Airing The Dirty Laundry...

When I was a really little girl, I used to love reading about movie stars. To me, they were like royalty. They lived in beautiful houses -- with swimming pools -- they wore gorgeous clothes and generally had perfect lives. Or so I thought. Any hint of impropriety was just that -- a hint. It was all part of the fantasy. Movie stars didn't live "normal" lives like the rest of us. They were never the noisy neighbors who got drunk and had fights, while the rest of the neighbors closed their curtains and pretended they couldn't hear them.

Or so we thought.

I'm not sure I like the new transparency that has been forced onto celebrities by the paparazzi and by sleazy media sites such as TMZ and Radar Online. But the genie is out of the bottle, and we are given a view into these folks private lives. Having said that, wouldn't you think they would want to present a better face to the world? Don't these people care that everyone can see their dirty laundry? Unfortunately, there is no such thing as privacy anymore. When Alex Baldwin or Mel Gibson leave repulsive and sickening messages on folks' voice mail, don't they realize it will go viral in a matter of minutes? When Lindsay Lohan or Paris Hilton, or any other bimbo du jour gets drunk or stoned, throws up and passes out -- on camera -- don't they realize that those pictures will be on the internet -- forever? No amount of cosmetics or plastic surgery can enhance a mug shot.

What are these people thinking?

I don't know about anyone else, but I prefer not to see people -- anyone -- descending into dissoluteness. It should be kept private, whether it's the neighbors or the previous year's Oscar winners. If I hear one more news story about Lindsay Lohan's addictions, bad behaviour and jail sentence, or Mel Gibson's dirty laundry and foul mouth, I think I will throw a shoe through my television set. And then I'll probably get arrested for violence.

Watch for my mug shot.

What's Your Name...?

For the first few years that I was blogging, I always responded personally to everyone's comment on my blog. But in recent months I have stopped doing that, because I was never sure if anyone checked back to read my responses to them. It seems to be sort of a mixture of folks who respond, and those who don't. I prefer an interactive sort of exchange, and I miss doing that. So, I will probably resume the practice of responding to those wonderful folks who do take the time to post a comment on my boring-little-blog.

Having said that, there is one thing I would like to know. "What is your name?" I would prefer to address people by their names, rather than -- say -- "Lollipops and Roses", or "Fear of Clowns", or "Terrific in Timbuktu", or whatever your blog title might be.

If you scroll down my blog -- way down there on my sidebar -- you will see I have added as many names as I know to all of your blog titles. Maybe you don't want folks to know your real name, and I understand that.  But if you don't have a problem with it, I would love to know your name -- first names only.  I have found over the course of blogging that I have gotten to know some of you very well.  Your "voices" are all definitely very different.  Blogging can be very personal and at the same time it can be almost detached.   It's a strange dichotomy.  We become close friends with people whom we may not recognize if we were to pass them on the street.  We see people come and go, we watch new bloggers blossom, while others die on the vine -- sometimes literally -- and we always feel a sense of connection.  We find ourselves caring about the things that happen in their lives, with their jobs, their families, their hobbies, their health -- all the while not knowing most of their names.  So, if you feel comfortable telling me your name, I would love to able to address you by your name when I respond to your comments.  It doesn't have to be your real name.

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet."

   ... William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

Like A Duck Out Of Water...

This is my most recent drawing, my little wooden duck. It's done with pastels, charcoal and Conté crayon.  I collect ducks. Yes, I do. I love ducks. I have a brass duck, two wooden ducks, a wooden goose and two brass geese. I love the way a wooden duck looks sitting on a bookcase, amongst the books. Ducks just seem to be so -- Canadian -- somehow. So this little duck is from my collection, and I decided to attempt a drawing of him. I was quite happy with how he turned out.

Behold the duck.
It does not cluck.
A cluck it lacks.
It quacks.
It is specially fond
Of a puddle or pond.
When it dines or sups,
It bottoms ups.

... Ogden Nash

This drawing thing is starting to become a habit. I just might have to give up my day job. :-)

C'est Fini ... My Antique Coffee Pot ...

Well, here it is -- the finished product -- the drawing of my little battered, antique coffee pot. This little pot has been through the wars, and almost did not survive. My mother and my sister-in-law made coffee in it one day, and sat chatting while it boiled dry and scorched. But I saved it and brought it back to life. For some strange reason it is one of my little treasures, and has a place of honor in my kitchen.

I had so much fun drawing it, I'm looking around for more items to draw. It's really the simple, everyday things in our lives that touch a chord with me. I'll never paint the grand masterpiece, but I enjoy sketching little found objects. This was done with colored pencil, pastel and charcoal. I rather like it.

Have a great Sunday, everyone.

The Joys Of Stumping...

Just in case you're wondering where I have been lately -- and you probably aren't -- I have been doing some stumping. What is that, you ask?   Stumping is a technique of "blending or rubbing in deposits of dry colour from chalk, charcoal or pastel, using a roll of leather or paper known as a stump. Approximately a finger's length and diameter, with a stubby conical or domed point at either end, the stump duplicates the action of a fingertip but allows more control." Well, here is the start of my latest effort.  I have a wonderful little enamel coffee pot that is so old, the dinosaurs made coffee in it, and I have always wanted to draw it.  I go through phases where I don't draw for weeks, months, years, and then I get motivated again.  The beautiful sea breezes are blowing through my tree house, the seagulls are squawking ... "mine! mine! mine!" ... and it's a perfect day for drawing.  I'll be back to show you the finished product.

Have a fabulous weekend, everyone.

Do Animals Play...?

