Profiled at "the Walgreens"

I couldn't decide which emotion to feel just now leaving Walgreens: humor or insecurity?

You know those machines at the checkout register that spit out (more like vomit) those coupons? One day it cranked out SIX coupons, with a line of impatient people behind me. The cashier kind of guilts you into waiting around for them, and I really like to do my part to keep peer pressure alive, so I stood right there like a doofus until it was done. With the exception of an occasional "$1.00 OFF" they are never for the products that I actually use. For example, you buy milk and get a coupon for bunyun pads. I've often wondered why they are so random and polar.

And then there was today's trip: vitamins. Lots and lots of vitamins. Last night when I couldn't sleep, I used my time to research vitamins for this and that. I have self-diagnosed a biotin deficiency (thank you, internet.) I found a great hair, nail and skin formula and since they had lots of others on BOGO sale, I stocked up on iron tablets. I guess that was the OLD LADY vitamin-combo jackpot, because that stupid machine gave me three coupons, none of which were for vitamins.
I got one for HAIR COLOR -- because Coupon Machine Programmer assumes if I'm on a supplement binge I'm getting gray, too? One for ADULT DIAPERS -- because if I'm graying, surely I must be "lauging and leaking"? And finally, one for CAT TREATS -- because if I'm gray and wetting myself, certainly I live with a house full of cats??

I really need to write a letter of complaint, but one of those three is correct. :P

DPG

Little Ladies vs. Jail Bait

When I became a mom, gone were the days of acting on impulse and impromptu shopping trips. Now, even for a trip to the grocery store, I've got to dress three people. Thank goodness because it used to be four with Liv. Sometimes I think it's not worth the hassle and consider ordering everything online from deoderant to bread.

Today, after (once again) not being able to find anything I was looking for that the girls could wear to town and NOT embarrass me, I vowed to buy them both enough nice outfits to last a week without doing laundry. I was ready to melt that bank card if it came down to it. As is always the case, you either have the means but can't find a thing, or you see endless possibilities and have a very limited pocketbook.

I dragged the girls through JCPenney, Kohls, Belk, Dillards, and finally Old Navy.
I should have returned home with a steamer trunk full of precious things for them, but never have I been so disappointed. Who is in charge of buying for these stores?!
I expect to see tacky crap at Walmart, but the department stores? I had my heart set on some adorable seersucker capri sets. Inventor of Seersucker, oh how I put you on a pedistal! You rescue me from that menial task of ironing, and let me fish things out of the dryer and sling them directly on my kids! Where was your genius today?

All my eyes could see store after store were these tacky, cheap, short, jail-bait looking clothes...for preschoolers! Just take a stroll through the little girls department next time you're out. Everything has glitter. No. Everything has something metallic plastered across the front. NO! Who is designing this stuff? They obviously don't have female offspring--can't have. Did anybody do market research for this customer base? "Hello, ma'am...tell me, what are you looking for when you dress your toddler?" (insert Walmart dialect here) "Waell, I like those slip on tattoo sleeves (BTW, I actually saw these in Walmart!) lots of black, metallic, attached chains, and some lace to make it fru-fru like that Hanner Montaner."

Today, I almost took a picture of a t-shirt that said "I ♥ WOLVES". Huh?? Other t-shirts I saw that will never be seen on my daughters: "Juicy", "Naughty but mostly nice", "I'm Purrrr-fect", "Rock It", something about "I've got happiness growing in my garden", and other suggestive slogans. Seriously? That's so stupid. I'm knocking myself out trying to raise little ladies and everything out there is trying to mold them into potential jail bait. I never wore shorts that looked like panties, and my daughters won't either. A three year old doesn't need to work a mini skirt, either.

I did find a couple of really cute things at Belk today, but since it was an early stop on my list, I scoffed at paying the still-high sale price. I guess the laugh is on me because it was the classiest thing I saw all day.

So, I guess I could have taken the easy route and come back with a few bare-back ensembles, but I passed. No new spring attire, however, my solace is rooted in the hope that they will never have a mugshot.

DPG

Don't Bury Your Talent

I've knowN since the third grade that I've had an artistic talent. It was then that my teacher suggested to my parents that I be given art lessons. Never happened. I didn't get an opportunity again for classroom artwork until my first year of college.
Off and on, I've burried and used that talent, never being consistant with either.
Recently, I've decided to change that for the good. (Makes it sound like a superpower when I say it like that, huh?)

