BEACHWALK

After an evening sharing life stories and lots of drinks with a couple of English chaps, Ellis and I recouped at the pool yesterday. My love read the skimpy newspaper and, dozed off his morning after hangover, while I painted and drank tons of water. On holiday, we still think we can do what we did as kids without consequence. We learned the hard way, only in our dreams. Damn.

Through my haze, My throbbing head noticed why I was having painting difficulties. I had bought the wrong watercolors. I bought Grumbacher opaque, when I usually--always--bring translucent. I didn't even know watercolor pads came with a thickness option. I told you I wasn't a watercolorist. --But I do know my way around acrylics and that's how I'll use this paint. For the first time, I finally understood the materials in my bag. For the first time, I also realized I wouldn't mind having both sets. It would be nice to have a choice of approach. These do not do thin very well.

I like the way this alla prima, plein air, abstract came out and have higher hopes for my next paintings. I have one small complaint: there's not enough gray in these sets of paint pads.

BEACHWALK, watercolor, 9"x12"

Towels

Ellis and I need eight towels, four each, on the lounge at the pool. Multiply us by many and that's a lot of laundry! Nevertheless, four is a necessity: two to cover the cushion; one to roll as a pillow; and one to use for drying off. With the hotel filling up the closer we get to the holidays, the towel guys are seldom seen in the towel kiosk. They are out earning a living, most of which comes from tips people seldom give. People think their service is covered by the cost of the room. It isn't.

Ellis and I are tippers. I think because one of our sons, years ago, quit his first job as a bellman. He wasn't making enough money. He was't getting enough in tips to make up for his low wages. I figure these young men who take care of the towels and carry our luggage are somebody's sons. I like to make them happy in their work. And the young men are very appreciative. Our lounges are made up before we get there--yesterday with a gift from the sea: a nearly perfect conch I can lift to carry home, mui dulce.

THE TOWEL KIOSK

Friday Sunrise

Worries are gone. It takes me a while to let go. The trip started rough with a bout of vertigo a couple of days before we left. Dizziness sends me up a wall. This Capricorn goat appreciates firm footings and when mine are not, I panic off balance. Thankfully, I'm blessed with a physician son and the smarts to pursue treatment. Today's the last pill. My head feels clear and the bit of waviness that's still present isn't anything I haven't had before in humid climates. Physically, my holidays should be spent in Arizona, not by the seashore. But I'm a swimmer and you can't swim in sand.

Some guy looked at this ten minute sketch of him chatting while drinking his beer in the pool and said, "you've got some talent." I thanked him while laughing to myself at what I didn't say, "this is shit. You should really see how I can use a brush." His wife came over to take a look, "It's better than I could do." Maybe plein air painting isn't for me? Too public--but telling the world about my Meniere's problem isn't. I need a few more days of R&R.

FRIDAY SUNRISE

Pairs Paint Pears

Pear, markers/water

 Snow showers on Black Friday, Georgia and me warm in the kitchen chatting non-stop, sketching lemons and pears on the countertop. In the great room, Ellis napped and Son #2 read Dostoevsky in front of the fire. We were recuperating from the ordeal of cooking our first turkey in years the day before. While the bird came out okay, I really thought we would have to rush my brave lad to the emergency room for burn treatment where I would be arrested for abuse.

Georgia's contour sketch

I am not skilled when it comes to working a baster. While attempting to subtract the great amounts of liquid that had filled the roasting pan to near over flowing, I kept losing some before I got the tool over the receptacle. The boiling mix of olive oil, butter and turkey fat splattered and dribbled all over the oven door crawling into spaces  meant to be kept dry and narrowly missed the bare arms of my darling son who was supporting the oven rack for this fumble-bum cook.  To everyone's relief, the ordeal passed with no harm done. The oven, however, wasn't as lucky.  It needs a professional cleaning. The  turkey, which was technically half poached/ half roasted,will never be made again in this household. It came out fair, but scared me to death and whacked us out of running any Black Friday sales marathons.

