I am now painting a pastel portrait of my dog, Max, a Miniature Pinscher. He passed away several years ago and I haven’t had the heart to do this, but I started it to get more practice in. It’s kind of neat to see him jump of the page and look like I could actually reach out and pet him. I will post the finished picture soon.
Here is a Picture of my own personal glitter house. I replicated the home I lived at for almost 13 years in the 1970’s to early 1980’s. I was in my early teens and lived there until I was 24, and my mother and father were still living. Christmas was always a wonderful time as my mother loved to decorate this house to the brim on the inside, while my father took care of the window boxes and wreaths or lights on the outside.
Since my parents have passed on, I felt the need to “have” something to remember this time and their presence, as I felt a sadness or emptiness, especially at Christmas. This house was somewhat of an extension of them and the way it was designed with that great peak out in the front, just gave it it’s own personality. Years later, I would still drive by this house just to stare and remember the great times we had here. A picture just was not enough.
I had seen these pictures of glitter houses that people made for christmas in all shapes and sizes, and instantly wanted to try and make one, and that’s when it hit me. I will make a glitter house of the house we had the best memories in. I found a photo and just got to work. I looked up how they made the plans, glued it to the base, adding snow-tex snow, etc. And somehow, I ended up with what you see here, although I have yet to add the glitter. Now, I can turn this little house on and feel as if I could walk right up to that door and be welcomed in. I now can say I finally feel peace at Christmas and feel as if we are all together again. This took some time, but it was just so worth it!
Awhile back, I had posted a story about the ice cream man from my past. I had written the story for a children’s writing class and when I did this, memories came flooding back to me. It made me want to search Jolly Joe and see if I could find out who he was and his past or something. I could find nothing on the man.
I wanted to be able to give this story to him or his family to let them know that he was indeed a special man and many people remembered him (just look at my post on him). I recently painted this picture of what I could remember how the truck looked with the bell and asked a local paper if they would put this in the paper with hope of finding someone that knew him, hopefully even a family member. It should be in the Warwick Beacon soon. Hopefully this brings me to someone…anyone that knew him.
But for now, here is the picture of Jolly Joe. Enjoy!
I had put it in a format for submitting t children’s book publishers, but had no illustrations to go with it.
Hello everyone! Hope you had a great New Years!
Just wanted to share this video of a great song I remember from the 1980’s, but you can relate to it even today. This must have really happened to him as it is just too perfect. Just a nice New Years song for celebrating times past. On with the new!
This is a quote I illustrated awhile back which I really love. It’s how I really feel about living and enjoying every minute of every day. Time goes by so quickly. My kids are now 17, 19 and 20 years of age. I was a stay- at- home mom, and I loved it. I wouldn’t have changed any of it.
Today, as I was folding clothes on my bed, I put on an old CD I used to play for the kids when they were small and read their books. It was music from the Beatrix Potter animated series that was on PBS (see below). I love this CD as it helps me focus and think like a child when I have to be creative, drawing,etc. When I started listening, I almost wanted to cry. I could picture the three of them sitting on the couch, curled up reading their books. Their stuffed animals cuddled under their arms while having a snack. I remember this as clearly as it happened yesterday. Times were so laid back then. No homework, studying for SAT’s, driver’s ed and dating problems. It was excitement, playfulness and innocence. Hugs and kisses. I’d take it all back in a second.
Anyway, before I get too emotional, this is what made me want to illustrate this quote. This is what I picture when I read the words. It makes me feel serene looking at the girl on the beach, just enjoying something as simple as listening to a seashell. Can’t you hear it? Enjoy!
Here is another popular reblog. I feel it is appropriate right now because of Halloween approaching and the whole cemetery thing. I hope you enjoy this. It really makes you think.
The Forgotten Ones
The view from my second – story bedroom window is a humbling one. It reminds me how precious life is everyday. The view is of a simple cemetery, not quite historical, but dated, none-the-less.
