New dress!!!

I went to the mall last night and popped into the Gap just for fun. I was just about knocked over by how much lust I felt for this dress. It's SO, so me. Denim, 3/4 length sleves, dropped waist...I knew I had to get it.

I tried it on in Medium, but it wasn't as cute as I'd hoped. I mean, it was cute, but my thick waist made it look sort of lame.

I grabbed a Large and bought it anyway.

I love it too much. I am going to have to force myself NOT to wear it everyday. I'm sure its not flattering, but, I love it's slouchy cuteness anyway.

Heres my typical super grainy shot of it:


When I wear it again, I'll take a proper shot of it. Today I wore it to the feed store to get new chicks to replace my murdered flock. (wow...that was dramatic)

Homework done....two lame paintings improved.

I got a nice chunk of time to work on stuff today. We woke up ridiculously late- about 10. This is something I haven't done in years. It was so nice. Breakfast was pancakes and bacon- served around noon.

I got out my painting gear right after and took out my awful paintings from class the last week. Wednesdays had to be finished, and Mondays had to be fixed.

He's Mondays painting before:


And after:


I could not get a handle on the greys when I did this painting originally. I had the forms down, but the greys were atrocious. I Adding a backgroud helped me define the spaces better and toning down some of the values brought more life to the painting. Still...not my best work in any way, but an improvement that will show in my portfolio (that gets turned in soon!!)

The next thing I did was finish wednesdays value study of boxes. It was a little confusing to have to finish a piece without the subject matter for reference, but, I took my knowledge of perspctive, and fixed some errant angles. I am struggling with my backgrounds- I can't seem to make them recede enough to look like...well...BACKgrounds. I hope Heike (my professor)will approve.


Now I have to prime a few sheets of Bristol and I'll be ready for the week!!

Homework: Finish this boring painting

We are still working on Chromatic greys and perspective in class this week. Our homework is to finish the paintings we started in class on Wednesday.

So, yeah...it looks like a pile of lame. It's mostly an exercise, but, I hope once I finish it, I can give it some life and create some interest. I was thrilled to have actually mixed some good greys this time.

I was all proud of my lemon paintings, and I have a tendency to want my stuff to be the best in class (which is totally, totally awful of me). I was thinking how good I was at this. I'm really doing it...I CAN paint!! Then, my friend Brian who sits next to me pulls his out and my heart sank. His were absolutely awesome. So dimensional, so alive.

I guess I've got so much to learn. I'm actually really glad he sits next to me. He's such a good painter and it's good for me to see how he does it.

I've got SO far to go...

Sad.

A dog friggin' got into our yard and killed ALL seven of my chickens.

I guess I couldn't be a farmer because I hate this. I am so sad. They were just birds, and they crap all over the place and they don't really love me back or anything, but I loved them. I loved when I 'd pick them up and feel their soft feathers under my fingers. I loved the noise they made when I came outside and the way they'd all roost on the roof of their coop.

I wouldn't feel so bad if they weren't simply ripped apart for sport by my piece-of-shit-neighbors dog. I found one of them- buried completely in the dirt except for one foot. The other was strewn in said neighbors yard. I never found the 5 others except for a bunch of white feathers from my white Silkie, Luna. My yard is covered in feathers and dog prints. I still kinda hope the rest are out there, but, they can't make it outside in the mountains like this for very long, if the dog didn't get them, a fox or bobcat would have.

Goodbye Luna, Ginny, Hermione, Myrtle, Molly, Brietta, and Henrietta.

Loving the NaNoWrimo forums, still

Yes, though it is no long National Novel Writing month, the nerds over at www.nanowrimo.org are still going strong.

I'm so glad, too. I've been having this week of weirdness, dreams about fake people, new music adding a spin to my imagination and a whole slew of new dialogue that could potentially sew together the plot holes. I've needed a place where I could see other people besides myself are obsessed. Now, a lot of them live at home, or live alone with their collection of reptiles. Some are just kids, and some are...well..I'm not sure what some of them really do all day, but, they all seem to get me and my need to sacrifice my brain for the sake of creative endeavor.

And every once and a while, you run across someone totally normal who you relate with, and that makes all the difference.

