Painting workshop day 3: tree wins

Hours slept: 6.5

The day went too fast. We climbed into trucks and drove through the woods on a bumpy dirt road to a clearing by the river, with a view of Sauvie island. I meant to paint the distant view, but a tree caught my attention again. In the morning I took my time building an underpainting, knowing the light in the afternoon would change, and listened to Pink Floyd and Janis Joplin until I realized it was making me think about things, which I was not there to do. Put my earbuds away, painted all afternoon, burned my dang ankles (but not my arms this time), almost fainted because I forgot to unlock my knees or drink water, and felt good and sore and satisfied by the end of the day. I didn’t capture what I was going for with the tree, but I can work on it at home.

You win this time, tree 

Driving back to the farm, long shadows on the hillsides, it felt like turning the last page on a book you were really enjoying. What now? I thought about going home on Tuesday, and realized that if it wasn’t for the kids, I wouldn’t go back. I don’t want to be there. 

Well, that’s good to know.

My bnb host saw that I was having some feelings about going home, took me outside to see the hollyhocks and the little cabin they’re working on, then rubbed essential oils on my wrists for serenity. She’s really kind. I appreciated it, even if I’m not convinced about essential oils. Can’t hurt, might help, I figure.

Tomorrow I check out and head down to Portland to meet a friend, visit the creepy taxidermy shop for butterflies, and take her kids to get ice cream. I was hoping to drive out to the Maryhill Museum, but I have to have the car back by 4:30. The airport hotel isn’t going to be as peaceful as feeding cows, but at least I can get a beer and boil my butt in the hot tub. 

Painting workshop day 2: showdown with a tree

Hours slept: 5-6! I think I have figured out the dosage to get me through the night tonight. That nice concerned man at the shop suggested I cut them in half because I’m not used to them, but he did not know the power of my perimenopausal ‘rebellion process’ stress insomnia. It took two THREE. Maybe I won’t have extras to worry about after all.

I drove up to Plas Newydd farm, reasonably rested, and met the group of artists in the historic old house. Jeff led introductions, gave a talk about composition and color theory, then we loaded up and walked down the hill to the river. “Walk around and just look at the place, not as an artist but just as a person on a walk, and see what gets your attention. Sit with it a minute, think about what it is that interests you, see if your attention wanders or if you’re drawn back to it. That’s your spot.” And that is how I ended up in a face-off with a single tree instead of painting the river and mountains.

It was great. For 5 hours, I fought with that tree, and not once did I think about particular men, where I’ll live, how I’ll pay the bills, or whether I remembered to put sunscreen on my arms. At the end of the day I had a reasonable painting of a tree and arms like twizzlers. We walked back up to the house and Jeff gave a good critique of all our work. 

Jeff explaining 3:5 composition

We’ll call it a draw, tree

Spot mine

After a shower back at the farm, I drove up to meet one of the other artists for dinner and a walk along the river. Realized I am not invisible anymore. Nobody notices a middle-aged haole in Hawaii, I can get away with anything in public, so this was really weird.

Tomorrow: second day of workshop, new area of the farm. Sunscreen. 

Painting workshop day 1: the walking dead

Hours slept: 0

I laid in bed with a pillow smashed over my face all night, waiting for sleep that never came, then got up with the sun and had a cup of tea. I walked around the farm for a bit to say hi to the chickens. My friend’s car is fucked and she needs to fight with the insurance company, so I was on my own for the day. I decided to head up to the reservation to see if the guys at the dispensary could give me something to knock me out cold for the next 4 nights, then drove over to Moulton Falls to spend the afternoon hiking around and looking at waterfalls. I was glad I brought a jacket; the heat wave rolled out with the fog and it was chilly. Good day to get lost in the woods.

Morning on the farm:

Mid-morning I drove up to the dispensary, which looked like a candy-coated Apple Store, and the nice beardy guy at the counter took about 5 seconds figuring out what I needed. I was in and out in under 2 minutes with a little $20 box of sleep in my purse. Plugged Moulton Falls into my Waze app and proceeded to turn a 15 minute drive into a 34 minute one. I am good at driving, but maybe not so good at following a little winding purple line with no fixed direction that blanks out and recalibrates every time it loses signal.

Families were jumping into the river and splashing around like it wasn’t 74 degrees, while I shivered in my jacket. After an hour of walking around in the forest and climbing rocks, I warmed up enough to peel the jacket off and use it as a pillow to lay by the river with my feet in the water. I was willing to fall asleep like that, but a group of men showed up with a portable speaker blasting country music, so I put my shoes back on and dipped out.

Moulton Falls:

Back at the farm, I ate TJ’s cheese, bread, and figs with half a can of honey pear hard cider, until I almost faceplanted in the brie. NO. If I did actually manage to fall asleep, then I’d be up at 9pm and awake the rest of the night. Determined to stay upright until at least 7pm, then sleep the sleep of the blissfully sedated, I took a very hot shower and set up a few little apples to paint. By 6pm I was hungry and went upstairs to chat with the owners and eat bruschetta before walking down to the apple trees with them to feed the cows. We worked until the bats came out - picking apples, hauling branches to the burn pile, getting cow slobber up to our elbows, and pulling up armloads of weeds. It was the happiest I’ve been in a year. I really needed that. 

