Posts Tagged With: color

red like me

I bought myself a little pressie yesterday, and thanks to Amazon Prime, it arrived today.

They’re oil based colored pencils! They’re supposed to work like oil pastels without the mess…guess we’ll see about that.

Look! This one is red just like me!

Categories: me | Tags: , , , , , | 5 Comments

life’s great big canvas

Life is a great big canvas, throw all the paint you can at it. ~ Danny Kaye

I find this concept fascinating.
It makes absolute sense, if you consider your life a blank canvas and paint it as you go along.
Think about the people you know. The people you love. How do they paint their canvases?

Little children fling paint like mad. Some of it may not even hit the canvas. It may be a hot mess, but still beautiful to behold.

I can think of some who plan out their art with laser sharp precision. I may be stylistically stunning, but what does it make you feel when you look at it? What do they feel when they look at it?

(I’m not saying we should paint our life canvases for other people’s eyes, but if this is the concept with which we’re going, we’re going to see other canvases just as others will see the canvas each of us paints.)

What about those who paint their canvas with precious little color? Surely there are those who throw only black or gray at the canvas of life.
(I can’t help feeling that is sad. But it’s not my canvas, perhaps it’s the most beautiful painting ever created even if it’s devoid of color.)

Some folks are abstract, right? The canvas doesn’t reveal an image necessarily, but you see the passion with with the paint was thrown.

There are those who continually reinvent themselves. Does that mean there are countless “overpaints”?

How about the canvases that are completely covered? With paint thrown so that it rises off the canvas. Is this evidence of a life well lived? Or is it an example of absolute chaos?

If I examine my own life canvas I can “see” a great deal of purple at the beginning of my painting. It was my favorite color when I was a little girl. It’s slapped on there without rhyme or reason.
Then there are loads of rainbows. I’ve loved rainbows ever since I can remember.
After this I see evidence of outside influences. Having to conform. At school. At home. It looks more like coloring inside the lines than throwing paint as expression of self. I’m actually quite good at coloring inside the lines. Though it wouldn’t be my first choice, especially then.
There is a great deal of red after that. Dark heart’s blood red in great splashes. It’s from a time in my life that was filled with pain and anger.
I see brightness of color in great big splotches. (Not quite polka dots, but close.) It’s more tactile, I can see how I painted with my fingers. It is filled with joy and wild abandon, and more love than has ever been present on my canvas of life. This portion of the painting is enormous.
But following that comes nothing but gray. It’s the kind of gray that feels like a prison. What’s interesting is that within this gray are little flashes of light and color. They are fleeting. The gray permeates the canvas.
A great black slash follows.
And I begin to see timid strokes of color that grow into broad bursts of color. So much pink. And green. I see abstract rainbow colors together. But not a traditional rainbow. Yellow comes to play. Also light blue.

I expect to have many more years to throw paint at my life canvas.
I don’t know if we realize how important it is that we consider life this way. To chuck paint blindly. To make meaningful symbols. To embrace life so fully that no matter how the paint is applied the canvas is the most creative and beautiful work of art.

Danny Kaye knew what was up. Throw as much paint as you can at the canvas of your life! Make it the most wonderful visual example of who you are.
If you’re lucky, you’ll have people in your life who will invite you to throw some paint at their canvas and ask permission to do the same with yours.
Remember this: Some people will think it’s beautiful and some will criticize it. Disregard that and ask yourself if you think it’s beautiful. It’s your canvas. It represents your life. If you find it beautiful, isn’t that all that matters?

Categories: me | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

September was a blur!

September was a blur!
So much for writing twice a week…(I’m going to need for you to get it together, Robynbird.)