I have a few copies of Blood Freckles floating around out there, now. I'm hoping for some real solid criticism. I know the story is not strong enough yet to be widely read, and I hope that a kick in the pants and the realization of some harsh realities will put me on the path of writing something I'll be proud to put my name on. Again, I'm not even talking publishing as much as the fleshing out of something my mind has produced, as well as the justification of hours and HOURS of staring and talking to myself.

Does any of that make sense?

If you are one of the 4 people who has the book in their hands, I hope you won't be afraid to give it to me straight. Tell me Johns actions are unlikely. Tell me Nina is a dolt who you don't care about. Remind me it'd all be better if John was dead. Say that there's too much extra-sensory talent in this story. I can take it. I know...I know...and tell me I need to stop using ellipses. I know... :)

Death by laundry.

It's possible. I know this because I think my own clothing situation is making me ill...it's just the beginning.

My house is two-story, with the living area upstairs and the laundry room and bedrooms downstairs. This is awesome when someone drops by- we shove everything downstairs.

The only problem is, we've been doing that a lot lately, and theres a bit of a...ahem...pile up down there.

Someone should go through it all and sort it. Someone should get the clean stuff put away and the dirty into the hamper (thats currently buried). Someone should purge some stuff.

I wish that someone wasn't me. I'm not sure how normal people live, but for me, stuff like laundry and dishes are certainly an afterthought, only taken care in the case of guilt or obvious need.

I do like order. I like a clean house. I don't like maintaining one, though.

Ok. I'm off. I am going to attempt to be productive. It might kill me. It's been nice knowing you.

You win some, you lose some, or class #8

In response to this painting at class yesterday, my professor actually said, "Ok...what happened?"

Classic case of over-thinking. Wonderful example of struggling through a piece. This looks like crap. I'll bet you can't even tell what I was intending. This is an all-white still life in which we weren't allowed to use any black to make up the grays. Seemed to be something I'd be fine at, but, as it turns out, I couldn't get grey if it killed me.

If you mix blue/red/yellow in the right doses, you get a neutral that can be mixed with white. All grey tends to lean toward warm or cool, and one should be able to get there with proper mixing. Assuming you know how to do this. Which, obviously, I don't...YET!!

I'm supposed to finish this by tomorrow, on top of priming some sheets of Bristol paper with my very small amount of Gesso...I REALLY need to get to Utrecht and get some supplies. (too bad its and hour and a half from here...totally worth it, though.)

My look of the moment

I'm obsessed with this orange lipstick. It makes me immeasurably giddy. And I'm wearing my bangs all in my eyes like an 18 year old. I'm sure I'll get tired of it, but for right now it's kinda fun. Plus it hides some aging I've got going on.

Why are my chickens scared of my bunny? (not a joke...I really don't get why she freaks them out so much)

Homework: 2 paintings

It feels like my entire weekend was spent painting, which is a pretty cool thing. Our assignment was to do two paintings of uni-colored fruit on a neutral background. For one, value changes or shading could only be done using black and white along with the local color of the fruit and what it sat on. For the next one, we were do the same thing, except shade with the complementary hue of the fruit, in my case, being violet, since I used lemons.

The first one felt surprisingly successful. I wasn't real happy with the composition I choose, and it was a rough start, but i liked the result.



The next one was a pain in the butt. Violet and yellow do not like each other and this made for a streaky mess. The result, after several layers of paint, worked out.



Side by side, they look very similar, but the one on the right looks warmer and has a bit more dimension than the painting that only used black and white.



Fascinating. *lifts one eyebrow ala Spock....*

There must be an answer to all my weirdness

I was a weird kid, but I haven't gotten much better with age. My eccentricities have only deepened and mature with age like some obscure vinegar. Strangely, I managed to get married to someone who either tolerates or perhaps appreciates my lack of common sense and imaginary friends. I also have somehow acquired a decent cast of real-life friends who seemed to laughingly put up with my quirks.

There are some things I tend to filter for real life people. For example- I really, really like cats. It's almost unnatural. As a kid I thought I could read their minds and they could read mine. I'm still not completely convinced this isn't true. Also, I really love the smell of their fur- if they are near me, my nose in undoubtedly pressed into their little cat-heads. This makes me happy.

Another thing that's weird is how obsessed I am with my stories. I've been this way since I was little- before I could write them down. I've always had other people, other worlds and other lives going on. Generally those lives re-appear as soon as I'm alone or at least out of ear-shot.

