Tuesday, October 31, 2017

murder rabbit has technical issues

One of the problems I have with the new iphones is that they don't support the crusty old blogger app, so I can't upload pictures unless I email them to myself and add them from the desktop computer. And our desktop computer blew up because some genius plugged it into the wall socket right next to the power bar (NOT ME). That's part of the reason I haven't been posting much in recent months. 

So all I've got right now is my murder rabbit costume. I will return later with the Halloween Post Nobody Asked For. 

Proof of holiday spirit/peer pressure:





Monday, October 23, 2017

not a pumpkin

I really still don't know what I'm doing, but the only way out is through. Plunge on.

This painting could use a second pass to clean up some of the wonky lines and add texture to the background, but I'm happy with it as a one-sitting portrait. 



Also pictured: the small painting I'm waffling about adding a complicated background to - I like the hair and ear, but not the face, so I either have to fix it, finish it as-is, or abandon it. Meeehhh.

Thursday, October 19, 2017

tacos

The trip kicked up the mud in the water. I pulled out autumn decorations and lit scented candles, figuring a change of seasons might improve things. When that didn't work, I baked cookies. When that didn't work, I painted. I bought a miniature pumpkin to use as a model, thinking I could somehow make it look more interesting than just a miniature pumpkin - and I failed. It just looked like a stupid boring pumpkin with some dead leaves around it.



*sad trombone*

I sat and stared at it and wondered if I could even paint at all. Considered pitching my easel out the studio door, but the studio is in the basement, so I'd have to heave it up a flight of stairs. Pitched myself out, instead. Probably should have pitched the miniature pumpkin.

The next day I had a doctor's appointment down by the art museum, and decided I should go sit with the dead artists for a bit afterwards. I did not do that, however, because while I was in the waiting room I became sidetracked by the office decor.

Buddha says, "You're going to feel my hand for a moment."

A women's doctor's office needs uncomfortable pictures of fruit. Like lemons. Or peaches. Or melons. Or... TACOS*. I suddenly decided it was VERY IMPORTANT that I find a taco. And paint a picture of the taco. The taco would be everything the miniature pumpkin was not. I could get gold leaf and paint heavenly gilded tacos, and be famous for my inspirational taco paintings.


I need more friends, I think.

Anyway, my workshop is in 3 weeks. For the past month, I had been doodling pictures of cabled sweaters and tall boots in the margins of my planner during staff meetings, and then suddenly the air conditioning started working again, blasting the library with an arctic wind that cut through my leather blazer like cheesecloth. I looked at the thermostat. 68 degrees. I looked at the temperature in Seattle. 43 degrees. Wadded up my romantic fall style notions and marched down to the thrift store to buy the heaviest, down-lined-iest, fur-trimmed-iest parka I could get my hands on. Found something with Korean labels that looks as if it may have been made for surviving a nuclear winter. My legs stick out the bottom like Popsicle sticks. They will probably freeze and snap off. I don't need legs for painting, anyway.

and I guess it makes my arms different lengths


I don't know about October, you guys.

* the best fruit

Thursday, October 12, 2017

I live!

Three days up an unpaved road, in a cabin on a mountain with a jilted ex and no cell reception - WHAT COULD GO WRONG?

Nothing went wrong. It was beautiful. Although I didn't actually need to bring a chaperone, because the man brought his wizard beard, and it had a repelling force field around it.


ADVENTURE 

Our flight left before the sun was up. We stopped for 7-11 coffee at 4:30am on the way to the airport, and almost drove over a drunk guy passed out in one of the parking stalls. Forgot to take a vacation picture.


dramatic reenactment

I'd grabbed the spare booster seat and chucked it in the trunk of the car, not realizing that a family of giant cockroaches had moved into the lining. One of the roaches panicked while I was shoving the booster through the airport x-ray machine and scrabbled up onto Gavin's bag. The TSA agents started screaming and made Gavin leave the security line to take the roach outside. While they were staring after him and acting as if they'd never seen a cockroach in Hawaii before, I stood at the end of the conveyor belt, surreptitiously swatting all the roaches out of the booster seat and into their security area. When Gavin got back, we ran for it.

Inter-island flying is the best. You zoom up into the sky, the hostess rushes to throw foil-covered cups of guava juice and coffee at everyone, then she runs back down the aisle to collect the empties and snatch barely-sipped cups of coffee from passengers, and the plane zooms back down again. Zenny clapped, impressed.

