33.
below is the art challenge from http://rosy-artblog.blogspot.com/2009/08/its-art-challenge-time.html
She offered three pix to use for artwork, and I chose her cute mom Juanita.
Sorry, Juanita, that I couldn't quite nail it, but it was fun trying.

Bummer week...recuperating from my fall...on pain pills that just take the edge off...lotsa napping..using cane...not wanting to do anything.
Better today but not walking around.
Perusing through the photo album, came across a favorite pix of mine taken in about 1932 of my mother in law, Ethel. I always liked her hairdo and the dress...so I sketched it....Then I came upon a picture of me taken sixty some years later with the same hairstyle.
Well, I guess there's only so many ways a gal can wear her hair.
Hurts to sit here so gotta go....but hurts to sit there, too.

31,
Had an adventure today. I was in the dog kennels washing out their water pails when I tripped on the hose and fell down.
Shock...pain...Sally took off, but Bekka stayed and barked and growled...she was locked behind a gate so she had freedom to the yard but not to me.
I lay there tensing this muscle and that...trying to determine the damage....nothing broken.
I just leaned against the fence, still gasping...hose running all over the place, when it dawned on me I couldn't get up.
First time in my life that I fell and was helpless.
First shock...pity...desperation, and finally anger.
Jack wasn't home.
Usually I get on my knees and get up, but my knees were scraped, bleeding, and bruised and one was already double size. And, there was no grass...only concrete and gravel.
A bleeding gash on my arm...from the fence, I guess, though I don't know how.
Everything hurt...ankles, wrists, shoulders, side. What in the devil was I going to do...
I decided to get to the front porch steps. I knew I could turn backwards and hoist myself up on the first step with my arms, grab the rail and stand up....but the steps were across the yard....gravel driveway all the way.
Ok...just do it!
I fanny bumped my self along...the heels of my hands bleeding from the rocks...my clothes slowly shredding.
shut up and just do it!
bump...slide...bump...slide...
Four feet from the step, and Jack pulled into the driveway.
There I sat in the middle of the driveway smiling at him...(to show absolutely nothing was wrong, just bumping along for the fun of it....dang...I had wanted to be on my feet and cleaned up when he got home.
Funny how much worse you feel with sympathy....
We got into the house, pulled off my wet, dirty, torn clothes...grabbed a clean mumu and the disinfectant and a towel...and collapsed into a chair.
He brought me a full glass of wine.
That was four hours ago and oh my...my nose is the only place not aching...but I am so happy nothing was broken.

30.

colored pencil on off white bristol,
too large for scanner
When Beans, (pinto) and her twin foals came racing into the ranch with the rest of the band my jaw literally dropped. I hadn't seen her up close for about a year...watched from the hill with the glasses, checking up on the herd, but hadn't noticed from that distance she was expecting.
She came tearing down off the hill, head high, proud as a peacock, and who could blame her. Two spotted babies marked every bit as pretty as she was raced along side her....god I hope they hadn't inherited any of their witchy mother's tendencies. She was the most godawful horse I ever owned, bar none.
Would not be tamed, period. Kicked down every fence I put her behind...she wound up living in the bull pen....she couldn't faze the logs that fence was made of. I should have gotten rid of her a long time ago, but she was so pretty I just liked looking at her.
I hurried down to the pens to get a closer look at the newest addition to the horse band. (excerpt from Pony Crossing..which will never be finished, I'm afraid.....ahh me...so much to do, and soaps to watch, too)

cradle boards are art work to me, and to many Native Americans. I started a color book of the different styles...but the book was longer than my span of attention so it languishes, crying to be finished.

This drawing isn't typical of the color book drawings...they are straight line drawings with designs to color.

I contacted Martha Berry, a Cherokee bead work artist for information and she told me that the Cherokees didn't use cradle boards...interesting. I haven't looked into how they contained their babies but will.

I like the idea of making everyday utensils artwork. Harpoons and kayak paddles decorated with charms for good hunting...cradleboards with beadwork beckoning the good spirits. Everyday clothing made of bright colors and designs....not cool, I guess.

28.

slowly floating up out of a black place, I see gray......no sunlight, but somewhere light is finding its way in....I come up from two days with the blanket over my head, and wander out into the yard looking for a reason to hang around. A little gray lizard stopped to talk to me...he asked to be painted sky blue...he never wanted to be gray in the first place...

Tell me about it, I say.

Great, a gray lizard is my muse......figures.

Not Iris, the rainbow queen, nor a bubbly water nymph, just a little gray guy.

but, I like him....he looks me in the eye and sympathizes...the least I can do is immortalize him.

Listing my blessings does not help. This is not feeling sorry for my self...this is an imbalance inherited from my family. I am middle of the road...neither the worst off of them, nor the best.

Trying to figure out why I'm hiding under his desk, the doctor asks, Does your husband abuse you? (He's constantly fiddling with his new computer.)

NO...and DO NOT ASK ME THAT AGAIN. I've told you before we're fine....but he follows the program on his computer, asking the same old questions....I flip through my magazine in the dark shadows. He never looks at me.

(Have you lost any weight?

Yes, I now weigh a hundred and three.

Good, he says, still not looking at well nourished me, and dutifully types it in.)

(in my dreams)

It is what it is

27.


colored pencil on bristol board
My favorite plant...hen and chickens

tiled in Photoshop

My garden is not doing well...it's actually only in existence because as soon as I finished making my teeny fishpond, I was still raring to go...so started a garden growing around the pond.
This is the second full year and the poor soil is doing its work. Then our week of triple digit temps curled the leaves of my poor hosta, and melted my ice plant.
About the only things doing really well are the daisies and the dragonflies.

I'll have to admit the garden looks a little lush in this picture but walk around the paths and you'll see the ailing little patients.
the little wire fence around the pond is crooked because of Bekka's constant lizard hunt....without the fence, I'd have a pond full of rocks.

Eventually, only the things that do well will remain...the survival of the fittest is my motto....I'd like to find a little garden plaque saying just that and stick it out there to give them fair warning...no wimps in my garden!
(hard woman)