While others stormed the malls, my daughter in-love practiced her contour drawing. I dabbled with markers. We discussed the depths of shadows and from the warmth of the scrubbed down kitchen watched the winds blow and the snow showers coat the street with black ice. We were going out to dinner no matter what.

Nothing As Gourmet As Turkey

Carousel, watercolor, 2012, collection of Ms. Allison Friedman

Ups and downs,  round and round, no stopping in the same spot as the spot before. So the carousel turns. Unless something spectacular comes out of my last Painterly Pastel class Wednesday, I'm jumping off my blog spot today. My schedule is tight for the next two weeks. No time to paint.

 Son #2 and his lady are visiting for a week. When we wave goodbye, I have another week to add some sunshine to these fading tresses, some sparkle to these phalanges  and shut down the house.  Then two weeks of watercolor on the beach in Mexico. All and all a month of fun-- first  hugs, then  the intoxicating aroma  of sun screen in the salt air. It's time to put My Guys aside and get the turkey started.

Roth Thanksgiving 2010.  Son #1 did the honors.

I don't remember the last time I made a whole bird , but it doesn't read that hard* --after I shoot one.   Maybe I should give my lad a shilling--no a half a crown-- to run and get the prize bird hanging in the poulterer's window? Oops wrong holiday.

Wrong food. Nothing as gourmet as turkey was served at the first Thanksgiving. I'm jumping the arrow.

Held in 1621 in Plymouth, Massachusetts, the celebration was one of thanks for making it through the first year. Only half the Pilgrims survived that year of hardship. The feast was thrown by Governor Bradford and lasted three days. They ate ducks and geese and drank the beer they brought over the Atlantic on the Mayflower. The Wampanoag Indians,  who were kind enough to teach them how to cultivate the soil, were invited of course. The Pilgrims couldn't possibly have served their honored guests turkey.

Turkey feathers were too valuable. The Wampanoag used them on their arrows to stabilize them in flight. True aim was a priority and wild turkeys were difficult to kill. They could run twenty miles per hour and fly fifty miles per hour. The ones we buy, can't fly at all. A more authentic dish  would be something I could catch--like a chicken.  I caught one at the Kroger just last week; it's in the freezer. We're set.for Thursday.

Whatever you eat to celebrate your coming to America and surviving to tell your tale, have a lovely holiday my fellow countrymen. Happy painting my fellow bloggers.  Y romper el tequila mis amigos, Linda se encuentra en su camino.

* An easy recipe for turkey, so the chef says:  http://www.howtocookathanksgivingturkey.com/ 

A Little of This and A Little of That Too

What's it going to be?  Crimson Fall or Spring Dogwoods amongst the green?  

The Dogwood in my courtyard is having an identity problem. One half is green with budding  flowers. The other half is crimson red and dropping leaves. Strangest thing I've ever seen. I hope the green wins, but I'd bet the crimson. It's thirty four degrees and not going to be much warmer.

The Blond Kids is done and signed . 

 There's no identity problem with The Blond Kid though. She's herself alright. In spite of having a flu-like day, I did manage  finishing touches and a signature I have to practice with oils. It always looks so klutzy. My problem is I really do hate using those tiny brushes. Isn't there an oil pen out there that would do the job with a bit more finesse?


The UPS guy rang the bell twice this week bringing me art related materials. I finally bought myself a real mahl stick and some decent size tubes of Naples yellow which has become my favorite "flush" tone for little white kids. It doesn't scream. It's not pushy. It's totally easy to mix just a little this way and a little that. Perfect. I had all of the items
spread on the breakfast room table when Honey
walked in, eyed them, and remarked,"You have anymore art stuff on the way?" I could tell by his
tone that he thought I was spending our disposable income over the top. I didn't have the heart to tell him I was expecting Henry Yan's Figure Drawing (Tips and Techniques) the next day.

