I was in my twenties, recently graduated from college and, like countless art majors before me, waiting tables for a living. Lunches in a place downtown near the courthouse. Served the legal crowd.
It wasn’t a bad gig. I made enough money to survive and had plenty of time for art.
But I was surviving, not living. I shared a 1920s duplex in the student ghetto across the street from the university. My neighbors were other students, winos, hookers and over medicated residents of halfway houses.
I walked everywhere out of necessity. Or rode my bike. It cost too much to run my car, even with 25 cents per gallon gas at the cheap place. I paid cash for everything and lived close to the bone. My car sat in the driveway for months at a time. Someone broke into it once. Smashed out the window and pulled out the ignition. Trying to steal it, I guess. Not much of a car thief, couldn’t even hot wire a 69 VW Bug.
‘Wino’ probably isn’t pc these days. But that’s what they were. Guys who sat in the bushes alongside the buildings, or on the curb, drinking from bottles in brown paper bags. Some of them were friendly. Even polite. Some were interesting to talk to. One of ’em offered me some peppermint schnapps. Another took a crap on the bumper of my car.
City living.
I remember walking home from work one day. I was all sorts of cranky, for one reason or another. The six blocks of urban wasteland between my job and my house was always challenging but this day even more so. I was tired of panhandlers and crazies. Tired of the hookers, the boys in sequins looking prettier than me. I walked with that thousand yard stare, refusing to make eye contact or acknowledge anyone. I just wanted to get HOME.
Get away from me people. Shoo. Don’t bother me. Not today. NOT EVER AGAIN!!!
I was about two blocks from home, marching in my self-rightous huff when a woman suddenly veered into my space. Got right up into my face. Scared the bejezus outta me. Seriously. She was one of the regulars on the street. And she was as crazy as a loon.
“Fix your skirt.” And then she was gone. Poof, just like that.
Fix my skirt? I looked down and holy crap! The static fairy had done a number on me. My skirt was up around my waist….
Sigh… Well, that’s kind of how I felt today, thirty-somethin’ years later. Exposed. Like I’m walking around and don’t know that I’m nearly naked. Only this time it’s in cyberland.
I’m building a new website for the nonprofit where I work. I was showing my supervisor what I had so far and it was looking good. Real good. Then I said, let’s look at it on the pc, just because… We both use Macs, you see. So she pulled it up on the pc and it looked. like. shit.
Seriously. Nothing lined up. Large luscious photos were little bitty limbaugh weenies icons. Nothin’ to ’em. The columns were catty wumpus, the layout all screwed up. WTF???
So I decided to check out my site. AAWK. My beautiful site that I worked so hard to get just right, that is out for the world to see 24/7, was not the way it looks on my Mac.
I drove home thinking OMG!!! Do I have to rebuild everything? Start from scratch? And then the logic fairy paid a visit. She doesn’t come that often so when she does I listened up. Usually. Logic fairy thought maybe it’s the browser.
Browser? I use Chrome. But I have Firefox and Safari on my computer as well. So I did a test. Opened them up, pulled up the website and IT LOOKED NORMAL.
YAY!!!
The pc uses Explorer. Knowing where I work, it’s probably an old edition. But maybe not. So here’s where you can help.
This is a screen shot of my home page. Part of it anyway but enough to give you the idea. This is what it’s SUPPOSED to look like. If it DOESN’T look like this on your computer would you please contact me and let me know. And tell me the details. Computer, browser…that stuff. I’d be forever grateful and appreciate you to no end.
Because really, I’m not the kind of girl who walks around cyberland with my skirt up around my waist. At least I hope I’m not.
This weekend I was checking out a blog, Living in the Moment. Oh my sweetums…lo and behold, the subject was about…well, if you’re a regular reader of my Wednesday Random Acts of Art posts, you might have an idea of where I’m going with this.
TA TA–and you’d be RIGHT! Kristne Dubuque Ortega discovered, if not a Random Act of Art, a random act of luvvvv. You can read about it here. Go ahead. Read it RIGHT NOW. Really. Do. I’ll wait. And when you come back we’ll have a talk.
And jump up and down waving our arms and doing backflips because now you KNOW, without a doubt, how COOL it is when someone finds an unexpected little treasure. Something hidden but not quite hidden by a stranger.
Our little Random Acts of Art can make a difference in someone’s day. There, that’s our talk. Now on to business…
We’ll start today with a couple of contributions from sister Marjorie Ellen in Norway.
This first one was left in what normal people call a theater but Norwegians call the movie house. Very civilized, look…flowers. I don’t know the name of the movie. Or if sister M.E. had popcorn. I hope she did. With lots of butter and salt.
This one is extra special. She left it in the mailbox of a friend with a broken heart. I would make all sorts of heart emoticons here but I haven’t figured out how to do that.
Now it’s my turn and I have a confession. I didn’t get out much this week. Had a couple of snow days. Some work from home days. And a whole lot of painting going on down in Studio Grande. I did get some heARTs out but I decided to hide right here around the Porterosa. Because my family deserves love too, right?
