In my mind, I'm five years old having a high old time wandering and wondering. In reality, I'm now in my late 60s, wowza! I tell you a lot of creativity is still to be found in this old young self. In you, too, whatever your age. Welcome to my barefoot world!
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Showing posts with the label year of experimentation
My wise Mama liked to say, “If something doesn’t work, oh well. Try again.” And that was my aim throughout 2022, The Year of Experimentation. Try this, try that. Give that a try. And, if a try doesn’t work, try another way. Try until I am satisfied and then give another way a try. Why not? Here are some highlights of my 2022: 1. Paints poured and roared over paper, canvasses, and other surfaces. 2. Beads and buttons and bits of jewelry were strung into sun catchers. 3. Fabric, paper, pictures, and etcetera were turned into cards, collages, calendars hangings, and a headboard. 4. I got over my fear of sewing elastic, as well as practiced patience ripping out worn-out elastic from pants and skirts. 5. I got back into writing poetry . 6. I’ve opened the folders of an unfinished project I started, oh my gosh, 40some years ago, about the history of Filipino Americans in my hometown and county, where I was born, raised, and returned. 7. I discovered that the slips I grew from a sw
My words found sound today, day 5 of my new left knee replacement adventure. Ouch! The first thing I saw when I was rolled into the operating room was a full set of hand drills. Wowza, to say the least. That’s for another day of story. Today I’m joining in with the Friday Writings fun hosted by Poets and Storytellers United. The prompt is all about repetition. I’m trying my hand with a Blitz poem format created by Robert Keim. Enjoy! Roll for Many by Su-sieee! Mac Rock of ages Rock and roll Roll on by Roll with me Me fa so la doe Me no go Go lightly Go gently Gently be mine Gently live Live lively Live sweetly Sweetly go I Sweetly go you You my sweet dude You my always Always and forever Always will be you and I I laugh at ants I fly in joy Joy joy joy Joy we sang Sang sung and sing Sang over hills and hills Hills of joy and love Hills so very green Green lands of green Green lands of joy Joy joy joy Joy I sing for you You I love You inside my heart Heart to heart Heart of the Earth
It’s 11:13 p.m. I ought to go to bed, but I don’t feel sleepy. I ought to. We did a lot of heavy moving this afternoon, the Husband and I. We rearranged the garage to let Sally Forth rest indoors. No go. All we needed was a foot. Alas there were no more inches to give, so back onto the driveway she went. The Husband set the alarm for 5:15 a.m. I need time to wash myself in some kind of special soap, dress, gather my thoughts and big girl panties, and skedaddle to the hospital. There I’ll be stripped, put in one of those indecent gowns, and prepped for knee surgery. Can you hear the saws grinding? Just kidding. I’m ready for it. Only took six years of distractions to get me to tomorrow. It’s 11:23 p.m. I’ll finish my cup of water, turn on the modem, take one last look at Facebook, and off to bed I go. Here we go, Knee-haw! 🙃
Today I’m linking up with Art for Fun Friday and Friday Writings . And, yes, indeed, today is Saturday. 🙃 Art for Fun Friday I created the fabric collage (above photo) recently on the backside of the board that we use for a makeshift coffee table. The board sits on top of Daddy’s hassock which, too, needs mending. (So many things to repair in this house.) The board’s original purpose, once upon a time, was the Husband’s drawing board. Here’s the collage on the board’s front side, which I call the front because I covered it earlier this year. The collage is a combination of fabric, wallpaper, magazine photos, and vintage magazine ads. Fun! Friday Writings Prompt: bleeding hearts Some people consider me a bleeding heart . The more hostile simply say effing libtard . I say, “you’re welcome.” Who’s the Bleeding Heart? You drop money in the church basket. You pray and ask for prayers. You go along with whoever you think has the the money, the glory, the fame, the power. You scoff at t
Landscapes usually make their way out of the recesses of my mind to paper or canvas or fabric. I don’t think about it. It’s what happens. This time I experimented with something in mind. I wanted to compose a scene with people and to use bold colors. It turns out hearts like to find a place in my pictures. I like that. Okey-dokey. I’m sharing with Art for Fun Friday . Cheers, One and All!