Yan's book is going to be the book that kicks me out the door to that studio session on Saturday mornings; just looking at the drawings made my hand itch to hold a piece of charcoal. His descriptions of how to  obtain different quality lines with charcoal (and of course that info would apply to pastel) made me think I should get out the newsprint pad for a little experimental line session. I never really had anyone tell me there was any other way to use the sticks than holding them sideways.

 As I was leafing through it, another book came to mind: Dynamic Figure Drawing which advocates being able to construct figures in many poses off the top of your head without a model.  Yan's constructive style of circular geometric forms made me think I should pull that book out too for an anatomy review. My books are piling up. But I'm very well prepared for bad weather days in front of the hearth--or a life without Honey who should never get involved with any other activity besides work. How else can I keep that UPS guy coming to the door with art goodies everyday?

My cocktail table art books runneth over. So far there are two "bibles" on this table: Alla Prima and A Passion for Watercolor, Painting the Inner Experience, which stresses the wet into wet method, the only watercolor method that offers the immediacy I favor.

A Little This, A Little That

FROM ACROSS THE CONTINENT,
I GOT TWO PHOTOGRAPHS OF INTEREST FROM FAMILY:

A hawk dining on pigeon is hardly something someone expects to see at football practice. Yet
there he was. After eyeing my DIL and assured she was not moving, the hawk finished his dinner.
(Sorry for the digital distortion. Hawks don't like  too little space between them and homo sapiens).

My step great grandson's first hand picked Halloween pumpkin.  It's a doozy.
(Sorry for the blurriness, but the pumpkin was heavy).

The excitement of the day was cleaning the watercolor, pastel station that had gotten out of hand and organizing the pastel supplies that have been coming in steadily from online sources. I'm exhausted, but I'm ready for next week. Cluttered and dirty went to sparkling clean with a lot of walking in between the messy studio and the space that shouldn't be studio space. This previous to any workshop or reading painting  is a painting I like. I like the angle. I like the authority that shows.

Ellis at The Seashore, 8" x 10",  2012 ,oil.

Aside from cleaning and stumbling into old work, I saw a design client this morning and by noon had an "As Built" floor plan and a recommended floor plan for a master bath ready for quoting. Last week's master bath, plus two more baths, fell through. Her wish list was too big. Her master bath space was insufficient for her wish list. She didn't have a budget. She was going to need a lot of drafting and shopping time. She did not want to pay a retainer fee for the assistance she required.  We parted. She went off to find a new house. I went off to see another potential client. This woman has one bath,(a limited wish list), knows what she wants, said it clearly and has a  reasonable budget.  I don't need a retainer fee; she's my kind of gal. Her decisiveness leaves my next two days free to paint.

Clean Plate

My Clean Plate

After a day of design, laundry and an emergency trip out to assist a client suffering with indecision, my plate is clean. Follow up appointments have been made and Tuesday and Wednesday are looking like good studio days. I am looking forward to them.

This master bath was the biggest challenge of the projects that suddenly came in. The client wanted a two person shower, a two person vanity and sit-down make up station. The existing cantilevered cathedral ceiling was/is the problem.

 It's cathedral-- and also not--and has a circular window up at the peak that makes "on center" with the vanity design preference she cut from a magazine impossible. What do you do? Tell her she can't have it? No. You ignore the window, build a soffit,  under it, connecting the lower ceiling portions of the room and go from there. You think she'll like it? I have no idea. Next Friday, we'll see.

What you see here is the floor plan and the elevation of the vanity wall with a cross section of the requested two person shower with a seat, which is way too large and will have cold spots while she's in it--and when she gets out of it. There's no place for a venting/heat fan near the shower, because that's where the ceiling goes way up and the warm air with it.  After twenty seven years of experience, the estimated cost will be close to fifty thousand dollars, a very pretty penny. Next Friday, we'll see just how pretty (or ugly) this penny is. "God protect me from what I wish for" applies here.