I'm pretty sure it's not psychosis, as I know it's not real. I'm ok with it not being real. Every once and a while, though, it feels like they cross over.

I've got to finish this book, folks. I'm no a strong writer- I have no dream of becoming famous as a writer. I just want to write a few book about these people in my head. And I want to do my best.

A couple nights ago...I had a dream about a guy...it was too foggy to get a sense of what was happening or where. But it was one of those things where I woke up half expecting it till to be going on. It was visceral- like I could smell him. I think...and this is weird...it was John. Yes...fake John from my story. No real person...no one my husband has to beat the tar out of or anything. It was just like he was in my head but super-real. Not some Robert Pattinson-inspired conjured cloud of an idea.

I was starting to separate myself from Blood Freckles, as a way of giving up for a while, at least. It's just not strong enough. But then..this... This weird thing that seemed to say..."No! Don't stop!! Make them real!!! Keep going!"

I really have a lot of housework I could be doing. I should be painting, since thats an much more realistic way for me to succeed at something, but...I can't. I'm too weird. Too obsessed with why John would have left Nina in San Francisco and disappeared. And why he would come back...

Acrylics class #7

Today was cool- we did a quick painting of some familiar objects we used in my Art 300 drawing class. They are these crazy galvanized ducts- all funky and turning at odd angles. Heres a shoddy picture of one of my first contour drawings from last semester. We weren't allow to erase or pick up our pencils- but this shows the forms:



These were hard to do in our 10 minute painting- I really only blocked out the one I chose to paint. I'd have loved more time!!!




Then she had us do a long painting in just grey scale of the usual simple forms. This was interesting- I thought it'd be easier to do than color. There was less mixing, but much more care was needed in differentiating the value scale. I'm not done with this- I'm going to scumble in the rest of the background before I have to turn in my portfolio. I'm pretty pleased with how I did, though. The bottle in the foreground needs help, but, the values are good- so I wont touch it.



All in all it's more good practice thats really increasing my skills. I'm eating it up. And did I mention my non-sexual crush on my professor? I freaking love her!!!

Check out this old picture of me:


I remember thinking I looked really ugly here. (I was about 15...) Guess what? I was WRONG. Holy Crap. When did I get old? Ok, enough vanity. I was thinking of drawing this because of the nice values. Maybe I will...if I'm going to screw something up, it may as well be my OWN face!!

Warm weather brings back my fashion lust...

Title says it all. But you know I'm going to elaborate regardless.

It's been sunny and spring-like this week. I've bared ankles and toes and even ventured out sans-sleeves. I realize the past few months I've been in some sort of clothing depression.

Being buried under a down coat or layered in rain-proof jackets puts a serious dent in any outfit. I mean- who cares about your shirt when its snowing, or when rains is sheeting down?

I got some nice warm things this winter, but I'm thinking about dresses again. Dresses..blouses...sandals...I may even venture to the thrift store again.


I'd really like some nice vintage blouses. (not vintage, but its vintage-ish)



I want a trashed pair of jeans to cut into shorts.



And I'd love some fun dresses. (this one being an example of a shape I like)




For shoes I really want a better pair of black leather gladiator sandals. Perhaps these:


Born Macadamia


Yeah, sure I could find some more fashion-forward sandals, but I'm also a runner, and I take care of my feet. Plus, I often have to chase birds and children. Facts of life, my friends.

So, thats what's on my fashion-brain.

Another homework assignment

I'm learning a lot from these seemingly simplistic homework assignments in my painting class.

This weeks was a glazing assignment. We were to make two 9 inch by 9 inch grids, then criss cross primary color across them to overlap. One was done in paint thinned with water and the other thinned with glazing medium.

Here's the water-thinned grid:


It's definitely like water-color, for obvious reasons. Very streaky- and not very saturated.

Here's the one I thinned with Liquitex Glazing medium:


I know its not a big difference in these photos. Still a bit streaky, but more bold, more saturated. The paper stained less and the colors took to each other more easily.

Interesting.

Neatness is a big part of our grade, and thats something I REALLY struggle with. I hope these are ok.

Re-write #4

This is the little section I posted a few days ago. This is a fairly pivotal section, one of the parts I imagined over and over. That's why it was so important for me to make it good. Despite the larger plot calamities I'm facing, there are still some things I KNOW about this story, and love.

