en route to Scotland) when the engines stopped making noise on our approach.  No one else in the plane appeared to be concerned about this.  So I assumed I had gone deaf.  Turned out it was plugged ears from a wicked head cold.  But it didn’t clear up until we were headed home, so I shouted at my sister for the entire two weeks.

If you were a great explorer, what would you explore?

Parallel universes in a time machine. With a couple of adventurous spirit guides. Then I would write about my most memorable experiences.  And maybe draw you some pictures.

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

Its been a nice quiet uneventful lazy week with some creative spurts thrown in, and I am looking forward to more of the same.  Is that boring?  Do I look bored to you?  It was the photo of the wall that gave it away, wasn’t it.

 

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Sharing My World 25

Share Your World – 2015 Week #14

What type of music relaxes you the most or do you prefer silence?

Sometimes I think there’s no such thing as relaxing music.  For me it is never in the background, no matter how soft and sweet.  It feels intrusive.  It gets in my head and interferes with everything else.  I hope that proves that there are actually a few things in there.  I especially don’t like music playing when I’m on hold on the phone or loudly blaring at me when I’m shopping.  Or when the next door neighbors’ son starts his car in the morning. That kid cannot possibly have much left of his ear drums. Recorded water sounds (rainfall, waterfalls, waves) and weird and random nature noises just make me nervous.  A harp makes me feel sad.  Piano music grates on my nerves because I used to play piano and I am constantly listening for mistakes.  Even the sound of somebody humming annoys the hell out of me.

Okay.  I guess the answer here is that I prefer silence.  Or white noise, like a monotonous fan, which filters out everything else.  I will probably be the happiest old deaf person you have ever seen.

Show us a two of your favorites photographs.  Explain why they are your favorite.   If you are not a photographer, think of a two favorite scenes in your life and tell us about them.

Two of my favourite things are my adult children who both have families of their own now, although I still often think of them like this:

popsicle kids

The best place to enjoy a drippy popsicle is wherever the juicy stains are least likely to be noticed.

paint your brother

I apologize if the sight of this furniture damaged some of your brain cells.  If colour made noise, this couch would probably give you a migraine.  It came with the government housing in the late 1970’s in Inuvik, N.W.T.  It was not my fault.  My daughter painting my son was also not my fault.

What is your favorite tradition? (family tradition, church tradition, whatever)

It doesn’t matter what we’re celebrating or where or why,  just being with family is what’s important.  As long as they don’t have their music turned up too loud.

If you could go back and talk to yourself at age 18 what advice would you give yourself?  Or if you are younger than 25 what words of wisdom would you like to tell yourself at age 50?

When I was 25 I could not imagine ever being 50. Now that I’m well past 50 I can’t for the life of me remember what I was up to at the age of 18.  Maybe I would just tell that girl to enjoy the music, because one day she’s going to kind of hate it.  I would also let her know her kids are going to one day paint each other for no apparent reason other than finding it funny.  She should laugh too. There can never be too much laughter in your life.

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

I love Netflix when they send me notifications that some crazy thing I watched for 15 minutes 5 years ago has new episodes.  Because how would I know that otherwise?  I love that I can take time off from writing or painting or thinking and sit down and watch six episodes in a row of whatever I want, putting off what I actually should be doing for another time when I might feel like getting it done.

I don’t know what I’m looking forward to other than putting something on a really beautiful background I painted. I promise I will post it soon.  I don’t know why I’m taking so long to decide on something.  Maybe I’m afraid of ruining it. Maybe procrastination is just my all time favourite thing ever.  I can almost hear my 18-year-old self yelling at me from my past to get the hell off my ass and get some things accomplished before there are no years or months or days left.  Sorry, my fan is on high and I can’t understand you.  Netflix sends me an email.  Maybe try that in a couple of decades.

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Art du Jour 37

imageThis was time-consuming and labour intensive.  But also fun, except maybe for all the glue and paint and paper scraps everywhere.  Now I have a greater appreciation for artistic people who put these things together.  In case you don’t notice it on your own, I would like to point out that the main part of the house is strips of paper in basket weave.  That’s how it started.

