Tag Archive | Catherine Rodgers

Just dropped in

I could blame my online absence on lots of things, but, in honesty, it’s just me. Haven’t felt like blogging. Other things to do, places to be. So I thought I’d just drop in to see what condition my condition is in blogging-wise.

One thing that’s on my mind today is that John and I are rapidly approaching our 10th anniversary – wedding, that is. Once he proposed, after 17 months or so of dating, we decided to get married pretty quickly; we were already old, we thought, so why wait when time was just getting away?

Now 48 seems pretty young in retrospect. But we’re glad we didn’t wait. Once you know, you know. Speaking of young, our kids seemed like, well, kids when we got hitched, though they were all older than I was when I had my two of our three.

Now they’re all way grown, in their mid-3os, and we have five grandkids. That’s a great condition to be in. Lolly and Pop are our most fun roles, though we still really dig husband and wife.

Soon we’ll depart for a trip across the ocean to celebrate – old people time, you know. Ten years is the equivalent of, what, 30(?) at this age – though if we’re lucky enough to make to 30 years, even 20, we’ll probably look back and laugh at calling ourselves old on our 10th anniversary.

Anyway, that reminds me that I need to finish the Paris episode of my trip with students to London and Paris. Paris was definitely the wildest ride, as I’ll explain this weekend, I hope.

In the meantime, I’ve also been doing things like dyeing silk scarves in a silk shibori scarf class taught by my friend Catherine Rodgers and held in UALR’s Applied Arts Studio, though it was an Arkansas Arts Center class. Great fun.

Three of the five scarves I made. One was for Cathy and I gave Liz another.

Three of my five scarves. One was for Cathy and I gave Liz another.

I also just accidentally bought a huge Tabriz Persian “tree of life” rug on eBay, which came last weekend. (Yes, that does happen. To me, anyway, more than once.) It’s fab and really ties the room together. But no photos yet – updates of remodeling to come.

Oh, and we’ve seen some good, thought-provoking movies (and a pretty bad one) and I’m reading another excellent book.

Lots to talk about.

Looks like the blog abides.

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If (a picture paints a thousand words)

If a picture paints a thousand words, then my iPhoto should be the longest story ever written. When you have grandkids (and dogs) as photogenic as mine, photos beg to be taken.

Even before digital days, when my children were little and we were poor as church mice, I took many, many photos of their cuteness. I got my first camera at 7 and it’s something I just can’t help.

But let me break away from the picture talk to confess  that I do not like that song by Bread; that song by Bread is one I dread. I’ve never liked that song at all; it fit the story, that is all.

Forgive the Seussian rhyme, but I’m transitioning briefly into an embarrassing but funny story about a Bread concert my senior year of high school.

My friends knew I abhorred the band Bread. Yuck. They were so – white bread. Sissified. Pop rock.

I loved The Allman Brothers. Eric Clapton. Santana. Led Zeppelin. CSNY. Howling Wolf. OK, and James Taylor and Carole King – but Bread. Stinkaroony.

The only reason I went to the concert was because my boyfriend did a brief stint in a fraternity, members of which worked concerts at Barton Coliseum – in exchange for free admission. Including sucky concerts like Bread.

We had to get there early, and the girlfriends were promptly parked on blankets on the cement floor in front of the stage. The guys joined us after the show started.

I don’t remember who opened, but I think I remember wearing a bright plaid button-up shirt and Levi’s. Evidently, it was bright enough to stand out, and evidently David Thomas picked a girl at every show to hit with the spotlight and sing “If” to.

Yep, yours truly. The song started, the spotlight expanded, and there we were, David Gates and I, encircled in light as he crooned in that annoying falsetto to me.

Holy shit. Everybody can see me. Maybe no one will notice. Acck – it would be rude to look away, so, fine sing to me.

Then he gave me their set list. People cheered.

The next day at school many, many people yelled in the hall, “Hey, I saw you last night!” Try explaining that you really don’t even like the band when you were seen sitting in the front row.

I tore the set list up, something in retrospect that was probably dumb. Oh, well. I still don’t like Bread.

But I really started all this to talk about how I spent the weekend, which was doing something I haven’t done since high school – painting. Not walls; my friend Catherine Rodgers taught the two-day “Paint Like Rothko – Color, Complement, Shade, Tone and Tint Workshop” at the Arkansas Arts Center and I did it!

Super fun. I always intended to paint in my 50s. Cut it a bit close on the “in my 50s,” but more than 40 years since I last really painted anything other than walls, furniture, frames or ceramics – that I can remember anyway – I did a 30-inch by 40-inch oil on acrylic (vaguely) Rotho-esque piece.

photo 1

First we mixed colors and made color charts, which was invaluable and satisfying. Now if I can just make myself finish the gray scale …

photo 2