So, here's the before:

John was dressed but hadn’t showered, nor had he shaved. He had put on a button down shirt and different jeans. His eyebrows pressed downward, and his eyes were on her hand, which he was holding. He seemed to be following the paths of freckles on the back of her hand and up her arm. “Remember what you said? About the freckles?”
Nina’s heart started to throb, she knew what was coming, and wanted to press him on why he’d gotten dressed. “Blood Freckles.” She said, clearing her throat. She pulled the sheet up over her in an attempt to avert the goosebumps. She’d said it because his arms were covered in tiny red dots of blood after Jeremy shot himself. She’d been holding him on the front steps of her house as the police came. They looked like freckles.
He smiled and looked up at her. “They had had to force me to wash them off.” He looked down at her hand.
“I wouldn’t come inside that night.”
He looked up at her. “Really?”
“My dad dragged me inside, praying against whatever had possessed me. I kicked and screamed.” She looked up into his face. “I thought Jeremy was still there. I wanted to try and…talk to him.”

And the after, in which I wove a bit of the backstory in with the present. Hopefully this was successful:

John was dressed but hadn’t showered, nor had he shaved. He had put on a button down shirt and different jeans. His eyebrows pressed downward, and his eyes were on her hand, which he was holding. He seemed to be following the paths of freckles on the back of her hand and up her arm. “Remember what you said? About the freckles?”
Nina’s heart started to throb, dread rising up in her as she eyed his packed bags. “Blood Freckles.” She said, clearing her throat and shaking off the embarrassment of having said such a strange thing. The memory was as fresh as yesterday and year melted away into the day Jeremy died. After the gunshot, she dragged John to her house, her mother panicking, torn between running in and calling for help and inspecting Nina for wounds. They got to the steps outside the door of the kitchen and crumpled down onto them. Nina held John in her arms as though he was the smaller child. He held her back with shaking arms that were covered in specks of blood, gripping at her clothes.
He tilted his head to one side and looked up at her. “They had had to force me to wash them off.” He looked down at her hand, memory pressing in on his mind. His mother pleading with him to undress, to shower, to step away from the tragedy and let her comfort him. He’d refused for about an hour when his stepdad came and pushed him into the shower, causing him to fall backward, scraping the backs of his legs on the tracks for the shower door. Gary shut the doors, trapping John in the water that proceeded to stream away with the last of Jeremy. The last of Jeremy that was real.
“I wouldn’t come inside that night.” Nina said thinking further into the memory of her knees raw from sitting in the grass at the sun went down. Her parents calling her, concerned from the house after all the police and the men from the coroners office left.
He looked up at her. “Really?”
“Finally my dad dragged me inside, praying against whatever had possessed me. I kicked and screamed.” She looked up into his face. “I thought Jeremy was still there.”

Got my dose of orange lips!!!

I made my way to Sephora today, totally set on buying one particular orange lipstick, but ended up trying on about half a dozen others and settling on one perfect choice.

The one I was going to get was very matte, very opaque- super retro. But I decided on a nice gloss, as spring is coming and I wanted something fresher and more modern.

I've never even heard of this brand- Illamasqua. I got the Intense Gloss in Temper. I love it!! A nice, nice texture and a wonderful intensity of color. Just what the doctor ordered.

Forget that last re-write.

It's beyond repair from a plot stand-point. But I found another mini-section I'd like to make more potent. Its the section where the story gets it name.

John was dressed but hadn’t showered, nor had he shaved. He had put on a button down shirt and different jeans. His eyebrows pressed downward, and his eyes were on her hand, which he was holding. He seemed to be following the paths of freckles on the back of her hand and up her arm. “Remember what you said? About the freckles?”
Nina’s heart started to throb, she knew what was coming, and wanted to press him on why he’d gotten dressed. “Blood Freckles.” She said, clearing her throat. She pulled the sheet up over her in an attempt to avert the goosebumps. She’d said it because his arms were covered in tiny red dots of blood after Jeremy shot himself. She’d been holding him on the front steps of her house as the police came. They looked like freckles.
He smiled and looked up at her. “They had had to force me to wash them off.” He looked down at her hand.
“I wouldn’t come inside that night.”
He looked up at her. “Really?”
“My dad dragged me inside, praying against whatever had possessed me. I kicked and screamed.” She looked up into his face. “I thought Jeremy was still there. I wanted to try and…talk to him.”