Oh, my gosh, did I have fun shopping last Saturday morning! Good pal L and I stopped in at the thrift store, which was having a half-off everything except for the jewelry, and two garage sales. I scored, I tell you, like a bandit. The photo shows some of the stuff I’ll be reusing, repurposing, and enjoying. All together, I bought: (1) Five picture frames, of which one is a framed bulletin board (2) Two silk scarves and a pair of black shorts (3) Two paperbacks and the Pride and Prejudice DVD with Colin Firth playing Mr. Darcy (4) Seven or (or is it eight?) metal racks of assorted types and sizes (5) Fabric scraps, including a yard or so of felt in gorgeous peacock blue (6) A 6.5-inch tall ceramic mug with blue flowers (7) A basket that looks like a picnic basket Yogi Bear and Boo Boo might steal (8) A long two tier candleholder centerpiece, which may become a planter for succulents (9). An old pasta drying rack (that will probably never be used for its intended purpose; I lik
Prompt: Red, Friday Writings , hosted by Poets and Storytellers United I don’t remember whether I gave the funeral home’s makeup artist a tube of Mama’s favorite lipstick. That was six years ago. I hope I did. Lipstick completes a woman, so I think Mama believed. Mama’s Lips Red, true red, was the color Mama traced precisely filled in carefully pursing lips lightly blotting away red. A final look, deep breath. Ready. -30- Head to Friday Writings to read what other participants are writing this week.
Art for Fun Friday ( 1) Thursday came and went before I finished my post for Thursday 13 . So many things by which to be distracted—painting, housekeeping, weeding, reading, gardening, wandering on the Web, watching movies, talking with the Husband, cooking, and so forth and so on. I love my life as an old lady. (2) Today’s prompt for Friday Writings is “a hobby that brings you peace.” Gardening, definitely. Painting, also. I like it when they overlap, for example, the planter box of transplanted Jupiter’s beard in the above photo. The left side of the box was painted a couple years ago. I painted the right side this week because I decided to place the planter at the southeast end of the sidewalk and I wanted something colorful to face the street. (3) Doing research is fun. Sometimes I think of Google as being an 8-ball when I &ask a yes/no question such as “Can I plant canna lilies next to vine geraniums, maybe two feet away?” Of course, Google never gives me a simple
Here’s one of my work-in-progress projects, a wall hanging I had planned to enter into this weekend’s county fair. When I got to this point, I didn’t feel like rushing the details. There’s no need for me to do a slap happy job simply to make the deadline. Nor to work into the wee hours like this was an essential job. Nope. After all, I can always submit the wall hanging next year, should it tickle my fancy. Tickle, tickle. I love how the volcano turned out. The green velvet fabric is actually a sleeve from a top I wore in my single days and the red zipper is from a dress Mama sewed for me when I was a kid. That blue ziggy line shiny material is part of Mama’s blouse circa the late 60s/early 70s. The plaid heart came from one of Mama’s sleeveless blouses. Mama was one styling chick! Sharing today’s creativity with Ms. Gillena’s Art for Fun Friday at Lunch Break.
(1) Let’s see, today, for our main meal the Husband and I ate a melange of five left over dishes from the last two days, or three. Or, four. Garbanzo butternut soup, couscous with chimichurri sauce, sauteed onion and squash, ground turkey burgers, and roasted red and green peppers. The flavors blended quite well together, surprisingly and with great relief. We ate our portions all up. No leftovers, hurrah! (2) To go along with our meal I concocted an ooh-la-la drink. Passion fruit juice with a jigger of rum. Ooh la la! (3) The Husband and I toasted to the last day of our 25th year of marriage. Tomorrow: Hello 26th! Clink, clink. (4) Maybe next year we will be dancing with our friends and family to celebrate our 27th anniversary. I also would like us to throw a party for the septuagenarians among us. We shall see. (5) The last two weeks I’ve been working on my entries for the county fair. That’s some of the craft entries in the photo above. (6) Yep, that’s a juicer. Good friend L.