After nearly six months of sewing up a storm, my sad little Singer has been pushed to the the back corner, literally. In it's place, an array of paints, brushes, canvases, charcoal vines, and of course my trusty easel. Finally, everything has a place and stays scattered just like a real studio should look. For once, a disheveled room in my house that's supposed to look that way.

My office and studio space sits behind two silky burnt-orange panels of fabric that hang across the wide opening of an 'intended' dining room. (A waste for the All-American family we are, eating every dinner parked in front of the TV.) The curtains give me privacy when I work and provide a hiding place from my organized chaos. Recently, I treated myself to a small CD stereo with a REMOTE! Perfect for the girl who can change her musical mood on a dime. I've tried FM radio - too many commercials. I've tried CD compilations that I've burned, but none compares to my old standby: Rod Stewart. The Great American Songbook album is so....je ne sais quoi. It's smooth, romantic, playful, raspy. I love it; Jason says he just keeps waiting for Rod to clear his throat. :/ Whatever. I just seem to get lost in the melodies and can paint effortlessly to it.

"Painting effortlessly" is not something that I do of my own accord. I must give credit where it is due, and that is to my Heavenly Father. This talent that comes through my hands is from God and I recognize that. It fulfills me like no other task I attempt and it pours so much joy into my life. It feels so good to create works full of vivid color and movement seen in the brush lines. When I finish a painting, I have usually formed an attachment to it. Crazy as that sounds, it's so true. It's something that I've grown to love as I've poured over it, making it 'just right'. If I don't love it, it's not ready to go. Selling my first few paintings recently was bittersweet - I loved them so, I didn't want them to leave. However, knowing that someone else connected with what they saw made my heart full. Another person found something they wanted to treasure. You cannot ask for a better reward.

I do paint from my heart, about things that I love, and things that inspire. If you know me at all, you're already aware of the stories behind certain symbols in my work. Besides bright colors, I've always been drawn to curvy lines and scrolls; can't really explain that one. Pineapples have been something I've collected for nearly twenty years. On a trip to Jamaica, I bought my very first pineapple carved from wood from a young boy on the beach. I have a countless collection of them now: glass, wood, copper, enamel. They symbolize hospitality and what self-respecting Southern girl can deny that? Fleur de lis always remind me of my sister, Susan. That seems to be her thing and she has her own collection scattered throughout her home in Starkville, MS. The peacock feathers will always represent my Memaw. No, she was not a peacock, nor did she collect peacocks. :p She did, however, have a huge clay vase in her hallway chock FULL of shimmery peacock feathers. If you were to ask the kid in me, "she had a million". Every visit I made to her house (and there were many) I'd ask (more like plead) for just o n e feather. I was shot down every time, too. Now that I've got kids, I know why she said no. If I got one, we all had to get one. She wasn't about to dole out a fist full of feathers to rowdy kids who would likely be 'over it' in mere minutes. Plus, I'm kind of "partik'lar" about my stuff. When I get something arranged, don't touch it. Kapish? The sweet ending to that story, though, is that on my 23rd birthday, she gave me her present (don't even remember what was inside) and taped to the top of that box was...a single peacock feather. When she died, I don't know what happened to those feathers, but what I wouldn't give for them today.

So, the next time you look through my paintings, please know that I'm not just painting to be painting. It's coming from my heart - memories, love - and hopefully finding it's way right into yours.

What talent are you sharing with others?

DPG

Navy SEAL Girl Scouts

**WARNING -- THIS POST CONTAINS A BAD ATTITUDE. VIEWER DISCRETION ADVISED**

I'm not necessarily in a bad mood or anything, but I have got to air a gripe. When the crap did Girl Scouts of America get so dang bold and annoying? They just don't quit and they are everywhere you don't want them to be! Now, before anybody out there gets up on their high horse, I need to tell you that as a former GS (and Brownie, thank you very much) I feel I have the right to speak on this subject.