Fingers crossed for sleep. I just opened up the box and there are about 20 of these things in here. Oh no. I will need to find someone to give the rest  to before I get on the plane on Tuesday. They are Not Allowed.

Painting workshop Day 0: HNL - PDX

I sure travel a lot for someone who remembers they don’t like flying as soon as the cabin door closes. You’d think the lesson would stick eventually.

This is the view Zone 5 gets you. Just glad they don’t store us with the checked bags.

6 hours of audio books and knitting without having to tell anyone where the toilets and printer are? Vacation mode is ON.

Update from PDX: did this airport triple in size in the last 7 years? Christ. Found the baggage claim, got my bag, followed my phone map across the street, found a huge Uber lot instead of car rentals. A sign said “take the duck elevator to north tunnel and follow signs”. Found an elevator with a duck on it, pressed the tunnel button, and it spit me out into an office corridor and straight into a cluster of cops. Panicked. Looked for signs, didn’t see any, ran for it. Same cops were talking to a couple that had also just wandered off the duck elevator. They told us how to get to the rental cars, I rode back up with the couple, walked in the direction they pointed, and ran straight back into the same cops at the end of the garage. Shit, they can teleport. The big one patiently pointed to the pedestrian walkway. The other one was looking at me kind of hard, and I was suddenly worried I was loaded with drugs and weapons I didn’t know about.

Waiting in line for my car. My friend texted me to say she just got in a (minor, no-injuries) wreck and might not be able to go hiking tomorrow, so I guess that answers my question about how the traffic is here.

10 min later:

Lucky fuckers ahead of me got my Jetta, now I’m stuck in a Nissan Altima. Was really hoping to drive a car I was familiar with, oh well. Watch out, fellow drivers.

Update the last: 

Made it to the farm with two big bags of Trader Joe’s groceries. Chatted with my host, ate dinner on the porch, then sat outside by an apple tree on a pile of wood palettes and watched night fall. There was a bright orange sliver of moon, and a row of cows watching me for signs of apples. Geese and ducks and hummingbirds. A bat swooped by. Silence except for crickets and a raptor somewhere in the trees. I started crying. Good grief. If anyone actually tries to touch me I’ll shatter into pieces. 

Countdown: 2 days

I haven’t been able to sleep through the night in over a month, and I was starting to look like someone had punched me twice in the face. My phone was like, nice try, ugly, and wouldn’t open with facial recognition for three days. “You look terrible, you should take a nap,” my mother said as she dropped off a rescue chicken for us to babysit for the weekend. Yes, you know what is good for napping? BABY CHICKENS.

That’s ok, I’ve never been able to nap anyway. She took the noise machine back on Sunday, and I caught five consecutive hours of sleep. Phone finally let me in again. Yesterday I went for a long run, because at this point “you can sleep when you’re dead” sounds like a plan. Slept six hours. Joke's on you, circadian rhythm; humans are persistence hunters, and I'm catching up.

Flying out on Thursday morning. I have to check a bag because of my oil paints, and it's eighty-fucking-dollars on Hawaiian Air, so I crammed everything into the biggest suitcase we have and I'm just going to travel with a purse and a book like someone who doesn't give a shit if all their underwear ends up at the wrong airport. It's a nonstop flight, if they lose my suitcase I'm going with it anyway.

Getting in around 4pm Thursday.

that went well

Dropped a tower of boxes on the desk at the post office and gave the postal lady a workout. The paintings are off to their new homes. I appreciate everyone who bought one and spread the word, it was a shot in the arm for my morale. And it's interesting to see what sells and what doesn't - flower and still life paintings go fast, figures and animals don't. Helps me hone in on what I should be spending my time on if I want to make a living at this in the foreseeable future. Which I do. Plans are cooking. My boss isn't going to like them.

Added one more painting to the shop today. Had to re-varnish it, so it was drying for a few days, but it’s ready to go now. 

So, we dropped the “healing” part of “healing separation”. I’m opting out, I’ve done this twice already. And this time I don’t have preschoolers to keep alive, so I can do anything I want. 

Studio sale today

Ok, I’ve uploaded the paintings to my website shop: hollybraffet.com

Prices range from $50 - $600. All money goes toward tickets to Newfoundland. If you’re looking for something you lost, start back at the beginning and retrace your steps.

studio sale this week

I'm putting together a bunch of paintings for a studio sale. Which I will actually announce beforehand - unlike my Etsy mini frame shop, which I just quietly opened up and then immediately regretted. I am not cut out for sales, I have a pang of dread every time I get an alert from Etsy. Back to using my website shop and just posting one-off sales on Instagram, get it all over with in one weekend. It is taking forever to load each item with decent pictures and descriptions and prices, but it should all be ready to launch on Friday.