WHAT APPLIES HERE?

While the rest of the trees around my house are doing this:

Autumn Red and gold among the greens.

My Japanese Dogwood is doing this:

It flowered in late May/early June like it should. And it's flowering again now in October
with the temps in the forties like it shouldn't. Very odd.

Hand Me That Canvas.

HAVING GONE AS FAR AS I WANT TO GO WITH THIS STUDY, I'M READY TO FORGE AHEAD--AFTER I FOOL AROUND WITH SOMETHING ELSE A LITTLE LESS DEMANDING--LIKE FLOWERS.

Danger! Danger! Run Away!

I threw out the roses. And I'm reading a book that makes me think of art as merchandise--a product to be promoted and marketed. Dirty words to me for years. Business words. Policies and paper work,supplier hunts and sales mishaps--the stuff of W-O-R-K. The stuff of a thing called a J-O-B. So I ran away from those thoughts and retrieved the roses and painted them again this morning to warm-up. I think I like this rendition the best. Back to the portrait this afternoon. Got a good charcoal drawing yesterday, much better than the first. I'm starting to get a feeling for the subject.

RAMSHPRAM

I'm still cleaning out picture files and freeing up memory, (which I should have been doing all along), but I've given up being concerned about the amount of RAM I have. "External hard drive" was the immediate, inexpensive solution, my sons suggested. I do get curious when I read and do have to poke the information if it makes sense, sometimes way too seriously.

The birthday roses are really dead now and stinking up the lower level,(a phrase we use around these parts to describe a furnished basement that opens to the great outdoors). Honey is starting to complain--as if he really spends any time down there to smell their decay. So I did one more watercolor and the bunch went into the trash leaving me with a lovely purple glass vase--and the above painting. And that's how inventory grows.

Before I got wrapped up with RAMSHPRAM, I figured product was the thing to concentrate on if one is thinking about going into business. If I'm reading and not painting, there isn't going to be any product, albeit merchandise, to hang on the walls of any gallery be it in cyberspace or on a city street. Product first. Office equipment second--or third--or forth...Promotion seems to be something to think about too? After all, who the hell is L.W.Roth? She's an over-the-hill broad who has decided to put herself out on a limb.

Maurice, Maurice, Maurice

I had invited the girls to lunch.

I had ordered the food last night for pick-up at 11:00 AM.

It was snowing when I got up at six--and snowing and snowing and snowing as I set the table. If I had been invited to lunch on a day that looked like this one was going to be, I would have cancelled; I'm a wus when it comes to driving in blizzard conditions.

Still, at ten o'clock, neither of the gals had called. I was in awe. My friends were obviously snow hearty drivers--one, a nurse, the other a gal who had lived her life in Kalamazoo (lots of lake effect snow there). She was no stranger to winter driving; maybe the lunch was still a go?

I gave the house a wipe and a polish. There's nothing like having company to get you moving on cleaning stuff you should have cleaned weeks ago.

Honey trekked out to pick up the Maurice salads and homemade chips at ten forty five. He would have made a great mailman.

My friend the nurse called around eleven. She'd been out and everybody was slipping and sliding all over the place. She was worried not about coming, but about going home. I understood. I gave her a snow-check.

I called Kalamazoo and told her the nurse had said it was treacherous out. Kalamazoo thought it might be a good idea to get back in her jammies and cancel her evening plans as well. I agreed. Snow-check all around.

At noon, the sun was shining, the snow was sparkling and the sky was a brilliant cobalt blue. Talk about some nasty timing! BUT:

Bad luck, good luck, who can tell? Bad luck for camaraderie. Good luck for straightened bookshelves, spiffed up studio sink, polished lazy susan--and bringing the first large acrylic painting of 2012 to the observation stage. Hanging on the wall under the picture lights for a day or two, the final finish won't be too far off. I'll make my self-imposed deadline. --How important is that? I'd rather have been laughing with friends; studios are lonely places.

