Here are a few more paintings I did several years ago. Most are done in acrylic and some in oil. Hope you like them. Comments are welcome. Thanks for visiting.
The Skin I’m In
This is a post I did some months back. I thought it might be interesting to those of you who have not seen it before or even to those of you who have seen it. Anyway, here it is again, hope you like it.
The age of reason starts at seven and suddenly, we are eleven. Our skin at these ages resemble the pages of a well-loved book.
Time passes, our skin forms few wrinkles as the pages of the book begin to form dimples.
The older we get, the skin shows the net, of the years, as the book’s skin starts to begin, to look older you see.
Now we are much older, we become bolder and we look with dismay at the skin we display; then we cover it with creams and makeup it seems.
To our jaded eye, nothing can hide the passage of time, no matter the clime.
In the end we give up, because try as we may; “It really makes no difference,” I say.
Today’s Theme: Skin
The form is: Prose Poetry
The device is: Internal Rhyme
I have decided to do a photo gallery on a bi-weekly basis. Depending on how well it is received, I will continue this as a regular theme. It will be a gallery of photos that I have taken, starting with some photos I have already and some that I will be taking as the weeks go on. I will be interested in what my readers think of the idea.
To begin here are a few paintings I have done over the years. I will be showing more of my paintings from time to time and also photos I have taken in the past, up to recently. Hope you enjoy.
Got the idea from today’s prompt on Blogging 101.
I was out walking along Main Street, as I try to do most days, usually for the exercise and sometimes to buy a few things I need. Main Street has quite a few stores within the several blocks I walk. Several banks, and a Post Office are in the area also which it makes it convenient. Of course a coffee shop or two just happen to be located on Main Street also,which I have been known to frequent on more than one occasion.
As I was walking along deciding where to go next, suddenly a flash of lightning followed by a great noise of thunder struck, making me jump! I decided to duck into the library as it was the closest building at hand. More than a few people had the same idea it seemed as the library was crowded. Of course I did not have an umbrella with me at the time, so I decided to stay for a while. I found an empty chair at one of the long tables and draped my jacket over the back. The library was one of my favorite places so I decided I would pick out a few books and peruse them while I waited for the storm to abate.
I hadn’t planned on getting any more books because I had several at home waiting to be read. It did not take me long to find books by a few authors I enjoy and before long I was deep into the first book I had picked up. When I really get into a book I sometimes lose all track of time. So I did not realize how late it was until the lights flickered and a voice announced that the library would be closing soon. Sure enough it was closing time and a line formed at the take out counter.
As I stood in line, I debated whether I should get any more books at this time. I decided to take the book and check it out since it was so very interesting to me. When I left the library with my book in tow, it was still drizzling but the book was nestled in a plastic bag I brought with me; so I decided to go into the coffee shop which was right next to the library. Maybe the rain would completely stop before I left.
I did manage to finish my latte and also a biscotti before I left the coffee shop and sure enough the rain had stopped! After my experience first with the storm, then the library and lastly a delicious latte with a pastry, I could not have planned such a pleasant day if I tried!
While posting and commenting recently with a blogger I follow, she mentioned that her mother’s name was Marion. Not too many of us out there spelling it with an “o” instead of an “a.” Those who spell it with an “o” are usually men. One in particular, John Wayne, whose name was Marion! He was one of my favorite actors even when I was a youngster. So I was reminded of how I came to be named Marion. There was a story connected to the baptism, mother tells the story like this.
My family grew up Catholic and my sisters and I also went to Catholic school, graduating from there. So of course we were baptized in the Catholic Church. A few weeks after I was born, mother planned a Christening for me, which she did for each one of us kids. A Christening was a party with food, drinks, the works and all the relatives attending, or at least the ones that mother was speaking to at the time. The baby was usually taken to the church by the Godparents, both Godfather and Godmother, with the mother also going if she was up to it and as an afterthought, the father.
Well, mother had a two-year old at home and she was not completely recovered from the childbirth. So only the Godparents and father went to the church with the baby to be baptized. The party would be held later in the day, lasting sometimes into the wee hours, depending how long the keg lasted. Mother and baby would be asleep long before the party ended. As little group arrived at the church, the Godmother, who was one of my mother’s sisters, yelled out;
“I don’t remember what her name is to be,” she shouted.
“What?” gasped the Godfather and father in unison.
“Do you know?” she yelled at father.
“No,” he yelled back. “I am only the father, how should I know? She was supposed to be a boy anyway.”
So the Godparents and father went into a huddle to try to figure out what to do as the priest waited nervously at the church door.
Most people in those days did not have phones and we were numbered among them. So calling mother was out. The baby started fussing and everyone was getting agitated.
Out of nowhere the Godmother came up with an idea. She said, “Well I like Marion Davies, how about we call her Marion? I don’t think Kate will mind. What do you both think?” The two men agreed. Anything to get the show on the road.
Kate was my mother and as it turns out she did mind but by the time she found out, it was too late. Marion Davies was a famous movie star of the day and also a mistress to Wm. Randolph Hearst, the newspaper publisher and big shot of that time. So the little group went into the church and proceeded to get the baptism over with. So “Marion” it was!
When we arrived home and broke the news to mother, she told everyone that I was to be named Rita, which was my father’s sister’s name. She also told father in no uncertain terms that she was not happy about the mix up. However, as far as I was concerned, I certainly did not like the name Rita, much preferring Marion and can’t imagine having any other name.
This is about an “Ideal” Reader for today’s prompt. It is a video of Engelbert Humperdinck singing “Please Release Me” which was one of my mother’s favorites both him and the song. Enjoy!
While I don’t think I write for anyone in particular at least not that I am aware. I know I don’t consciously think about it when I am writing but I suppose I want my mother to like and enjoy whatever I am writing. She was an avid reader herself, becoming more so in her old age. She was living with my sister when she was in her eighties and she started having health problems.
My sister did not have any children and she and her husband had a large home with plenty of room and time to take mother to her doctor’s appointments and out to lunch, which they both dearly loved. The lunch part, not the doctors.
As my mother aged, she read more than ever, so my sister said it was easier going to the library, than buying all those books. Mother also kept up with the politics of the day and could speak on almost any subject. She had opinions on just about everything also, but she would only share them if someone was interested.
So I like to think that she would like my writing and be happy that I am sharing some of our family’s stories with the world at large. My father would not be happy with a lot of my writing which included himself and was definitely not flattering.
Mother was a great storyteller herself and when she was in the mood and had an audience, she could hold people in rapt attention. When I was in high school, my girlfriends would come to visit just to hear mother’s stories.
So I hope she’s enjoying my writing now and is happy that I am carrying on a tradition that she started.