The whole house smells like leather and wood stain mixed with sage and citrus. It’s nice. Earthy…you know, in that natural wood stain way.

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Posted in Twaddle

Nearly twelve years ago, Rick and I walked into the damp windowless showroom of a furniture store specializing in items destined for grandparent’s basements everywhere; except somewhere along the line those grandparents realized how ugly and uncomfortable and impractical those unmentionables were. But we didn’t have any money, so if we planned to upgrade our seating from the stack of cardboard boxes left by the previous residents, Unclaim** Frei**t was our only choice. (See how I let them remain anonymous there?)

We left the store with a couch, love-seat, chair, coffee table, and two end tables totaling no more than $700. Here’s why:

This is an old picture, back before that slightly whitened spot on the far side of the hideous sofa turned into a yeti boot explosion site thanks to this:

After over a decade of sitting on cushions stuffed with foam and candy bar wrappers (by the sound), we decided I was tired of hoisting the vacuum onto the cushions to temporarily make the seating still too hairy to sit on, so we went shopping.

Leather was the choice because hair won’t stick, cat vomit will wipe off easily, and it’s a more lasting material than, say, denim. Microfiber was also an option but water marks from Luna’s crazy drooling look very unappealing on microfiber. We found a few interesting choices but we settled on the Parker sofa by Bernhardt because it was the only sofa that wasn’t slightly orange or purple, and it was the only available model that had removable cushions - which will make cleaning a lot easier for me. It was also the only “pre-faded” sofa, which will make dog scuffs and cat scratches a worn-in feature and not such a drastically noticeable alteration…so I tell myself. Much as I tell myself that leaves are autumnal decorations. I love making things up.

We also added two chairs to the mix but those are a surprise to be photographed Sunday, when everything arrives. However, the chairs are not…

…friendly.

But sometimes sacrifices must be made. Especially when zebra print is involved.

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Wowee, I’m just going to blow your RSS feeders to bits with my overwhelming posts!

I don’t know if all hobbies work this way because, well, I don’t have all hobbies and maybe it’s not the hobby’s fault in any case but my easily bored and distracted nature, but occasionally I slip into non-creative periods. This right here was one of those times.

I’ve been warming up to the idea of sitting down to doodle and paint now that the weather’s getting too cool to barbecue and summer’s on its way to Australia. After the “Man Years” painting I did for my friend’s birthday, I’ve been toying with silhouettes as an escape from detail. They’re so very quick and a lot of fun because I can just suggest an idea instead of having to fill it out completely.

I don’t know how long this new phase will last but at least it’s gotten me back into painting and your feeds. Maybe.

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Posted in Paintings, Twaddle

For the last week and a half I’ve had a constant brain exploding headache and haven’t been able to do much more than unscrew the Excedrin bottle and nap my achy brains away. This weekend I have a date with four or five eyeglass shops to find a new pair of frames and have my lenses updated. Something tells me eight years between new prescriptions might be behind the headaches.

I could be wrong.

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Posted in Twaddle

I’ve completed the Man Years painting sans bayou aspect, which is to say it’s still missing the slime. But this is where I would end it if I were selling the painting to anyone not living in Louisiana and getting constant teasing from me about sludge and swamps and gigging frogs.

This was by far my most detailed painting to date and I had so much fun doing it. I’ve decided to try to make the Man Years paintings a series. This one will be Man Years - Bayou. I’m going to try for just a bunch of cute little old men but with little twists on the canvas to represent certain stereotypes.

If you don’t know what “Man Years” are, be sure to read the previous post.

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Posted in Paintings

When I’m trying to find an easier way of doing something that’s typically difficult, I am one of those people who will sample nine different products before resigning to the fact that I’m just going to have to do it the hard way and get it over with. This can apply to anything from cleaning toilets, bathing the dog, or getting back in shape.

For the latter we purchased a lot of videos (including Body Flex [see above], Tae Bo, and various pilates routines), a treadmill, a strength training machine that goes well with Chuck Norris, and most recently … an elliptical.

Ellipticals are mean. We’ve been using a Schwinn 420 since March 20th and already I’ve dropped a dress size and the pretense that women don’t sweat. We chose the Schwinn because of the great reviews but we settled on a 420 because that was the only Schwinn available in our area without delivery. It’s the most intense workout I’ve ever experienced. If you’re not in shape, even the easiest levels can be tough.

After a little over two months of regular workouts I’m feeling quite a bit better about my body and decided to buy a few things to celebrate the New Me. One thing was this cute red 70s dress from Etsy.

Surpringly enough, despite the fact that my closet is three levels deep with shoes I hardly wear, I had nothing to go with the dress so I grabbed a pair of these too:

There’s nothing that motivates me more than the promise of new shoes. Except, maybe, if those shoes are paired with a purse.

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My best friend, Breeann, was born June 1st, 1981. That makes him one year and approximately three months younger than me. Normally this is not an issue. However, for those not-even-three-entire-months between March and June, it amuses him to no end that I am two years older. Which just proves that men mature at a much slower pace.

I kid.

It’s just him.

To counter this running joke, I’ve determined that while men mature much slower, they age (deteriorate, decay, get not young) at a more rapid pace than women. For every one woman year a man ages six extra months. This would make Breeann 42 years old in man years, a difference of thirteen years, which is way more fun to use and does not merely apply to a three month period.

In honor of this newly discovered fact, and as a belated birthday gift, I’ve started a painting entitled “Man Years.”

It will eventually have blue eyes; cloudy blue eyes with the whites yellowing like an old wedding dress. Tufts of straggly gray hairs here and there and in the ears. And, in homage to his homeland, slime will be dripping from the edges in that sub-southern bayou way.

I’ll be sure to post a picture of the finished painting before I send it off.

This newest painting has given me so many ideas for other illustrations. I believe my drawing block is now over.

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Posted in Paintings, Twaddle