Birds on Ice

Even though I always say I hate birds, I seem to photograph them and draw them a lot. Here are some on the lake across the street from where I live. I used the 'sport' setting on my camera to catch the seagulls flying overhead.
P.S. I say I hate birds because I have two bird watching sisters. Do you know how boring it is to go on a walk with a bird watcher? They can spend, and I am not exagerrating, HOURS studying a dead, decomposing bird. Yet everytime I ask them about a bird, they never know what it is!
So, yes, this is a photo of seagulls and ducks. Isn't it enough to know that? NO, what kinds of seagulls? What kinds of ducks? Just don't ask my two sisters.

Fixing Your Feet

Fixing your feet is the name of a new link I've added. It's a site run by John Vonhof and it's all about bad feet. Specifically, feet that are injured or could be injured in extreme events, such as marathons or long hikes.
OK, OK, I know this is not riveting information for most people but I've been reading his book, a very big book, from cover to cover for the last few weeks. I read it every night before I go to sleep.
This morning I got up to make pancakes for my husband and there, miraculoulsy you might say, this foot shaped pancake appeared. I photographed it with my favorite Raggedy Anne doll, surrounded by the type of products you would want to use if your foot ever looked this bad.
Don't even think about bidding for it on Ebay, I ate it right after I took the picture. This is my body.

Sunrise Too

Or is this Sunrise #2? I can see this right out my bedroom window, while I'm laying in bed and it is Very distracting. In this case, I had to open the window and let in the below freezing, below zero, air to take the picture.
Personally, I'd rather sleep, but my sleep and my dreams are all shot to hell. Today is the worse day. I actually had to resort to an extra cup of coffee, something I've been trying to avoid as a recovering coffee addict.

A cheap Frame

I 'made' this frame from a cheap $6 frame I bought in a discount store. I took it home, put a glob of gold acrylic paint on a piece of board and used my finger to dab and smear the gold into all the grooves, on the ouside and inside edges of the frame.
If I put too much, I just wiped it off with a paper towel.
I also toyed with the idea of dabbing the whole thing but decided to keep it simple and anyway, I didn't want a gold frame.
You can also admire the photograph if you like. I took it in Prospect Park, played with it in Photoshop and had it printed by Snapfish.

In the Kitchen

A drawing I did yesterday. It was inspired by conversations I've been having and even though these conversations are not directly related to my childhood or even to my mother, somehow, I guess it brought stuff up.
I'm not trying to be unpleasant, just expressing certain truths. MY truths.
It was fun to work in pencil again. I haven't really drawn in such a long time.
Last night, as I lay in bed, unable to sleep as usual, I called on my mother to bring me a dream. "Where are you?", I asked, knowing her body is gone...but where is she?
Nothing.
Suddenly the bed began to move, to turn completely around. I really didn't want THIS kind of response from her. I didn't realize I had segued from awake to asleep, just like that. I got out of the bed and started to run away. Except I was running thru the streets of old New Orleans, where my mother was born.

Blue Dream

This was a dream where I was trying to carry a baby across a street full of jagged shards of ice. In the gutter a frozen river. On the side, neighbors bore witness to my efforts, which seemed to be failing. I slipped and almost dropped the baby...but I didn't.
The street is my childhood home, where my mother died last year and which I never expect to see again. Except I am ALWAYS there in my dreams.
What was most notable was that the whole scene was in shades of blue.
I've been trying to sketch my dreams, without worrying about their perfection or finish. Just painted drawings on paper.

Cassoulet is not a Desert

Well, I forgot to take a picture of the Cassoulet. I guess I was momentarily blinded by it's exotic beauty. A pot of beans and ducky and porky sausages and meats in a clove scented sauce. The restaurant, Capsouto Frere (http://www.capsoutofreres.com) in Tribeca was so elegant, without being stuffy. Meaning waiters who were always there when you wanted something but didn't ask you how you like the food just after you had stuffed food in your mouth. And tables just far enough so you don't feel crowded. Wood paneling and a cute French guy who owned the place. Cute in the Lifetime movie sense, if you know what I mean.

Our Lady of Rice and Beans

This morning I received this beautiful hand made pin from my 'baby' sister, Marina. Yesterday was my birthday and I'll write more about the cassoulet experience tomorrow. But this pin seemed to be the answer to yesterday's meal: You can eat French food till you explode (or stroke out) but there's no place like home. The ultimate comfort food for us is Rice and Beans.
Just look at that face of contentment. Can't you just hear her saying, "YUM". Or, as my late mother, the greatest maker of rice and beans, used to say, 'Num, num!"