First: Beware of the PepsiCokeSodaPop machine in the cafeteria, for it produces PepsiCokeSodaPops randomly. I was trying to get a Mello-w Yello-w, but instead was offered a diet cherry Coke. Not the same thing at all, nope, nope, nope.
As for the diet cherry PepsiCokeSodaPop itself, the less said of it the better. How do people drink this shit? It tastes not entirely unlike carbonated kerosene.
Kill me now.
I don’t know why I’m so fascinated by these Cosmos flowers. There’s something about the contrast of the egg-yolky centers (appropriate, as that’s where the ovaries are located) with the purple petals. This one was starting to show a bit of early evening shadowing, which helped accentuate the slight ridging along the length of the petals. You can also see a faint scattering of pollen. The bees and butterflies had already paid this blossom a visit.
Speaking of the cosmos, members of the International Astronomical Union are expected to determine that there are 12 planets. Pluto, whose planetary designation has long been challenged, will hopefully remain a planet, along with his brother, Charon. Ceres could be elevated from asteroid to planet, as well. The inclusion of the catchy 2003 UB313 (popularly known as Xena) would bring the number of planets to 12.
My Very Educated Mother Just Served Us Nine Pickles may soon need a little tweaking.
Bumblebee on Joe Pye
First: Happy Birthday, Andy! And, Happy Ides of August to everyone else.
It’s a shpadoinkle day in the neighborhood, with bright blue skies, puffy, little clouds, and soft, warm breezes. The humidity has gone down, too, thankfully. It was thoroughly disgusting yesterday, raining on and off all day with a heavy mist that never cleared. August in Indiana is for those who wear gills.
Of course, since it was humid yesterday, I decided to prime two boards for painting. It took forever for the primer to dry, so I didn’t get around to doing any actual painting yesterday. We’ll see if I get to it today. It’s looking good, though! I’m thinking they’ll be abstracts, because I’ve been wanting to do some sloppy, drippy work. They’re kind of large, though, and I don’t have a good space to work on big, messy projects.
I’m really hoping that, when I get around to moving, I can find a place with decent studio space. I was assuming that a small, two-bedroom house would be sufficient, but now I’m reconsidering. It may be that a one-bedroom house with an attached garage would be better. That way, I could use the garage as work space. I just don’t know. Waffle, waffle, waffle…
Harriet isn’t a huge fan of toys. She loves her red ball and she’s got plenty of bones for chewing, but other than that, she prefers to play with me. She does enjoy an occasional woobie, though. Usually, she quickly guts them and removes the squeakers. Woobies don’t last very long. Until now, that is.
I picked up a new woobie a few days ago. Harriet has yet to even tear it. She’s been playing with it on and off, and has had a few silly games of toss-the-woobie, but so far, she hasn’t de-squeakered it, or even torn it open. Mostly, she’s been using it as a pillow.
What She Kept
mixed media: collage (brass beads, 35mm negative, yearbook photo, obituary photo, movie ticket stub, and fragment from 1854 patent book), drawing (India ink), and crackle glaze on 90lb Stonehenge paper
5 1/8 x 5 1/2 inches
Mask I
collage (dried leaf, fragment from dictionary, fortune, diary key, and brass brad) on 90lb Stonehenge paper dyed with instant coffee
3 1/2 x 2 1/2 inches
Mask II
collage (fragment from dictionary, altered Polaroid photo, and mirror) on 90lb Stonehenge paper dyed with instant coffee
3 1/2 x 2 1/2 inches
Little Boat
collage (fragments from dictionary colored with Portfolio water-soluble crayons) on 90lb Stonehenge paper dyed with instant coffee
3 3/4 x 5 1/2 inches
These are all rather on the bitty side. Most of my paintings are fairly large, so it’s weird to work on such a small scale. It feels more intimate, though, which makes for a nice change.
My neighbor is getting ready to sell her house. She asked me to come over and lend some moral support while she took photos of it. She recently got a new camera, and because it’s similar to mine, I offered to share some of the tricks I’ve learned. Not that Miss I’m Not Artistic needed any help, mind you. When we were finished, we checked out the photos she’d taken, and they are lovely. Mine, alas, did not turn out so well. That’s how it goes sometimes. The pixel gods may smile upon you one day, and abandon you the next.
I did get some nice flower photos, though, and a couple of her pond. While I was wandering around the flowers, I noticed a big, fat bumblebee amidst the joe pye. He reminds me a little bit of a chenille pipe cleaner.
I mentioned that I recently down-graded my parking permit from an A to a C? It basically means I now have to park on the other side of the lot, which ends up being a difference of only a few feet. The only reason I originally opted for an A tag was that my schedule used to be different, and it was difficult to find a C spot in the library lot when I got to work later in the morning. At 6am, that’s not a problem.
For the past few weeks, I’ve been parking in the C lot, and all’s been fine. I even found a nice, big tree to park under. I didn’t stop to look at what kind of tree–it provided shade and that’s all that mattered.
Until yesterday, that is. Yesterday, it stormed. When the storm hit, the wind got gusty and started blowing things around. There were no tree-limbs-falling-on-cars or anything that drastic. However, on my way home, I noticed a strange car noise. Strange car noises are generally a Very Bad Thing. This noise was intermittent, so it took me a while to figure out what it was. Every time I went around a curve, or up or down a hill, something clattered. And then it dawned on me. I’d been parking under an oak tree. The storm must have blown a bunch of acorns off the tree, one of which was now trapped in my roof rack! Duh.
So now I’m stuck with this noisy little passenger, because I can’t reach the top of my car to remove it.
(Photo: I stopped at the mailboxes the other morning to take a picture of mist rising from the creek at the bottom of the far ridge. The sun was coming up, and I noticed a lone pigeon perched on a power line.)
It’s bad enough that folks don’t turn off their cell phone ringers (as they were recently instructed to do!) and that they don’t go out into the hallway to take calls (as they were also instructed to do!), but twice today, two different coworkers have taken calls that were so damned loud I could make out every single word from the person they were talking to. How rude!
Mist Rising from Fish Creek
Folks, if you’re going to slather yourself in scented products, please, for the love of all that is good in this world, stay away from the ones that smell like baby powder. Do you really want to go around reeking of something that is so closely associated with the smell of dirty diapers? Because if you think it’s a good idea for a grown human to smell like a baby’s ass, I’m here to tell you that it’s not.
I just returned from the kitchenette, where someone reeked to high heavens of baby powder. All I have to say is that, to anyone who has actually had a baby or has spent much time caring for one, baby powder smells like ass. I think we can all agree that eau d’ass is an odor that has no business in a kitchen. M’kay?