Maurice, Maurice, Maurice, guess what Honey and I are having for lunch, and dinner, and...?

Love Those Q -tips !

Love that paper toweling too. When I hit the watercolors, I just can't shake my habit of adding paint and then subtracting it. With the top one, I drew wet into wet with both Q-tips and paper toweling wound up till it became an absorbent stub-like tool. I treated the Q-tip as a brush and wet it first. I used the toweling to mop up wherever I wanted highlights or a lighter value or a half tone. I know the white of the paper should be the bright spots, but I've been working with acrylics too long not to want that luxury with watercolors too.

Painting flowers cheers me up no matter the result. I woke up this morning feeling blue and brightened up the minute my brush hit the paper.(It's hard to believe I used to hate painting flowers). I was having such a good time playing in the water, slopping and mopping and etching, I did two to make up for not doing one on Monday. I brought yesterday's effort forward, because I like to see them all together.

Below, you see the a watercolor I was less than pleased with last week ; it was so evenly balanced, it looked like a print pattern. Folded into thirds though, it looks like an invite to a swell get together. I used a Hallmark seal where I think a personalized wax seal should be placed--my friend Linda was the only one I ever knew who actually had one made with her initials. The whole thing fits into a business size envelope--OR you could just put an address label on it and mail it. I think I will, as soon as I figure out what kind of shindig I should have and who should I invite?

Winter Outside, Summer In

Gaillardia #1 went out the door this morning and is en-route to California in an impressive crate my children will have to figure out how to trash. Aging moms are always a problem.

Not anymore for my old neighbor's kids. She passed away leaving them two pianos and an organ to dispose of before they sell the house. I never heard Betty play solo. She and I did have a lot of laughs playing duets and drinking wine late into the night while the fathers babysat. I haven't seen her in decades, but we've talked every now an then. She was a pistol. I liked her. I loved our duet sessions.

THE FLOWERS OF THE WEEK ARE DAISIES/BUTTON MUMS AND IRISH BELLS. All are long lived, perky, cheerful and fun to paint in winter between painting sessions of Winterwhich is looking gloomier than what it looks like outside--with the exception of the town in Alaska who can't see the outside over the eighteen inches of snow that made them all shut ins till the National Guard arrived to shovel them out. Can you imagine!

January Daisies #1

Adobe Flash Brain Cloud

DAY THREE OF SWEET CHOICES #2, A WORK IN PROGRESS:

I was in no mood to watch paint dry. I kept layering it on--sometimes thickly, sometimes just a wash. I was glad to be back in the studio where there's nothing perplexingly tricky. Just me and the paint and BB King,(who I Face Booked to ask him if he enjoyed painting together every afternoon as much as I did). The following tale of woe will explain my very loose handling of the paint. You can listen to the video, or not. But I do wish you would; I got a horrible brain cloud getting it into this post.



This video is a really big triumph for me: it's here and I can download more if I want.

Since last week when I closed a post with "There's always going to be something with you; isn't there Joe?"--a Meg Ryan line from the cult movie Joe Versus the Volcano--I have been trying to download any You Tube Joe video and couldn't. Somehow Adobe Flash, an included feature with Google Chrome, was suddenly not enabled and I couldn't for the life of me find out how to do that till yesterday. For others who have had this same problem suddenly take over their lives, and who have wasted days reading help forums that only pose questions and never provide answers, here's what worked:

Type in About:Plugins in the very top Google Chrome address bar; click details in the upper right hand corner of the page; find Flash and click enable. Close Google Chrome and restart.