It had to be the late seventies or early eighties when I was in the GS mix and sold those saaame cookies. Although back then, you didn't have to take out a small line of credit to order several boxes. I barely remember selling them door-to-door, but can tell you with much assurance, these timid brown eyes DID take no for an answer. There was no "push"...no "pressure". You knoked, got an order(or not)then schlepped along to the next house. That's not the case of the GS of today, at least not in Baldwin Co. They are everywhere, like a little army. Complete with Sniper Girl Scouts. Those are the ones that are NOT dressed in any sort of uniform identifying themselves. They're the ones that catch you off guard with their drill-sergeant voices booming in your face, but all giggly in the same breath: "Wanna buy some cookies?" Where is your mom/leader anyway? Oh, wait, I see her...holding up that terrible homemade sign on the side of a busy state highway outside the Lowe's.
Tell her that her arm flailing and jumping doesn't win me over. It only makes me take the long way around.

So, there they were crawling all over at Lowe's, but I escaped. I went about running my errands and I was getting pretty tired, but I still had another stop to make: Sam's Club. I despise having to shop there because it takes forever and a day to check out. Whomever I meet after that may as well consider themselves behind the proverbial eight ball. You know what I'm gonna say, too. Thankfully, their table was only at one of the three entrances and I was not about to be captured by their little army. I'd even let an elderly civilian lady face the brunt of the mob when we both happened to walk in at the same time. Oh, well...she should have worn her good compression socks and walked a little faster like me. On the way out, Sniper GS cornered me: "Would you like to buy some of our cookies? This is the last weekend." "Hell no, I don't want any cookies...didn't you just see me come out of Sam's where I can buy 1,000 for $10?" *eyeroll* Okay, I didn't really say that last part, but I sure wanted to.

Just seeing them everywhere I went that day was grating on my nerves, and I don't really have a particular reason. No, wait, I do. It just irks me that these little girls are so aggressive and have an in-your-face sales approach. Do they really go to boot camp? Whatever. I was tired and I since I hadn't had one in a while, a beer sounded good. It was dusk now, as I pulled across the way to the Shell station.
"Shit! Girl Scouts!" I kid you not, there was a minivan backed up to the front door, truck door flung up to heaven and they were still hawking cookies!! "Ma'am, do you want to buy some GS cookies?" "Nope", I answered without flinching and sashayed right on into The Beer Cave to get what I (now so desperately) needed.

Plus, cookies and beer doesn't have the same ring to it anyway. Pbbttt. It's out of my system now, at least until next spring.

DPG

Fulfillment

I feel like I need to reintroduce myself, I've been away from my blog so long. I am happy to tell you that I've been busy doing something that I love down to my bones, and that is making art.

When we bought this house four years ago, it belonged to a very sweet older lady who'd made it her home for twenty-plus years. She had lost her husband a few years before and was planning to move to Tennessee to be closer to her son. She had the sweetest spirit and you could tell lived many happy years under this roof, which the husband built, literally. As soon as we walked in to look at the house, it felt like home. It didn't have all the flashy bells and whistles of the newer houses we'd been looking at or even the modern feel of our rental house. Still, it had a great big kitchen, a shady covered patio and a beautiful full-grown oak adorning the front yard. This was the place for us.

Surprisingly, Mrs. Myers told us that she wanted us to have her dining room furniture, which was an 8-foot table (you know, one of those tables you can't hurt?), six chairs and a china hutch. It wasn't my taste, but it was so generous I couldn't say no. Turns out, that space has evolved into my office and art studio. I've put up some gorgeous draperies across the entryway for privacy...mainly to hide my projects in progress. That big table I thought I'd never use has been the very spot that I've set up my sewing machine, where I cut out dresses and skirts, and also where I mix paints on my palette to create my artwork. This weekend, I put a small CD stereo on top of the filing cabinet and I listened to Rod Stewart's "Stardust: American Songbook" while I painted. It's taken four years for that light bulb to turn on, but in hindsight, I recognize this as one of God's mysterious ways -- He provided, through sweet Mrs. Myers, a place for me to nurture and utilize the talents He placed in me.

Not long ago, Mrs. Myers passed away. She was in her late eighties. I think about her gift to me and how much more it's come to mean. All the little things slowly came together to create a sense of fulfillment in me and I am ever grateful for the process. I hope my journey will be long and fruitful as was hers, and I hope that the things I create and leave behind will inspire or help someone else along the way.

I am just happy as a lark to be creating things again. My Daddy had to get in his "I told you so" when I called to tell him I'd sold four paintings last week. He's been my biggest fan for years. Only time will tell where this will take me, but I'm doing what I love, making a little money along the way, and that's really just good enough.

~DPG