The Need For Change

"I hate change", she said as she dumped out her coin purse on the table. She picked out all the quarters in the pile. There must have been at least a dozen or so. She wanted to keep him busy with the video games, so the grown ups could talk. She said that it was okay, because they have so much change. They just keep it all in those big red coffee cans and have several throughout their house. Every once and awhile they go to one of those coin machines and turn it into "real" money.

Her husband hated change just as much as she. An annoying clinking sound always signaled his return from work with each hateful coin dropping into the can.

At that time

the conversation turned to politics and all the change that is happening in the nation. She noticed the play on words, but kept it to herself. She didn't know the other couple too well and didn't want to appear foolish.

She always hated when the subject of politics came up with new friends. You see, she's never voted and neither has her husband. This topic is as dangerous as religion. Talking about either one and your skating around a danger zone.

As it turned out the other couple had never voted either.

They talked about the need for change and if Americans are prepared for it, but not for too long.

Fortunately, the subject changed.

Another play on words she held under wraps.

She then reached deep in her purse and found another handful of quarters, more change.

When the boy had returned to the table, she told him he could keep the change. She had no need for it.

You should have seen the look on his face.

You see, for some people change is a good thing.

I will return next Tuesday.

I won't be blogging for a change.

Talk to you then.

Have a good Labor Day Weekend

MB

The Scent of Acceptance

Farm Proud
16 x 20
acrylic collage
on paper

When the school bus squealed to a stop to pick up the neighbor boy this morning , I found myself trapped in a memory. I never rode a bus to school, but I rode one to a YMCA day camp when I was about 8 years old.
One of the advantages of having a good imagination is that your mind can take a trip to any given memory at any given point. It's like actually traveling back in time. The disadvantage of this great gift is that dealing with the here and now is just not as exciting.
I often get to a place in my mind and then have to take a million steps back to see how I got there. I am always fascinated how a certain sound, smell, or even taste can trigger a memory.
This morning it was the sound of a school bus.
There I was at summer camp experiencing one of the greatest feelings of acceptance I believe I ever had. Remember I was 8. My counselor let me wear her smiley faced t-shirt.
She chose me! I was a happy camper, except I have to inform you that this was a camp held smack dab in the middle of a Texas summer. The shirt was wet with sweat as it hung down below my knees and had that sickly soured scent of body odor.
Yet, I wore it with pride.
I was the chosen one.
I guess,
the drastic measures I would take for acceptance must have started at an early age.
As I close my eyes, I can still smell that smiley faced t-shirt and I am proud.

Araucana

Araucana

16 x 20

acrylic collage

on paper

Blue Jay II

Blue Jay II
acrylic collage
on paper

Puzzle Piece

I made a high pitched squeal and her ears perked up. Her head tilted right, then left and she looked at me with such bewilderment. I often wonder what she is thinking and I have to remind myself that she is just a dog. It's so easy to forget.

With all the thoughts that run through my head, I find myself envying a dog's life. Imagine the simplicity.

I am like her in some respect because when I dig, I get into trouble. I know I am safer behind the studio door. This is where I can suffer the least amount of consequence, or so I believe.

The times that I venture out are the times I find myself lost.

I picture a puzzle I had as a child. My dog, Smokey had chewed one of the pieces . I can recall the frustration I felt not completing the puzzle. I even banged my fists on that chewed piece trying to make it fit.

All my life I have felt that I am that misshapen piece. My gnarled and chewed edges limit me in so many ways.

You can try as hard as you want to make me fit in, but I never will.

Painfully, I have learned to accept this.

Now when I venture out,

I know not to force my edges.

I just place myself a little askew near the rest of the puzzle and it's okay.

Blue Jay

16 x 20
acrylic collage
on paper

Through the Looking Glass

Cardinal
16 x 20
acrylic
collage
on paper

When I read that the male cardinal will spend hours attacking his own reflection in glass surfaces, it reminded me of myself as a teenager. Every night I would spend hours in front of the bathroom mirror attacking every possible pore. I would study myself with intense scrutiny. The other day I saw a teenage boy with an oddly placed band aid on his forehead and it made me smile.

I don't miss that age of uncertainty; so awkward in my own skin.

But I still find myself scrutinizing, only not in front of a mirror.

It's much deeper, more internal.

The male cardinal fights that imaginary intruder he sees in the glass just like a pubescent girl studying herself in the mirror.

Wordless Wednesday

The Neighborhood Band

Trio

1. 16 x 20

initial pencil sketch

on paper

2. 16 x 20

acrylic collage

on paper

Turning down the tune of the Must Do's, that ever playing song in my head , I stole an extra hour of sleep.

Through an open window a band of cicadas played castanets with a trio of unknown birds .

The lead singer scolded her impudent daughter with a bellowing howl

over

and

over

again.

I grabbed my pillow to muffle the noise.

Who left the neighborhood on this station?

Slowly the Must Do's began to sing again.

Stolen slumber was

never found

as I made my way down to the studio tuned into the song I know too well.

House Finch

16 x 20
acrylic collage
on paper

Happy Three Times

1. Pen and Ink
11 x 8.5
sketch in sketch book
2. 16 x 20 beginning stage
acrylic collage
on paper
3. 16 x 20 final stage
acrylic collage
on paper


As a girl I had a yellow bird named Happy.
One day I decided to set her free.
I opened my bedroom window and then the little door to her cage and off she flew.
I don't think I was consciously setting her free.
I expected her to return.
You know, just fly around outside in the real world for awhile.
I waited by the window each day for her return.
Stupid bird.

You can click on the image to see it bigger.
Gone for the weekend-see you Monday
Have a Happy one!

Once Upon A Time

16 x 20

acrylic

collage

on paper

This blue bird looks on ready to begin a wonderful new story.

Each day a different page

collaged with different images.

What flies above and below.

Covered up and exposed.

With or without feathers........

Crow's Call

Crow's Call
16 x 20
collage
acrylic
on paper

The crow was such a familiar bird to her; it always reminded her of home.
She used to love the way it's blackness could be overlooked and taken for granted.
Unlike the other birds in the yard.
This bird spoke to her.
Somehow she identified with it.
The morning her father died she heard one cawing wildly outside her bedroom window.
Crows caw to warn others of impending danger.
Since then
she would never look at a crow the same way.
That familiar bird,
so obvious.
If only she could believe like the Japanese
that these black birds are divine messengers and are
capable of predicting the birth of a healthy child.

Romance

Romance
16 x 20
acrylic collage
on paper

My first painting in my new studio.
I found a hummingbird feeder in the shed out back.
I was so anxious to use it, but all I had was Splenda.
Yesterday I saw a hummingbird take a sip and fly away.
I felt bad,
so I bought a bag of real sugar.
This morning I saw one cautiously circle the feeder.
He must have known.
Hummingbirds tend to gossip.
To his surprise the carb phobic owner had filled the feeder with that sweetness that makes his wings flutter faster and his heart beat better.
Let's just hope he spreads the word.