Tuesday, March 30, 2010

The Male Mind

Sometimes I really do wonder how the male mind works.

Out of the blue a few days ago, my darling husband asked me if crossword puzzles are getting easier. "Not that I've noticed," I replied. He brought it up again the next morning so I asked why he was suddenly interested in the difficulty of crossword puzzles.

Carl: "Because I've noticed that you can work practically any crossword puzzle you pick up."

OPEN MOUTH; INSERT FOOT!!!!!!!

Sallie: "Apparently it didn't occur to you that you are married to a well-read, intelligent woman who has a large vocabulary and can spell practically any word that has ever been written?"

Apparently it didn't.


P.S. I'm waiting for him to notice that I sometimes work them in ink.

Sunday, March 21, 2010

Have A Nice Day

Moving from Ohio to North Carolina in the 1980s was quite an experience for Carl and me.

We knew it was beautiful and our winters would be much milder.

Since we'd heard about Southern hospitality all of our lives, we anticipated making new friends quickly.

We didn't anticipate having to learn a new language.

We arrived in Raleigh in March amidst the most glorious flowering landscape we'd ever seen. We thought we were going to melt by the first of June. It was HOT! And I do mean daily, relentlessly, and everlastingly HOT till after the middle of September. Fall lasted till mid-December though and, sure enough, snow was so unusual that schools and businesses sometimes closed in anticipation when not a single snowflake had fallen.

But where were all those friendly people we'd heard about? We couldn't find anyone who wanted to go beyond "Y'all come and see me sometime; hear?" No patio parties, no getting together after work, and no invitations to dinner. Nothing beyond an initial introduction. We did, however, quickly learn about The Wo-ah of Nawthen Aggression and how those nasty Yankees had stolen Great-Great-Aunt Tillie's silverware.

As for that new language? We drove all over the area looking for Marsville and couldn't find it. Turned out to be Morrisville. I looked all over IBM for someone named Leon Hennison. Turned out to be Henderson. Someone yelled, "Hey Sallie!" in the hall one day and I answered, "What?" I thought they wanted something.

We eventually got used to having people carried somewhere and dogs hasslin' but we never did quite wrap our minds around people getting up with us. "Bye" was replaced by "Have a nice day." And we eventually made good friends, although it took a lot longer than we expected. I freely admit that telling people our ancestors were originally from Virginia while keeping our West Virginia and Ohio roots firmly in the background might have had something to do with that in certain circles.

Last week, one of our Atlanta columnists wrote an article about appreciating small things and I suddenly realized what "Have a nice day" really means. Last Friday I read the newspaper and had morning coffee with my husband of many years. I painted till 1:00 p.m. with my Southern Colours artist friends. Late lunch at my favorite Mexican restaurant with my husband, son and grandson was delightful. A brief nap was interrupted by a call from a wonderful friend and that segued into an impromptu visit from our next-door neighbor. All of a sudden it was 6:00 p.m. and only two hours were left before a TV program I was looking forward to called "Who Do You Think You Are." It's about genealogy - one of my favorite things to do.

I hereby want all of my native North Carolina friends to know that I finally get it.

I had a nice day.

Monday, March 15, 2010

Inspiration Strikes!




……………..But execution isn't always as easy as one might imagine.

Most artists find inspiration lurking around every corner, including yours truly. It seems there is a painting everywhere we look. Well, almost everywhere.

Our Southern Colours Art Association is notorious for finding ways of challenging each other to stretch just a little bit beyond our usual capabilities. Last fall, we decided to paint BIG self-portraits. One of my previous blogs includes a picture of me with my very large (3 foot X 4 foot) blank canvas just waiting to be filled with a very large me.

I was inspired! Without even trying, an image filled my mind, complete with a title: "Different Time, Different Place, Same Face." I envisioned a painting of myself as a child in the background and myself as I am today in the foreground. I could hardly wait to begin. I would first do the painting at one-half the size just to make sure my composition was correct and my theory would translate to an exciting painting.

And then the first roadblock reared its ugly head: I had no suitable current picture of myself and I couldn't ask anyone to come and take pictures because Carl and I both had succumbed to what was probably the worst cold and flu either of us have ever experienced.

Mistake #1. I tried to paint when I really felt like just lying in bed.

Mistake #2. I started with little Sallie Anne in the background when I didn't have the second picture to work from.

Mistake #3. I tried taking pictures of myself in the mirror.

Mistake #4. The only halfway presentable one (see above) was taken in our bathroom on a day when I was wearing no make-up and hadn't done anything with my hair. In addition to that, the color was terrible. Since it was the only photo I could possibly work with, I decided to use it.

The first thing I discovered was that little Sallie Anne was way too big and way too bright. Nevertheless, I forged ahead to:

Mistake #5. Trying to make a composition work that was wrong from the very beginning.

After finally recovering from my ailments, I took my half-finished painting to Southern Colours for a critique. Little Sallie Anne would have to be toned down. The more I worked, the more she looked like someone who had died and come back to life as a very sickly ghoul. I decided to take her out, thereby destroying my original inspiration, including the potential title. I forged ahead with the painting of Big Sallie Anne.

Above you see the half-finished painting. The crowning blow was that it was storming that day and, before I could close the trunk lid, rain blew in and spattered the whole thing. Was it God telling me to just give it up?

Whatever it was, I haven't touched it since. There it sits in my make-do studio, looking at me. Two guests have noticed it and commented favorably on big Sallie Anne while little Sallie Anne stares forlornly over her shoulder gathering sympathy. No one, however, has suggested keeping her in the painting.

So should I drag it out and work on it some more? Or should I just chalk it up as a lesson learned?

By the way, my very big canvas has already been filled with the image of my face that you saw in my previous post about that same blank canvas. I didn't happen to be wearing make-up that day either. But that's another story.