dog park

I didn't know this swinging mutt personally, but I did know and love Max, a dear friend from here in the hood. They both prove there's more to life than just the old scratch and sniff.  

metamorphosis

Today, I lose my cocoon. The theory is, my right arm will magically transform from a pupa (though I much prefer "chrysalis") to a butterfly. I'll continue this later, after I see my pale and wrinkled newborn appendage emerge from the cloud of parched skin and plaster dust. Yuck. I just hope the boneman wears a respirator. Stay tuned...

Holy mackerel! What kind of la-de-da fantasy land was I living in yesterday (now it's Tues. the 26th) when I wrote that crap? Butterfly??? *Snort*  Not even an unholy mackerel. More like, holy geoduck! Pronounced "gooeyduck", they're those obscene giant clam necks which are sometimes eaten as sushi. Which goes to prove the Japanese will eat anything. 

Warning: I'm going to digress here now. I'd add "no offense", but I am so beyond offended by the Japanese wholesale slaughter of whales and dolphins. The following link refers to their criminal whaling and dolphin "harvest", and includes interviews with the the Sea Shepherd crew (though not the recent ramming of a Sea Shepherd protest boat by the Japanese whalers) and a preview of "The Cove". We're proud that "The Cove" won at Sundance and was chosen last week to be the first feature-length film on YouTube; the director lives here in Boulder, and my husband designed part of the hidden digital camera set-up. 

http://www.seashepherd.org/news-and-media/video-library.html

Well, if that's not enough to get over myself, I'll be doomed to keep my own company. I'd say I wouldn't wish that on a dog, but there are a lot of dogs who seem to like my company, even if it includes a lot of moaning and groaning and wicked limp wrists and weird been-under-a-rock-too-long skin. Way it is. In the meantime, I'll try to work my way back to my art, photographing it, and finally to posting it. Thanks for your patience; I hope it'll be worth it.  

the end is near

Remember the ubiquitous New Yorker cartoons showing the scraggle-bearded, be-sandaled gloomster carrying the sign which reads, "the end is near"? Well, I is he. Minus the scraggly beard, the sandals and the gloom. My blessed boneman is removing my cast this coming Monday! However, for now, due to residual limp-wristedness, I won't be able to play the violin. But as Groucho, eyebrows twitching and cigar twiddling, would ask, "But could she play the violin before?"

Please celebrate with me by enjoying the following YouTube:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nh7D2g5v-Sg

grand canyon morning

Melinda, this one's for you. Nice old picture from the plane to Hawaii, but I like your painting better.

blue hawaii

The reservations for Hawaii were for the day before yesterday. Keeping them was definitely not possible, but I'm not above regrets. To avoid wallowing, I spent the day with good friends. It didn't make me forget, but love gets you through. 

last lost canyon

Along the entire length of the eastern Front Range of the Rocky Mountains in Colorado, there is only one remaining undeveloped river canyon without a paved road. One! The existing dirt road is little more than a wagon track wandering beneath giant cottonwood trees back and forth across the river, in and out of pastures, across rapids and under dark holes full of trout. The canyon remains untouched because all the people who own the land along the river have worked to keep it that way. It's taken a lot of quiet coalition meetings and loud lawyers. And it's taken faith, faith that conservation easements will hold and that water rights won't be sold.

On both sides of the Continental Divide here in Colorado, we know that snowmelt becomes lifeblood. We know our water will float Mississippi barges down to the Gulf and push the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon, if only to get strangled by Hoover Dam and gambled away by Las Vegas until it eventually dries up somewhere out in a California lettuce field. Sadly, we also know it's only a matter of time before this last canyon and our river gets dammed up to support the flagrant development of Denver and its insane demand for water.

Meanwhile, multinational corporations are buying up as many sources of potable water as they can. If you squint, you'll see a tiny "Nestle" on almost all of the bottled water in the world. We'll probably run out of water before we run out of gas. Pay attention, folks; water is the new oil.

bugs

There's a bug in the blogosphere today. My blog has the dry heaves and double vision. And, like a bad child, it feverishly threw me out of its room. After 30 minutes of wheedling, cajoling, begging, then outright threatening, it still would not OPEN THIS DAMN DOOR RIGHT THIS MINUTE (no, I am not yelling, you little twit). So I called Google and tattled on it. I was told, no problem lady; just change your password.

You people have got to be kidding! I can't remember my own full name half the time, and you want me to CHANGE MY PASSWORD?!?!? Not to mention, I have a cast on clear up to my right armpit and have to type with my left index finger!!! Don't you understand that my left hand is connected to my right brain, where pretty pictures are stacked to the attic but there are NO English words, only Czechoslovakian ones, words that are all spelled with only c's and z's and v's??! Oh sure, I can make up a new password, but I couldn't remember it any more than you, in spite of all of your almighty gigabytes of Googleness, could.  

Would you say this to me even if you knew I'm an invalid??? Ha! I just bet you would, you behemoth breeder of bugs! Well, as that patron saint of everyman, Johnny Carson, would say...

"Cut off your Slauson!"

riding the dog

36 x 36 acrylic

It's driving me nuts not being able to take photos, even of the off-the-page pastels I do with my left hand. So, dipping into my iPhotos, here's a relatively recent painting. It's a sloppy reproduction, but hey, what's a one-armed bandit to do?