This information came painfully--lots of trying to download Flash, lots of uninstalling and re-installing Chrome and Flash Installation, lots of getting rid of all downloads (after the horse left the barn) that may have poisoned my system, lots of security systems telling me lots of stuff was wrong with my computer. BUT I DID COME THROUGH AND EMBED A CLIP FROM JOE VERSUS THE VOLCANO AND HERE HE IS THANKING GOD FOR HIS LIFE. I'm thanking God for Flash, being back in business with You Tube, and in the studio where I know my way around.

It Didn't Rain

It didn't rain over the weekend, but I found this shot of a downpour and a surprisingly close up shot of my Christmas/Thanksgiving/Easter cactus (it blooms all those holidays) on my memory card after coming back from stalking Fall in the woods behind the house. I like the washed out, (I couldn't resist the pun),pale colors and the subtle striped/grid pattern in the rivulets of rain streaming down the windowpane. I like the blackness of the macro shot. I don't recall what I was doing by that plant at the time, but I really was into it. Both these photos intrigue me and I can see them as future paintings. Bonus shots aside, I failed at my real mission.I didn't come across a decent shot of Fall for the Four Seasons quadtyck on my back burner. It's only the first week of the season with the temps still in the fifties at night, I've got time.

Sweet Choices is nearly finished. I've got the cards left to paint telling how much and whether it's a tort or a tart or pie or danish. I learned something with this one: It seems that if I'm painting on structured canvas, no matter what the thickness of the stretcher bars, I don't sketch, I paint and it takes some time. For me sketches fast and are on paper. --And something else: If I have any plans of making pastries on display shelves a triptyck, the order of the painting stack must follow the light pattern that would exist in the case, i.e. the farther removed from the light source, the darker the painting. Ain't going to be easy. Might have to be out and about with my camera again? I think I took this shot in Greek Town downtown?

And that was the weekend that was except: like a dummy I stuck my sinus allergy nose right into the middle of a fragrant new wild flower I came across and got instant headache, a bummer headache. It sent me home to watch Bridesmaids which made the headache worse. Who ever said that was a good movie was out of their mind.



DO NOT STICK NOSE INTO THESE AROMATIC WILD FLOWERS EVER!

Am I The Only One Who Has Watched Star Trek?

With the American Revolution in my brain, I drew the American flag. I didn't like how the drawing came out--not at all close to Childe Hassam's 4th of July painting, my holiday favorite. I tore it up and reassembled the pieces with an eye towards putting together a balanced color composition. The colors balanced, I still didn't like the assemblage but photographed it anyway, jumped to Photoshop and worked it over with the I-forget-what tool. And that did the trick. The flag's a bit ragged and torn, but then it has been through a lot.

Playing around with the image of my country's flag is okay with everybody. Our constitution guarantees my right to play with Old Glory. I don't approve of the fact that some Americans have sewed the image to the seat of their pants or have burned the flag in protest over some political issue, but I heartily support their right to make their statement. We owe our rights to fuss around with images of the flag and to mistreat it to the folks of the original thirteen colonies who dumped the tea into Boston Harbor,(1773), ignited the American Revolution by firing the shot heard around the world in Lexington, Virginia, (1775), and who declared this country's independence from British rule on the fourth of July, 1776 with these words we hold most dear:

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.

Today, we fly our flags high and salute those thirteen colonies of rebels--Delaware, Pennsylvania,New Jersey, Georgia, Connecticut, Massachusetts Bay, Maryland, South Carolina, New Hampshire, Virginia, New York, North Carolina, and Rhode Island. We also tip our hats with gratitude to the French, the Spanish and the Dutch who gave us a hand with our struggle and eventually went to battle with our enemy themselves wearing their armies thin enough to allow us to defeat them and sign the Treaty of Paris 1783 on September third.

Since then, the Earth has become a tiny place where any shots fired anywhere are heard around the planet in nano seconds and published in full color on You Tube. It's a small world after all and we know it, but then we don't. Am I the only one who watched Star Trek? Am I the only one who got that a Federation of Planets couldn't happen before there was a Federation of Nations--which should have been kicked off in 1996 by a movie called Independence Day? HAPPY TWO HUNDRED AND THIRTY FIFTH BIRTHDAY US of A. We've come a long way. We've got a long way to go earthlings.



