My dust bunnies are getting out of hand.

What am I?

 "What am I?" I asked my three year old Grandson as he sat and traced my Adventure Time t-shirt with his finger.

"You are Dandy" he said with a huge smile, like I'm insane for asking.

"But I'm your Grandma too." I said to a smiley but confused looking kid.

As a child my "Granny" seemed more Grandmotherly to me.  She had long gray hair, always pulled tight in a bun and wore dresses.  She had a small jar of crayons for the multitude of Grandchildren (somewhere around 80) to use when we visited.  (Not all at once of course).  She made the most amazing twisters (like a donut) that I longed for.  She spoke of Jesus often and with such passion.

My other Grandmother, a French Canadian, went by that name.  At age 90, she and her second husband walked into the house decked out in leather from head to foot.  They had gotten there in a red Volkswagon Beetle that she described as "A sweet little ride."  I associate her with boxed chicken soup and when Grandpa was alive, blood pudding and head cheese.  (He was Scottish).  Grandpa would take me for walks and buy me vanilla ice cream that came in a plastic baseball that I'd eat with a tiny wooden spoon.

Whatever kind of Grandparents we are as long as we show kindness and love and take their side against Mom and Dad on occasion, fond memories will ensue.

Snippets:
So a guy is starving after having a scone, drink, and a scoop of chocolate-orange ice cream at the local Coffee Shop/Ice cream shop. What's a guy to do when he is obviously so under fed. Well, you go scavenging for apples along the bike path. He would have chowed down right there if we hadn't promised him a nice juicy apple pie made with his hastily gathered apples. I believe he was afraid someone else would come along and find his secret treasure source before he had gathered them up entirely. I talked him into an apple crisp instead and he thought that would be fine. Now I will bake it as Grandma's do and perhaps the Good Lord will forgive my little white lie. I have no intention of using those worm infested treasures but have bought some from the store to use instead. If he should find them buried in the garden, which is a favourite digging spot for little people, I will just explain that they were too special to cook and needed to be grown instead.

 I'm baaaaack!  Like a bad penny.  Well, not a Canadian one.  We don't do pennies any more.   Finally figured out how to get back into this blog after long lost passwords and changed email addresses and multiple phone number changes.  I found the one string that was able to unravel the mystery.  Now to communicate pandemic style.  No personal contact.  No touching.  No close talking.  Welcome to my dream world.  I LOVE 2020!

Salem

New business, new steel toe boots.

13th floor Hotel room on Friday the 13th.

It's tough all over

I promise I'll try not to complain as much about the traffic in L.A. if someone will just send me back there!

I don't always work this cheap

SOLD

(for 2 suces and the chocolate nut topping off an icecream cone.)

Week one of a two week pose.  I didn't even bother to ask his name.  I feel so cheap.

Other People Exist

It's been a couple of years, but I've finally worn my way through my graphic tee collection back to the "Other People Exist" t-shirt.  Ironically I was wearing this in line at the Starbucks this morning when a man all but pushed me out of the way to beat me to the head of the line.  He must have really needed a coffee.  I didn't take him down as I normally would.  I find when I wear this tee I'm reminded to be a kinder, gentler me.  Curse you Kurt!

.

I tend to be a magnet for unwanted attention too.  If there's a nutbag out there....

If there is ever an apocalypse and I survive it, I'm going to the National Gallery and touching all of the art.

A lively day at Mud Lake

A Study of Julia

Yoga.  It's all the craze amongst the upperclass ducks in the Village of Britannia.  I've noticed they're a lot snootier this year.  Once they start wearing lululemon I'm outta there! 

Suck it up buttercup

 

 

her: " My room smells bad."
me: " I opened the window to air it out. What's it smell like?"
her:  "Outside. It stinks. I hate that smell."

We are here.

Meanwhile back in Canada......

This rabbit (Nuggies) didn't need rescuing for health reasons, but rather for his poor fashion sense.

Perpetual Chocoholic and I have been remiss in our duties, but after months of no posts, we are back in full force with two posts in a row!

I forget why Perp Choc stopped posting here, but I don't think the internet ever had a better artwork-in-progress blog, whereas it has more than enough snarkily-captioned-humorous-pictures blogs like mine (to which I still occasionally post, even though my top commenter is myself using a different name).

Did Perp Choc quit drawing and painting, or did she just quit posting her work here for us to see? Only she (and anyone else who knows the answer) can say for sure. At least we still have the frog banner to admire. That is all.

Yeah!  Finally gained control of this account again.  Time to kill this sucker!

Making Lemonade

While most would immediately call the exterminator should they find rats in their abode (or school cafeteria thus shutting services down for two weeks) we prefer to pamper our rats.  That way they feel suitably happy and don't gnaw on your face while you slumber.

Okay, thank you to those who said they would have bought my work from the Figureworks show had they had the chance. BUT, it was bought by a fellow artist, who really loved it and snapped it up just after the show opened.  I don't think it could possibly have a better home.  I'm quite tickled that one of my peers, who never buys art, had to have it.

"It's all there in black and white"

At last nights vernissage Mr. P and I walked around the gallery just after the show opened and checked out all the art work.  On our second pass around Mr. P noticed that someone had placed a red sticker on my tag.

Mr. P.: "Why is there a red sticker on your tag?"

Me:  "That means it sold."

Mr. P:  ".....no, really.  Why is there a red sticker on your tag?"

Me:  "Because it sold."

Mr. P.  "Are any of your relatives here?"

Me:  "It wouldn't surprise me, but that would just be depressing."

I can save face and say that it did get snapped up right away by someone that was not a relative and that I didn't know, who "never buys art" but just loved the work.