Yes, I do have a lot of time on my hands and I’m trying many new things to make a dent in using up all the massive amounts of paper I purchased having very few clues at the time about what I would ever do with all of them.  When I take pictures of these finished products,  I set them on my easel so they are leaning back slightly, and the upper left hand corner always looks blurry.  Although maybe the fact that I used a lot of water on this board and it warped a bit could be a factor as well.  Life is full of mysteries.

So, bonus day.  Here’s how it looks on my yellow wall.  Beside something equally strange and in different light.  Why does my wall not look yellow??

image

The paint on my art room walls is called Elephant Grass and in real life is much nicer than this looks.

Before embarking on this project I watched an artist on YouTube put together an art journal page using paint and paper and stencils with a drawing of a partial face looking rather ghostly and emerging from the background.  She had a whole book full of stencils and took half the video choosing the ones she wanted to use.  With all the stopping and starting and talking and pausing and speeding up and waiting for things to dry, it’s a wonder I learned anything, other than knowing I am not ready to make a video of my own any time soon.  Mine would include too much profanity and hand washing.

I’m happy with this result, even though I don’t think it’s something I’d want hanging over my dining room table.  Good thing I don’t have a dining room table.  It might be nice in a kids room.  I don’t have one of those either any more.

Well, for someone who thought she didn’t have anything much to say today, I’ve managed to write a lot of words, as well as post two pictures of the same thing.  This blogging thing is so easy.  And you can do it most days without glue.

My Baby Face

Long ago my mother had a camera without a flash.  She was always moving people into the bright sunshine to snap a picture.  There is nothing on my brothers face here except a big dollop of extremely bright light.  Some spots are over exposed and some are left in the shadows.

Mom always told me I was a very content and happy baby.  I liked to eat and sleep and laugh.  Not much has changed, really. But this picture is proof that even the happiest baby can raise a little hell.  Man, what a face.

Filling In the Blanks

Once again I’ve managed to skip a week of prompts and decided to play catch up.  So it’s not a full-blown cop-out,  merely a semi blown one.  I am very good at those, and as everyone knows, one should always do what one does best.

You have ten minutes to interview a celebrity.  Who will it be?  I have no idea, but if I’m actually doing this it is under duress or at gunpoint or because of a death threat.  But if any celebrity would like to interview me, I’m fine with that.  The ten minute time limit is good, since then there would be only one question, because God knows I can blather away about being completely unknown and without any real talents or accomplishments for way longer than that.  I’d pose for pictures too.  And look for myself in the tabloids to see what kind of garbage lies they had to come up with to make me interesting.

List the cities you would consider moving to in the future.  Aquitaine or any similar seaside resort in the south of France.  Puerto Baquerizo Moreno in the Galapagos.  Edinburgh Scotland.  London England.  Marrakech in Morocco.  Montego Bay, Jamaica.  The list is endless, really.  Get me an atlas.

What is the best live musical performance you’ve attended?   Strangely enough I’d have to say Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat.  With Donny Osmond.  Way back whenever it was at the Jubilee.  I don’t get out much.

What are your favourite things to photograph?  Ha.  You’re asking a grandmother.  One guess.

Ever won a contest, giveaway, lottery?  Nothing big, but I’ve won small things.  The one that immediately comes to mind is from a sort of field trip I was on with the Women’s Institute to which my mom belonged.  I can’t remember why I was tagging along, and I could not now name the place.  It was some kind of rehabilitation centre.  Not for criminals, but maybe for the mentally ill.  I remember being mildly excited to get a glimpse of real live crazy people.  If that was even what they were.  I was young, and obviously not paying attention.  We were given a tour, and one of the therapeutic activities that was pointed out to us was the manufacturing of stuffed animals by the patients.  Or inmates.  The resident nutballs.  There was either a door prize, or some kind of draw, and that’s what I won.  A little fuzzy yellow and white thing that could have been a dog sitting up on its haunches looking rather pathetic and sad.  I named him Delmore.  The first three letters were the backward initials of my current boyfriend, of whom I wanted more.  Who says teenagers aren’t deep.

What was your childhood dream job?  Marine Biologist.  But when I found out it involved dealing with oceans and aquatic creatures, I changed my mind.