Evocation of Butterflies
Odilon Redon
1911

Yesterday evening I watched a butterfly outside my treehouse, dancing on the wind for at least an hour.  It swooped and fluttered back and forth through the trees, and not once during the whole time did it settle on anything, but rather just sailed through the air with butterfly joy.  Earlier in the afternoon I watched a seagull at Kitsilano Beach, as it swam and bobbed in the water -- all alone.  He was obviously having fun, and I thought I heard him chuckling as he rode the surf.

I do believe animals enjoy a beautiful idyllic day as much as we do.  In the summer, the seagulls can clearly be heard telling jokes to each other, and laughing heartily as they soar through the air, chasing each other.  Their joie de vivre is unmistakable and very real.

The little butterfly last night was having a wonderful time, and as I watched him I was reminded of the poem by Wordsworth that we learned in grade eight.

I've watched you now a full half-hour,
Self-poised upon that yellow flower;
And, little Butterfly! indeed
I know not if you sleep or feed.
How motionless! - not frozen seas
More motionless! and then
What joy awaits you, when the breeze
Hath found you out among the trees,
And calls you forth again!

To a Butterfly ... William Wordsworth

Some Things I Have Learned Today...

Today I learned ... if you and the other women in the office are going to chat about how handsome the new, young, resident doctor is, make sure he is not standing right behind you.

I learned if you receive a group e-mail stating a new policy whereby employees cannot wear sandals to work due to safety reasons, and you reply saying, "Well, that's just silly... we work in an office...", make sure you don't hit "reply all". *Oops* It seems that everyone agreed with me, and today everyone is wearing sandals.

And last, but not least, I learned that if you've had a rough day and want a good night's sleep, don't eat baked beans for dinner. They're delicious, they're nutritious, but ...

Have a fabulous day, everyone.

And They Flew Through The Air With The Greatest Of Ease...

Summer has finally arrived here in British Columbia, and during the summer there is no more beautiful place to be than at Sproat Lake on Vancouver Island.  I was fortunate to spend my summers growing up there.  Sproat Lake has over 200 miles of shoreline, and is known for its warm water.  We used to swim in Sproat Lake from Easter weekend until Thanksgiving day.  My friend Fae's parents had property on the lake and their family lived there all year round.  At the first hint of spring, Bonnie, Fae, Sherry, Ann and I would go swimming.

I remember one year when we were about 14 or 15 years old, we were lying on the dock leading to the boathouse, and the two boys next door, Doug and Gordon, and their friends Randy, Gary and Bill decided to start showing off by jumping off the roof of their boathouse.  Of course, we all pretended not to notice, lying there completely insoucient and nonchalant.  We were far too mature to notice the antics of silly boys.  However, one by one, as the boys jumped off the boathouse, they lost their bathing trunks in mid air.  It was like a perfectly choreographed ballet, and the shrieks of the girls could be heard echoing across 200 miles of shoreline.  The loons took up the cacophony for what seemed like ten minutes, while the boys picked up their bathing suits and ran into the boathouse.

Whenever we get together, someone always says, "Remember that time...?"  That was when we discovered that men, bless their souls, really are funny -- even when they're trying not to be.

I have a feeling it's going to be a beautiful summer.  Go out and make some memories.

Ordinary Objects...

Well, I take it all back. Pencil sketches can be masterpieces. At the Vancouver Art Gallery on Thursday I saw an exhibit of the most wonderful pencil, charcoal, pastel and conte crayon drawings done by Monet, Manet, Renoir, Seurat, Redon, and so many more of the Impressionist painters. I was gobsmacked at the simplicity and beauty of them, particularly the charcoal sketches. I have never worked in charcoal before, so I bought myself some pencils, and decided to give it a try. I did a little video of the work in progress:



And here is the finished product, which is embarrassingly bad, but I learned a lot of things as I went along, one of which is "less is more".  Too much charcoal is not necessarily better than not enough...  But, it's a start, and it's a lot of fun.  Just don't expect to see my work on the wall of an art gallery any time soon.

The "Jo" Proust Questionnaire...

One of my favorite magazines is Vanity Fair, and the first section I always read is the Proust Questionnaire.  It's fun to find out about people -- not what is their favorite color, or what kind of dog do they have -- but the really concrete things in their psyches.  People are so complex, and so different from one another in many aspects, and so similar in many others.  Often when I read the Proust Questionnaire, I am amazed at how similar I am to the particular individual being interviewed.  So, for absolutely no reason whatever except that it's fun, here is the "Jo" interview of the Proust Questionnaire.

What is your idea of perfect happiness?
A beautiful summer day, great company, beside the ocean or a lake.

What is your greatest fear?
Not leaving my mark in the world, and being forgotten.

What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
Impatience.

What is the trait you most deplore in others?
Egotism.

What is your most marked characteristic?
My laugh.

What is your greatest extravagance?
Books.

What is your current state of mind?
Hopeful.

What do you consider the most overrated virtue?
Meekness.

On what occasion do you lie?
To spare someone's feelings.

What is the quality you most like in a man?
Strength.

What is the quality you most like in a woman?
Strength.

Which words or phrases do you most overuse?
Omigawd.

What or who is the greatest love of your life?
He knows.

When and where were you happiest?
Right now.

Which talent would you most like to have?
To play the piano.

What is your most treasured possession?
My father's books.

What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?
Worrying.

What is your favorite occupation?
Artist.

What is your most marked characteristic?
I don't suffer fools gladly.

What do you most value in your friends.
Understanding.

Which living person do you most admire?
My friend Lulu.

Who is your favorite hero of fiction.
Doc in Cannery Row.

Who are your heroes in real life.
Volunteers.

What is it that you most dislike.
Anger.

What is your greatest regret?
Not going to university.

How would you like to die?
Being hit by a bus at the age of 100 while riding my bike.

What is your motto?
"Lighten up..."

Now ... if you would like to do the Proust Questionnaire too, I would love to hear your answers.