I need to get my head back into this and figure out what to do with John. Fretting over my very own imaginary person. Somehow fitting for me.

Too tired.

I think I may be coming down with something. That, or I just need to stay home for a day. This week has been stupid. Nothing has gotten done around here and my brains all freaked out. I have all this new music I want to listen to, stuff I want to write, even a burgeoning painting in my head. But I have to be HERE to do that stuff- not in the car, not at preschool, not at moms house...ugh. I'm tired.

I need to do some plot doctoring for Blood Freckles. The further I step away from it, the more I am sure about the lameness of John's plot. In the beginning we see John having just lost his mother. Having had a couple suicide attempts in the past, he decides he's done for real, but runs into Nina. He still feels he can't handle life so he leaves Nina to go off himself.

Nina has no idea where he's gone, and moves back east, hoping maybe thats where he went. And the story progresses for her. But foe John...it's kind of on pause. Why the heck, if he really wanted to die, wouldn't he just do it? And be dead before Nina even gets on a plane? What the heck would he be waiting for? Whats he doing? It's a giant, giant hole.

And that hole makes my stomach hurt. I only have a few feeble ideas. One being that he really doesn't think he can die, but he can't bear to be with Nina, either. He can't bear to make attachments with people he knows are going to get hurt. (is that too Twilight? Damn Twilight!!)

I just don't know.

And then theres the matter of this other story, another re-write about a couple of people that have spent there lives as conservative Christians only to find themselves as lost adults with lots of questions. It kind of explores the idea that regardless of your upbringing, people are still human and human agendas find their way into lives and tend to destroy them- no matter what. I don't know. Sounds harsh, but it's not. I just find my own life of church and Christian school to be full of write-able issues.

I want to listen to the music I just got. I recently acquired Cave Singers, Diane Birch, the newest Muse album and Horse Feathers. I still have to go to preschool. Real life blows.

Acrylics class #6

Good times!! My back hurt after this class- I stood the whole time, as we painted for the entire two hours.

We are still talking about color theory, but she's trying to keep us painting constantly. I freaking love it. I seriously live for these two days a week.

The first painting we did was a 10 minute painting of a primary colored still life.


Last semester in my drawing class, there was a classmate who's work was constantly compared with mine. I think we are at a similar skill level (though he may be a bit ahead of me, really), but our approach is opposite! His drawing were very dark, very rough. Accurate, but bold. My drawing were accurate, but light, and smooth.

This semester- we sit next to each other and are finding the same thing with out paintings!! Fascinating!! His style is much more impressionistic- no lines, bold choices of color, whereas my paintings are sketch-like. I should try and take a picture of our still life's side by side. Very cool.

For this next painting we had an hour. I think I ruined it with the back ground. It's not technically done, in my eyes. The oranges through me for a loop- it was hard to get the reds right. Shadows on red are really hard to do- I could not get the right tones. And next time, I'm bringing my giant masonite clipboard so I can paint upright- my angles are BAD and the bottles are crooked. Ugh.

Homework:Finished.

Ok, this should have gotten posted last night, but it was a crazy weekend full of a lot of dancing, screaming, late night and other random wildness that rarely happens to a 30-something mother of three.

Our assignment was to make a color wheel and to create color scales from black to white with the primary colors in between. I got them done last night- I thought it might be a bit of drudgery, but it wasn't. I still love painting even when I HAVE to do it. Go figure.


I'll post about the hour-long still life we had to do at class today later on.

Current favorite outfit

You know how I hate taking pictures-thus the downfall of Backwoods Fashionista. Please forgive this horrible image I took.

That being said, I think I love this outfit. It's my romper I bought last summer, over tights and under a navy cardigan. The boots look cool with it, too. And it feels like wearing pajamas. This is day 2 in this ensemble. I'm not joking. I like it that much. I don't smell, don't worry.

BOC by Born boots, HUE cotton tights, I love Ronson romper and Kersch cardigan.

Full of ice cream

I just ate a huge bowl of ice cream with berries and whipped cream. I really need to run more, because I can't help myself from these indulgences.

My brain is bursting with scenes and ideas tonight, and it's making me kind of cranky. Sort of like when you're nursing and engorged with milk but the baby is staying with grandma. Or like carrying overfull bags of groceries and you're locked out of the house.