Thing 2 finally got sorted…not at school though, she worked herself up to literally (And I understand the meaning of the word, K?) foaming at the mouth she was so anxious. So after many tears, and a great deal of patience on all our parts, she has decided to get her high school equivalent and begin community college in January. Is this the plan I had for her? No. Do I think she gave going back to high school her all? No. But I do believe she feels more comfortable with this plan. She has passed all the pretests with good indication she’ll pass the GED test, and she is actively researching courses at NOVA with talk of transferring to a “proper” college in two years. (Just in case you aren’t aware, there are SO MANY wonderful Virginia schools to choose from.)
So, Thing 2 is employed at a job she really enjoys, ready to pass her tests, ready to enroll in community college, and just about ready to move into her new digs in the basement. All in all, I feel good about this, for her, and in general.

As for moving into her new digs…we’ve hired contractors to create a bathroom, bedroom (With a pretty spectacular closet.), and a big ol’ family/rec room in the unfinished basement. They started a week ago yesterday and in that time have framed, put in three windows and a six foot door, all the electrical and plumbing…and when I say plumbing, I mean they started with a jackhammer as there was no rough in. Yesterday the inspector came with two big thumbs and Monday we will have drywall. WOW!
So Thing 2 has chosen a sink and cabinet, a loo, tile, and paint colors for her bathroom…and bedding for her bedroom, but cannot seem to commit to a color choice for her bedroom. We went to Benjamin Moore earlier this week and she totally choked. She just shut down completely. I’ve seen her do it before and knew the signs. I just watched it happen, powerless to stop it. So…yeah, I’m going to need for her to get it together with a quickness.

I had surgery on my foot in September and am now on week three of being non weight bearing. Not that I’m a complainer or anything…but I’m kind of over it. Want to use two feet instead of one foot and crutches or one foot and a knee scooter. But as my beloved Grandaddy would have said, “You’re old enough for your wants not to hurt you.” At least they finally removed the stitches so I can wash my foot! I mean really wash it, you know with soap and water and a scrubbie. It’s like my own little Christmas being able to clean my stinky foot!
I know the surgery was successful because when I woke up, there was no pain, and not the anesthesia and pain killer kind of no pain, the kind of no pain that was the exact opposite of the excruciating pain I’d been in for the two weeks prior to the surgery. I’m pain free! But I can’t walk…yet.

YBW and I went to our twenty fifth high school reunion the last weekend of September! We went to see people we see frequently (Sundance) and people we only see every five or ten years, me on my scooter with the big boot on my gimp foot and a sassy high heeled shoe on the good foot, and YBW with two good feet.
Friday night was…blech. I couldn’t move around because the space was tight and a girl I knew briefly my sophomore year was hammered when we got there and latched on to me with stories of our deep and meaningful friendship and never left my side. Even Sundance couldn’t save me from that.
The next night was better. The venue was larger and I was able to get around a bit. There were less people there so we got to spend more time in smaller groups. But the most amazing thing about that night was that YBW stood up in front of all those people we went to high school with and asked me to be his wife.
OHMYGOD! I know! I was totally peeing my pants! (Sorry, that was my super squealy teenage girl voice.)
Seriously, it was the most precious thing, he got up and talked about how we began dating after our twentieth reunion and have been together for five years, four of which were long distance. He talked about how we love each other’s kids and how the words boyfriend and girlfriend seem strange words to use because we’re adults. But then he said he found a word he wanted to call me, he wanted to call me his wife. Then he walked to me and got down on one knee with the most perfect diamond in his hand.

the most perfect ring

I was shocked! Not that he asked me, because we decide in the summer we were going to get married…shocked that he did it in a room full of people that we never really see or have real relationships with, shocked that he did it in such a grandiose way.
Shock moved quickly aside and the joy has come a calling.

It’s big, happy, exciting news! We are filled with love and joy. We are accepting congratulations. We are using the word fiancé gratuitously. (But only to each other.) We are planning for the fall next year, and on the sixth anniversary of dating, we will be married.
All four Things are overjoyed for us and eager to celebrate with us.
Family and friends are supportive and loving.
I feel giggly and excited, but I also feel like I’m coming home.

Categories: love | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

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