Figuratively Speaking - Serena in Gold Shawl

12"x16" oil Price $480

I am tall.  When I was young and healthy and relatively cute, some people would say to me, "you should be a model."  No one ever said, "You should be a jockey.  You should be a gymnast.  or You should be a airline stewardess."  I am so glad I didn't attempt to be a model.  I am sure I would not be where I am today if I had and I really like where I am at today.  No one ever told me I should be a doctor or lawyer or dentist or airplane pilot either.  Honestly, all I ever really wanted to be was an artist.  I wish I had been mature enough and believed in myself enough to have pushed to go to art school and to have been driven enough to succeed.  Problem is, I wasn't.  So if I had gone, I probably would have blown it.  I needed to go through all the trials and made all those stupid mistakes to have learned how to appreciate the opportunities I was given.  I definitely learned from the school of hard knocks.  I wasted a lot of wonderful opportunities and got derailed by my bad choices, but somehow it all worked out. I learned to work hard and be frugal as a young adult by living on "The Farm," an alternative farming community. Later I became a teacher so that, as a single mom, I could see my kids during the day.  Being a teacher was certainly an opportunity to fly by the seat of my pants, but I did learn to be disciplined and efficient.  I learned to identify the objective and find different ways of communicating it.  I ended up being a fairly decent teacher and I learned to love much about the job. Honestly my chance to be an artist came when I married a very stable, honest, man with integrity who played by the rules and had a good  and stable job (pretty much the opposite of me).  It also really helped my parenting.  So when anyone asks me how long it takes to do a painting, I can answer them honestly and say it took a lifetime.  Go Figure!

Figuratively Speaking - Baby Steps #4 - Fall

6"x6" oil pastel, acrylic, water soluble graphite on Yupo   Price $50

Forty years ago, I lived in Summertown, TN, in a community of hippies called The Farm.  That day, Sept. 4, 1977, in my converted school bus, I gave birth to my only daughter who weighed over 10 pounds (the scale the midwives brought only went up to 10 pounds).  She was so perfect.  The first thing I said was, "She looks like my mom."  The second thing I said was,  "She looks like peaches and cream."  Even though I was a hippie, I knew I couldn't name her Peaches, so I named her Ruthann. Her brother, Adam, was interested, but not thrilled. I can't blame him, as he was a month shy of turning 2.  He was still a baby and the apple of my eye.  I thought my nest was full, but then a year and a half later, Harry dropped unexpectedly into our lives, compliments of the Catholic Women's Shelter.  Now they are all adults and I am so proud of them for growing into quality human beings. I have spoken to each of them today and I am so grateful we are close and even friends.   In the last 9 years, I have attended 5 more births, those of my grandchildren.  I know home birth is not for everyone, but it  is for our family and I am so happy I could be part of that tradition.  My totally normal daughter is on her way to the southern coast of Oregon to celebrate her birthday by spending a week in a Yurt with her husband and 3 kids.  The apple does not fall far from the tree....Go Figure!