The first one was a blatant gift for Mr. Spouse, he who is building the new, improved Studio Grande. A token of my appreciation left on the chop saw. He was honored. Well no, he was perplexed. After all, he couldn’t hammer it, chop it or eat it. But he decided to keep it somewhere special among his tools. So he said. He is a most romantic man. I suspect he’ll find it again in a few weeks, scratch is head and wonder where this came from.
I do so love him.
Now this second one has quite a story behind it. I had a rock in my pocket with the intention of driving into town and making an art drop. I was walking down to the barn, mulling over where I would go for the next random art drop. That’s when I felt the humm. It’s a vibration, really. Starts deep in the bones and resonates out through the soft tissue and then you hear it…angel voices in the wind.
The chimes we hung in the oak grove.
I forgot about the barn and headed down the path to the place where the deer bed down. The place where Mama wanted us to bury her ashes, along with those of my Dad. As I approached the circle of moss covered boulders, the hum I was feeling gave way to the soft gong of the chimes. Slowly, one distinct note at a time. As I stood next to the tree that holds the chimes that hang over the rocks where my parents are, the clapper began dancing in the wind-that-was-not and I KNEW that the right and perfect place for the rock in my pocket was right there. In the fork of the tree.
Because Mama was telling me, hey, why drive all the way into town when you can spread some of the luvvvvvvvvv right here.
So I did. Seems I listen to my mom better now that she’s on the other side.
Those were my Random Acts of Art this week. And Margie from Norway. You got any this week? This is a blog hop for those of you who have some Random Acts of Art you want to share. Click below (above the comments) where it says “you are next…click here to enter” and follow the directions to enter your URL. The link list remains open until Saturday 11:59 Pacific Time, USA. Oh, and remember, this week is when daylight savings begins here in the US. If you don’t have a blog and want to join us next week, send me your photos anytime before Tuesday night and I’ll add them to my post.
Help spread the word! Tell your friends. Click the social share buttons down below. We are spreading the luvvvvv around the world, one arty token at a time.
I wasted an entire day…no, no…an entire weekend, being pissed off at Rush Limbaugh. I could’ve been painting. Could’ve written sixteen posts. But no, I just HAD to have an internal dialoguemonologuefreakin’ argument with the man Jon Stewart calls America’s cold shower.
To me he is a non-person. I’ve tuned him out for years. He’s nothing more than a loudmouthed bully with a microphone. The sixth grade kid no one likes so he hangs out with the third graders and picks on the kindergarten kids. Calls ’em babies before kicking ’em in the shins, stealing their lunch money and running away. He verbally brutalized Chelsea Clinton when she was 12 years old. Takes a real big man to make mean spirited ‘fun’ of a little girl. Bark! Bark! We get it Rush, you’re a J.E.R.K. And I bet your mother was real proud of you when you made fun of Michael J. Fox’s Parkinson’s tremors. Snicker snicker. Yeah, that’s funny alright, you pill popping EFFING MORON….
Deep breath here because this cigar chomping, pill popping entertainer as his followers call him is in reality the VOICE of the conservative movement in this country.
God. Help. Us.
But this time he’s gone too far. For three days he savaged the reputation of a young woman. For three days he called her name after outrageous name, ripping her a new one from the safety of his studio. Lie after ignorant lie. What he didn’t realize, because he REALLY is a dumb fuck, he was offending, no no, make that alienating the majority of women in this country. And the men who love them.
Reality check: Bye-bye sponsors.
Reality check: Bye-bye stations
Reality check: Bye-bye Miss American Pie GOP.
You did good, Rush. Real good. Between you and the ditto droid cult that defends you there’s no denying anymore the misogyny that is rampant in the conservative movement. In the folks who want to take us back to the 11th century.
Well, you know what?
We’re not going.
But we’ll wave bye-bye as you lead ’em over the cliff.
This one was photographed in natural light and is closer to the right color than the one from yesterday. Maybe it’s somewhere in between the two. There will be some glazes but other than that I think this one is done.
Now…studio news. Mr. Spouse spent a good deal of the weekend walking around the roof. Hammering and sawing. Getting ready for Mr. Bob who will install the skylights this week. I helped by keeping out of his way. At his request. We make a good team, Mr. Spouse and I. A good team.
Next weekend it’s the roof.
Here’s an interior shot. Stuff going on, wires. Gas pipe. Nothing dramatic as far as photos go…but necessary boringness.
Then came the idea. But first you have to flip the layers around.
Here it is almost finished. Almost. I’m looking at the photo and thinking ohhh, I could do this. And this. So don’t be surprised if I come back next week with an other edition. It’s all about evolving. And experimenting. And having fun with it.
Technical info: 3’X4′, acrylic on canvas. Seems like acrylic brings out the whimsey in me. Not sure why. My absolute favorite part? The two horses running along the top right. Got a loosey-goosey feel to them that I want to pursue.