A couple newer ones I didn’t get around to sharing:

Looking forward to getting the hell out of here and not thinking about anything but painting, hiking, and getting lost in a rental car for a few days. Two weeks from tomorrow. 

Small good things

It’s hobos-in-the-lychee-tree season again. This year I got ahead of things and laminated a “yes, you may pick lychee, but please don’t climb on the wall” sign, which has reduced the number of people banging on the side of the house and yelling into the ring camera.

In the evening, Gavin cut down enough lychee to fill a bucket and we spent a few hours talking, peeling, taking the pits out, and filling freezer bags. Lychee are no good to cook with, but they make great smoothies when you freeze them.

A few weeks ago, to reward myself for going to the dentist, I walked from their office to the hardware store and picked up a new hibiscus plant. I didn’t know what size or color the flowers would be (the tag just said “angel ruffles” or something) until it finally popped a blossom this week. Keep your labubus, this is the kind of blind box I like.

Also in Gardening for the Lazy and Stupid, I had the great idea to grow my own papayas since prices keep going up, and now I have about 8 little trees that I have been periodically repotting into larger and larger containers. They’re up to my waist now. Then a few days ago I actually looked at some of the papaya trees in my neighborhood and realized that each one can grow taller than the house. Oh no. I mean, I’ve grown up with these trees, I knew they were tall, but I never actually thought about that in terms of yard space and how long my arms would have to be to pick the fruit. Well, that is a problem for future me. Maybe they’ll stay short and manageable if I keep them in container prisons instead of planting them in the ground.

This weekend was the annual read-aloud event at Ward Center, where the Friends of the Library invite local authors and illustrators to read for an audience, and they have started booking me for the middle of the day as a filler because a librarian is good for quacking and singing with toddlers for half an hour when one of the other readers finishes way too early. A 15 minute slot seems short, but it actually only takes about 2 minutes to read the average picture book, then you’re in trouble for the next 13 minutes and I get to be a big damn hero. After the reading, we walked over to the fancy chocolate shop and the kids picked out mini truffles. It was a nice event.

For family dinner, I tried making chantilly cake. My mother looked at it and said, “Is that chicken gravy?” Damn. I’ll have to try a different recipe. It tasted okay, anyway.

On Saturday, Gavin took Zenny to a Magic: the Gathering game night, and they had a lot of fun playing with an experienced elder nerd and a young stoned surfer who found a box of Magic cards in a dumpster. Leif and I stayed at home, sacked out on the couch watching Freaky Tales on Netflix and eating fudge pops. Having older kids is the best.

Fitness cult update: I am ripped like a gym bro. 

“Oh yeah. That’s a muscle. Sure.”

Well, anything worth doing is worth doing badly, that’s my motto. Something is better than nothing. 

I have ordered my paints and a few new brushes, getting ready for the workshop in a couple weeks. One of my long-time online mom friends is meeting me at Moulton Falls that Friday (I know better than to hike alone with my survival skill set) and it looks really beautiful. Painting, cows, Washington apples, Trader Joe’s, and a hike to a waterfall. Lets go.

17

This guy started his senior year of high school yesterday. His next birthday will be a university send off.

Leif had an amazing year. He got a job as a CNC machinist, fell in love with a really great girl, went to the robotics world championships in Texas, cracked 6’ tall, and got his driver’s license. On the first day of school, all his classmates met at Ka'ena Point to watch the sunrise on the beach, then drove to the memorial for photos. He's so happy right now, I'm nervous for him as we go into SAT testing and university applications. 

He asked for a chantilly cake from Liliha bakery this year (his girlfriend's favorite), so I was off the hook for baking. Unfortunately, I like baking, so I have taken it as a personal challenge to make a chantilly cake for family dinner.

Ironic photo face ("boys don't smile in photos, we're too handsome and cool")

We ordered his favorite Mexican foods, Zenny insisted on carrying the cake while I hovered behind her like a gym spotter because her arms were trembling under all that cream, and my mother FaceTimed in to sing Happy Birthday. I gave him a new PS4 controller (we're still playing The Last of Us together and we keep getting killed because of 'stick drift'), Gavin gave him individually wrapped Pokemon cards and a can of spaghettios that made him break down laughing, Zenny bought him a shirt that says "You mess with the honk, you get the bonk" with a cartoon of a goose with a baseball bat, and my mother and I gave him a mess of gift cards for movie tickets and restaurants around the theater so he can go on dates. He's happy. 

Gavin and the problem child, Billy

Three tiny babies

About to start a diplomatic incident

You mess with this bish, you get the squish (he likes it)

He is now fire-hazard years old

love this kid 

It was a nice low-key birthday, except for the bit where I ran down to the studio in the dark, stepped on a dust pan, and busted my butt falling down the stairs. I will have to be more careful after the man leaves, or I'll end up needing a life alert bracelet. 

(ps, yeah, he's leaving. He's going to take a sabbatical and go back to Rochester with Gavin next semester to "help him find a job", but actually we are separating. I've gone ahead and registered for an online atelier program because I probably won't be able to afford it next year - and also because I'm the one in a "rebellion process" according to the therapy handouts, thank you very much.)