I don’t mind the cemetery at all. Our house is separated from the cemetery by a stockade fence, a steep slope and railroad tracks that sit down below. These tracks are not for an Amtrak, but for an occasional slow-moving train transferring goods. I take comfort in the fact that know no one will ever build over there, and as neighbors to us, they never make a fuss. The geese fly low overhead and it is very peaceful.
The view to me is comforting, almost like an old friend, now. The same stones greet me every morning when I open up my blinds. Sometimes the view can look rather eerie when there is a low fog rolling in, and then sometimes, it can look overwhelmingly beautiful, like just after a snowstorm.
There are times I have been depressed and sat on my bed feeling hopeless about a situation, and then through teary eyes, I’ll glance over at the solemn view, and my mind starts reeling. Someday that will be me, nothing more than a name on a stone. Who will remember me? The things I liked, the friends I knew. The things I’ve done? Will it all have mattered? Did I make a difference? An impression? Then suddenly, my current problem doesn’t seem so important after all. That could be me over there.
Those stones sit there everyday and I see no one. Not one visitor. Maybe on a very, rare occasion, I’ll see a lone person sitting on a stone having lunch like they are sitting with an old friend, or a car will sit there and someone may get out and wander. I mostly see joggers and walkers, and the occasional person walking their dog, only to have it relieve itself on a stone. Now. that’s a memory I wish not to have when I am gone.
The church in the distance rings out the time at 9:00, 12:00 and 6:00, and I think to myself, how odd that is , especially for those in the cemetery who don’t care about the time anymore. And the stones sit there day after day, alone in the rain…in the snow…surrounded in leaves…and then sometimes, the miniature flags come out, like for Memorial Day. It looks slightly alive for awhile.
I wonder when the cemetery was first new, how many family members must have come to visit here. Year after year, with flowers and small gifts. I can picture groups of families, probably crying and hanging on to each other. Ill bet it was very busy for a long time… and then it just slowly got forgotten. People got older and passed on, moved away or something. The visiting stops and the stones just sit there and look like they are waiting. Waiting for someone to just remember them. The people there. They were here once, talking and laughing. They had families and memories and pasts. How sad. I don’t want this to be me someday, but I guess it will be inevitable.
So, one day, I’ve promised to buy a rose or two. I’ll walk through the plots and read the names and imagine the lives of the ones that lie there. I’ll place a rose on top of a stone, stand back and smile… and maybe, I will even say a prayer.
Then, I will say
to myself, “No, you are not forgotten…not today”.
I am posting this yet again, as I see people still look this one up now and again. Enjoy!!!
Here is a poem from my journal that was written 6/21/93. It is about my children and wanting never to forget all the special memories of their childhood. The red sneakers were Patrick’s, and they were little canvas high tops-so cute! (He had several different pairs, and I even saved a pair of velcro cuties!)
This poem is titled:
LITTLE RED SNEAKERS
I want to remember,
Little red sneakers, sandboxes and swings,
and all the little childhood things.
Joyful laughter-wiping tears, I want to remember through the years.
Ice cream, lollipops and licorice,too,
Wagons and bicycles-a stroller for two.
Christmases and birthdays, when everyone’s over,
Ernie and Bert, Oscar and Grover.
Bathing suits and summer fun, a kiss and hug for everyone.
Carousels and pony rides, cookouts and climbing slides.
A wading pool, chock-full of toys,
Climbing trees is for little boys!
Scampering feet on wooden floors,
Singing kid songs behind closed doors.
Christopher Robin and Winnie The Pooh,
Owl, Eeyore, Kanga and Roo.
Reading books on Mommy’s lap,
“Come on now kids, it’s time for your nap!”
Cookies and milk before going to bed.
Stroking blonde hair on a tired boys head.
The kiss and the hug, the ” I Love You!” before sleeping,
Lies deep within my heart, worth keeping.
These things I want to remember with pleasure.
Worth more than gold,
It’s a mother’s treasure!