NOTE: To read the entire text of Our Declaration of Independence and discover specifically why we declared it on this day in 1776 go to: Early America.

Inch by Inch

WORK IN PROGRESS: FALL WOODS, FOUR SEASONS QUAD-TYCK



After drawing in the whole composition along with preliminary colorwork, I'm working up close and personal with a tiny brush on Fall Woods, the third unit in my four part painting. Tiny brushes are not me--nor is working on a small section at a time without considering the whole. But intense details overlapping is what is required to get this unit to sit right with the other Spring and Summer. So be it. Square inch by square inch I plod along. The nice part is the work is mesmerizing--tranquilizing. I find I'm not thinking at all. I'm in the trees letting my intuition guide me as I paint branch over branch,color over color. It's a very enjoyable state of being.

There are four hundred square inches in Fall Woods. These detail photos show just a few. My concentration was on the upper right side of the painting.

Summer Greens

BLUES TO GREENS TO YELLOW AND WHITE ARE THE COLORS OF SUMMER GREENERY WITH RED THROWN IN

I added some of these colors carefully, strategically yesterday. I'm going to have to go back into the darks for definition and depth--but that's the way of painting--back and forth with line and color till the dabs and dots and lines say what you want them to say.




Foliage softens space. Color beautifes. But trees stripped bare and color kept minimal is what the woods look like in Winter--and come closer to how I feel about them now. There's a bleakness that's attractive. You can see it in The Buck Stopped Here photo. The study below is a study in design--a just a quick look at space.



Tree trunks layered one over another. Branches overlapping. The dissection of space by lines, thick and thin. The play of positive and negative forms. Low keyed colors defining depth. What's near? What far? No details to distract. All these elements fascinate me and keep me staring into the forest behind my house. Next to summer, winter is bleak. Which means the fall painting has to be somewhere in the middle--not too lush, not too barren. More fall studies are in order. No. No more studies. Studies can kill spontaneity. Better to just hit the canvas and all the fall sketches will merge.

A Little Art, A Little Woe

Greens away from finishing Summer Woods, I've been hunting for the best fall companion for my Four Seasons series. I've found four fall sketches to choose from plus the top photograph. The blue in the photo is how the scene photographed--and I like the gray tree structures with light highlights--a change from the dark structures in the other two paintings. I have to beef up the golds, tans and reds and gray down the blue. I definitely have to get rid of the green bush in the lower right corner. I thought I would rough in the canvas this week. Of the sketches I like the strength of the one on the left, top line. Line is what intrigues me the most--as you can see in the "The Buck Stopped Here" photo in the right column. It's the designer in me.




I had some bad news yesterday: our favorite restaurant in Cancun is really history. My son had told me so on Sunday, but I couldn't believe it. It was such a money-maker. It was the place to eat. It was in the New York Times. I checked it out on line. And sure enough La Dolci Vita is "temporarily closed." I'm devastated. There's nothing temporary about it. Some new owner is opening up a new spot called Spavio's--with a new venue. I liked the old. That's where I wanted to go for my birthday for the Francesca salad, the lobster ravioli and Mexican wine. In 2008, Honey eating on the balcony was one of the few pictures I took. Why is it that our favorite things fade away?

Off the top of my head I have lost: Fabergé Tigress Cologne; Paco Rabanne Calandra Cologne; Estee Lauder Blue Flame nail polish; the Cadillac Seville; Dutch Twin cookies--and Hydrox cookies; The Bijou, another dining experience; Kroger's Easy Peel Shrimp, 21 to 25 in a bag for nine bucks; straight leg jeans that come to the waist; and if I sit here long enough, the list would grow. Nothing mentioned is that dire to life, but they were pleasures that I enjoyed and made life fun. What have you lost?