I need to write stuff down, however disorganized and lame.

And I STILL haven't done my homework.

Obsessed with orange liptick and other thoughts.

I so need to do my homework for my class, but, I can't right now- as I'm pretty sure it'd be a disaster involving little hands grabbing brushes and begging to help. I guess I'll wait.

Whats the orange lipstick thing? Do you know about my liptick problem? I'm completely addicted to lipstick, the idea of lipstick, the feel of lipstick, lipstick packaging and the look of lipsticked lips.

When I was a kid, my mom always got those Estee Lauder makeup kits for christmas along with her yearly perfume. I usually stole the lipsticks. One year, the kit included a bright, true orange lipstick that I LOVED. I also saw that Kat Von D has a great looking orange lipstick.

The other night, I went to the mall and tried on Bobbi Browns Rich Color gloss in Melon. I didnt buy it (since I was already buying creme eyeshadow), but I wish I had! I totally rocked it!!! It's a great, juicy color- and the formula is really, really nice. I'm not usually a gloss person, but this stuff rocks. Now, I can't stop thinking about orange, peach, coral, etc. I love me some red lips, but Orange...hmmmmm.

And probably due to the nostalgia that spending time with high school girlies brings, I'm churning plots in my head to do a re-write (yes, another one of Carolyns regurgitated stories). It's about the culture of American Christians- the good the bad and the downright ugly. And it's about being afraid of who you are and who you might be...blah, blah, blah...romance..more Carolyn stuff. I think with this story, I just like writing the beginning and nothing else. It's fun to take a break from Blood Freckles, though...which needs some serious help.

Arcylics class #5

Today's class, once I actually got there, dealt with COLOR THEORY. Did I mention how badly I need to hear this stuff??

Imagine my frustration when I was getting out of my car and locked my keys in it- along with my supplies for class. I freaked.

I checked into class and was surprised that the towing company came in 10 minutes and had the car open. Disaster averted, and I only missed a short discussion on secondary and tertiary colors. (and I had to pay $49 to the towing dude)

She had us make three color scales progressing from red to yellow, yellow to blue and blue to red.

FASCINATING. Not that it was some original idea or anything, I just really enjoyed this exercise and learned a lot from it. And color is just so darned pretty.

Rewrite #3

This section is particularly shaky. Its also some thing I may omit, eventually. Here we see John, who has a problem with visions. He sees things when he touches object. He get impressions of events, past present or future. This is an example of such a time, when he decides he's going to test it, and finds something he feels he can change.

The problem is, my writing is horrible, and I don't think I've done enough back story to this part of him to back up how this happens for him. This section is full of lame, lets see if I can't just shine it up this afternoon.

Here's the before:

An exit came up and John took it, finding it led into a small town like so many scattered along the east coast. He was at a stop light, and began to feel it- purpose, a draw towards some thread n the fabric of existence. It wasn’t visible, but it was unavoidable and he put all his mind into it. Eventually his car found itself at a pharmacy. It was a national chain, nothing special in anyway. It was crowded with people picking up household items, and there was a long line of people picking up prescriptions. He wandered up and down the aisles trying to discern what it is he was looking for. He tried picking up objects, thinking perhaps there was something wrong with a product, but he stopped when he noticed an employee watching him. He looked like a shoplifter.
John had been holding a can of tomatoes. He smiled and looked at the woman, wearing a green vest bearing the name of the store.
“Finding everything alright?” She said. She was in her mid-forties, had thick, coarse blonde hair that she’d tried to subdue into a clip of some sort.
“Yeah, I think so.” He looked at the can. “Oh- these aren’t whole tomatoes? I’d better get crushed ones…” He put the can back and grabbed a different one.
The woman held out a hand-held shopping basket. “Here, this will help.” She smiled.
Everything went grey when he touched the handle. The sides of his visual plane warped up and he could see the woman…but it wasn’t her, it was a younger version of her. She was walking, somewhere, maybe an office building. When he caught a better look at her face he could see it wasn’t the drug store woman at all, but perhaps a a relative of her. The vision shifted, following the veins of the day- where this other woman had gone, and where she’d come from. A blue house with vinyl siding. Children. And beside the blue house, a huge, doomed propane tank. He could see the hose connecting it to the house, the painted words of the fuel company on the tank. And he could feel the normal panic that accompanied these sights.
John looked up and the woman was gone. He looked up into the mirrors that lined the ceilings and saw her heading towards the break room. He bolted towards her, catching her on the shoulder before she wen through swinging doors into the back of the store. Touching her shoulder gave him even more detail. “Luann?”
She turned around, startled. “Excuse me?”
“Luann, are you Luann?”
“No…” She narrowed her eyes at him.
John shifted his weight. “Who IS Luann, then?”
“What is this about?” She looked into the same ceiling mirrors John had used to find her, looking for another employee.
“I’m sorry to bother you- I’m not from here. But…I know that something is going ot happen to Luann.”
“What are you talkng about?”
“It’s a propane tank- it’s leaking. She shouldn’t go home, unless she gets it fixed. If it blows…the house could be destroyed. It…it looks like she has children…”
The employee, whose name tag read “Georgia” stared at John with wide eyes. She laughed awkwardly. “Who are you?”
“My name is John. I’m just passing through. I don’t know how to explain how I know, and I don’t expect you to trust a stranger, I mean, I don’t know if I would. But, all I’m saying is…this person…Luann-”
“She’s my little sister.” Georgia voice quavered. She looked at John intently. “How…”
“I know. It’s just one of those things. I can’t explain it, I just….saw it when you handed me the basket.”
“She’s in Oklahoma.”
“Can you call her?”
“I can call her at work, I guess. The kids should be at school…” She let her voice trail off. There was a pay phone in the hall behind her. She rushed to it and used a calling card to pay for the time. “I know, honey….I know. I’m just saying- call someone to go look at it. I know, I’ll…I’ll even pay for it, if thats the problem, I’ll send you a check if I’m wrong.” Georgia looked at John who was leaning against the adjacent wall.

This afternoon, I will work on the "after". The biggest problem is the fact that this scene is rushed. (blame it on the whole, "novel in one month" thing, I guess) Theres no reason why this woman wouldn't assume Johns some sort of maniac who's trying to kill her sister. I thought I'd crafted it well enough to avoid this feeling, but, I now see that not true. Hmmm....what to do, what to do...

Acrylics class #4

Today we did more short paintings of primary colored still life, and watched a short painting demonstration by my professor (on whom I have a non-sexual crush).

It was great to be REALLY shown how someone experienced starts a painting. And she showed us some little tricks about managing the paint on your palette, the problems of yellow paint, etc. I'm eating it up!!!

Here's today's 20 minute painting on Bristol primed with Gesso:


I like parts of this. The time limit does just that- it limits the ability to fix anything or add detail, but it's such a great challenge to have to get the info down accurately (or convincingly, at least). I like the sphere- or sphere-ish thing. I like the color combo. I don't mind my bottles. The cone needs help. The blue here is not accurate to the blue in real life on the form- this is Cyan and it's probably closer to Phthalo Blue...oh well.

Our homework is to paint 3 value scales using 10 one-inch square progressing from white to black in blue, yellow and red. I'm sure it's harder than it sounds.

A great weekend, and some great anticipation

This last weekend was such a blast, I'm having trouble being normal again. I really enjoyed being free of responsibility. I enjoyed the freedom of speech, the giggling, the change in environment and stupid things like driving alone for a long stretch of time.

I went away with my high school friends and rented a house on Tomales Bay, which is near Point Reyes, CA. If you are a mother- please get away like this. It' invaluable for your sanity. And I just love my friends- there's not too much time in real day-to-day life to just laugh until you hurt. It's as good as therapy. (not that I've ever had any therapy, actually...)

Its also important to know people- REALLY know people. I am lucky to have two groups of girls in my life with whom such honesty exists- these girls from high school, and my friends up where I live. I'm blessed.

Today for my painting class, our homework was to prime two sheets of 18 by 24 Bristol board with 2 coats of Gesso and bring to class. I'm excited to see what we'll be painting on them- and whether or not I did it right!

And in other news, I'm re-inspired to write after this weekend. One of my friends is actually reading this blog and gave me a bit of feedback on my Novel excerpt! I had no idea you were reading, Jo!!! It re-ignited my sort of discouraged thoughts about this book...I think when I get home today, I'll do a bit of typing...