The poem I wrote last week settled something deep inside me. It also opened a gate of craziness, a joyful one. I wrote, I painted, I breathed. So, today, I’m sharing this post with Art for Fun Friday , hosted by Gillena at Lunch Break and Friday Writings , hosted by Poets and Storytellers United. For Art for Fun Friday : A month or so ago I bought a package of canvasses of different sizes online. I didn’t read the descriptions carefully so disappointment was mine when they were delivered to our door. I thought they would be canvasses stapled to frames. Oh, well. Next time. They were cheap, so I kept them for those times I want to throw caution to the side and let the visual artist in me explore, experiment, enjoy. Wow, I really said that: artist. It did not come easy to believe. Okay, back to topic. This painting is Exploration #1. Yesterday, I globbed pastels, crayons, and acrylic makers onto an 8x10 canvas. Yuck. Today, I turned the painting upside down and continued onward,
My latest painting experiment was slathering, scraping, and scratching acrylic colors with a palette knife. Scritch, scritch….scrape, scrape… scratch…scratch…skritch… scrape….I love the sound of painting. I’m sharing with Art for Fun Friday , hosted by Gillena at Lunch Break . ❤️
(1) This morning we walked around the block. Definitely a big deal for me who haven’t done much walking. I’ve been getting my exercise playing in the garden, hauling, digging, bending, reaching, pulling, and so forth and so on. I also got a good workout vacuuming the stairs last week. There’s nothing like stretching my legs though. Best of all, my knees didn’t pop and cough until I took my shoes off, thank you very much. Yeah, I’m still waiting for my turn with the knee surgeon. (2) Other than in my head, I haven’t felt much like writing. Thus, my latest absence. (3) It took me awhile to start letting go about feeling guilty for not writing, which I’ve been doing for fun and for a living most of my life. The latter, unnecessary for the present, thankfully. I’m rambling. (4) Once upon a time, one of my high school teachers told me I could never be a writer because I ramble too much. She, with her bra strap constantly peeking out of her sleeveless blouse. The wise one also discourage
At the moment, I’m one of those old retired people who get up just before sunrise and do a bunch of stuff before breakfast. This morning I did a load of laundry, pruned more dead branches off a woody rose bush, washed a bucket full of flat stones, planted geranium vine cuttings, and weeded the Husband’s Three Sisters patch. All within two hours. I’ve also been dawdling for the past two hours at the breakfast table. Fun! So, what will I do for the rest of the day? There are many possibilities. Paint a few planters Read about estate planning. Dust and vacuum upstairs. Find the bags of dried rose hips and plant some in pots. Pick fruit up high on the avocado tree. Reorganize the collection of stuff I use for making greeting cards. Pull fabric scraps together for a patchwork tablecloth. Write a letter to a friend. File last year’s receipts. Fill in my passport application. Draft the second story about Daddy. Experiment with making concrete sculptures. Do research at Ancestry.com. Or, none
Molly’s dining table was a single white shelf that once belonged to the Husband’s dad who used it in his office. The shelf was the perfect height for Missy Molly by Golly to enjoy her water and meals. As you can see, Molly’s table is no longer white. Painted and slapped-happy glued with fabric scraps, snipped pictures and photos, and rose petals, it was. Was I ever excited and impressed to see the rose petals stay in place when I set the table upright? The Husband asked if the colors will fade. We shall see. Molly’s once dining table will become a plant shelf on the table, which was Molly’s dining table in her young and spry years. Jump. I consider this end of the living room where the table sits as being Molly’s space. It was where she came out of her carrier the day we brought her home and where she let go of her last breath to soar into the Universe over a month ago. And, in between times, this well-lit, airy side of the living room was where the pinky-nosed (wilde) cat ate,