Just before having a cup of juice chucked at me

After being overcharged at the car rental joint, the lady at the Budget desk apologized by upgrading me to a car that was completely unsuited to landslide-prone sea cliffs and off-road travel.
"Okay, but the thing is, I actually just don't want to pay the money," I explained to her.
"But," she said with forceful cheer, "With this fee right here, if the car is stolen or damaged, you just walk away, you're totally covered!"
"... So I can hit every bridge on the Hana Highway and park it where people like to break tourist's windows and set the cars on fire?"
"Yes, but... wait, where are you going?"
"SOLD."

The ridiculous little sports car was the best thing ever. I loved it so much, even though I didn't know how to lower the seats and drove all the way to Hana perched at the wheel like a velociraptor.


Also, I told people it was a Mazda the whole time and it turns out it was a Nissan. 
I am good at cars.

Our cabin was waaaay up the mountainside, along an unpaved road, across a steep hill of wet grass, and up two strips of concrete with wheel-sucking mud on all sides. I couldn't believe it when the little car made it up to the house, and we fell out of the car in quivering lumps of adrenaline. Not even an hour later, there was a terrible roar and a long squeal and then a crunch. We trotted outside to meet the neighbor from the yurt up the hill, who had gone off the concrete strips, gotten his van bogged in the mud, managed to floor it and get back up onto the strips, and then hydroplaned down the grass, sliding 180 degrees and crashing backwards into a bunch of rocks. "Nah, man, it's cool, I just have a bunch of lemongrass wrapped around my axle," he said, unfazed. I looked at my weenie car and wondered how we would leave the mountain alive.

During the days, friends descended on us, and we played cards and talked and ate sausages into the night. After the kids were asleep, the guy-friend and I sat on the porch, talking and watching the skies for shooting stars. On the second night, the half-moon rose out of the ocean flat-side-up, forming an enormous glowing orange rectangle that scared the crap out of us. We have been nuked! Aliens! Ghost ship! ... Moon. Embarrassing.

The shower was outside, with no privacy beyond acres of uninhabited mountainside and massive flower bushes. I waited until everyone was asleep and picked my way down the stone path in the dark like a mountain goat to bathe under the stars. I woke up early every morning to make coffee with the French press and watch the sun rise. It was pretty great.


Also,  my archenemy tried to ambush me. And FAILED. HA. We went down the mountain to hit the beach and hang out at our friend's place, and she figured out where we were, showing up without warning just minutes after I had wandered off and headed back up to the cabin. I WIN AGAIN. Accidentally.

While Zenny enjoyed endless rounds of Go Fish, the teenagers formed a mob. They played Spoons, shared secrets, ran through the trees, picked avocados, dunked each other in the ocean, went to a dance at the rec center, and ate everything they could find. Gavin was happy, battered, and sunburned by the time we said our goodbyes and drove back along the coast to the airport. We bought big boxes of Krispy Kreme and joined all the other families traveling back to Oahu with massive bags full of donuts. People from Oahu are weird about Krispy Kreme, because we don't have any. TSA has to examine food items now, as part of enhanced security measures, and they scrutinized the avocado I had dropped into my backpack, but the endless bags of Krispy Kremes defeated them, and they just pushed them through without a glance. That is quality security for you.

It was a really good trip. This time when I said we should do it again, I wasn't lying through my teeth.


PHOTO DUMP


 Panorama of the awesome cabin

The worst wiener dog

The best girls

 Gouache is hard and stupid

 Friends and brothers

The road that tried to eat my fancy not-a-Mazda

Ruts of doom
 There was a really pretty meditation pavilion that looked like a fish tank for humans

 The starry sunrise


The beard taking the man for a walk through the flowers


The holy-shit sunrise

Rain that may have been magic

Moments before I escaped an ambush


DONUTS


Sunday, October 08, 2017

mwah

This is a scheduled post. I am flying in the air. Driving along the sea cliffs. Cooking dinner up on a mountain. I'll be off the grid for a few days.

I am feeling nervous about this trip. Uneasy.

But there will be a large porch overlooking the water, and a deck of cards, and a pocket sketchbook. I am giving this thing my most earnest effort, and lifting a glass to you far-away people gathering for celebrations and Canadian feasts.








Friday, October 06, 2017

vacation prep

* New haircut: no

* New swimsuit: I did not get one

* Flowing beach clothes: old jeans are fine, why not

What I have been doing is lifting weights obsessively, in case I end up pushing the rental car out of a gulch or getting into a brawl at the general store.





vacation goals

All these punching muscles would maybe be more useful if I had ever learned how to throw a punch. How hard can it be? I've seen it done in real life; pull back, haul out with your fist, and follow the momentum around gracefully into a sprint in the opposite direction. I doubt punching technology has advanced since I was 10. And this time it won't be me getting punched in the face, probably.

Or actually I could just bring a big box of Krispy Kreme donuts and beer so that people are happy to see me.

Keeping my options open. But I like having the muscles. I can open jars now.