I signed a 6-month lease for a studio at the Maker space. It’s a whole 48 square feet. I moved in my drawing table, a chair, and some smaller things. I have a cabinet which was left behind two tenants ago and what I think is a microwave stand. I stacked them to save floor space and form a half wall at the entrance.
There’s already a wall from a different studio on the side where I created the half wall and I’m going to bring in some wire cubes to form part of the opposite wall. The back wall is the block wall of the room the studios are in. I’m debating whether to bring in the bi-fold door that’s been in the basement since I moved in. It would make a good backdrop and I could use S-hooks to hang my shop light so I have light at night.
We had an inspection earlier this year and they had a few recommendations for electrical drops in areas instead of extension cords. We should have put them in when we were re-wiring the place prior to moving in. We’ll probably do it if we extend our lease for another two years and acquire Suite A to expand into.
If we do extend the lease, I’d like for electronics to move to a different area, so I can expand to put in a nice printmaking area. Every tour, someone asks about block printing. If I could enlarge my area, I would get a good press to accommodate a variety of sized prints.
In other news, I’ve managed to do a few more paintings. My schedule has been disrupted by pulling assorted muscles doing heavy work. I shouldn’t have to do it, but The Boy Wonder is notorious for his lack of assistance.
They’re not all good. Painting such tiny paintings is tough. But I hope that by the time I paint 100 of them, I will have improved. I’m scheduling my life now. I have so many unfinished projects and so many unused craft supplies that I could open a second-hand craft store in my garage.
I’m running out of time. I probably only have ten or twenty years left, or an hour after I leave the house. I don’t want to leave a giant pile of craft supplies that will be tossed away. I don’t want to die and leave the neighbors talking about the craft supply hoarder. Recognition of the problem is the first step even as I sit here trying to decide if I really want to spend money on some more paint markers.
There’s a void I’ve filled with stuff like that. I think it goes back to the nomadic life of a military dependent and oldest of way too many siblings. Everything I had had to be shared. I had nothing for myself. Dolls, games, art supplies, books, and even clothing. The only thing I have left from my childhood is my original birth certificate. I don’t even have my baby pictures any more. That’s the only thing that is not my parents’ fault.
My daughter took my pictures and albums to make a scrapbook of my life. She didn’t get to create it though. Her house caught fire from an electrical fault and everything was lost, including my baby book and photos. A few charred fragments were found outside afterwards, but everything else was gone.
You may ask “doesn’t your family have some of those photos?” Well, no. The Crazy Lady ( mother, dearest) burned everything in the fireplace during her mental collapse. Paintings I did in college which were in stored in the attic — broken, torn apart, and burned. Actual furniture from the living room — burned in the fireplace. Clothing, books, whatever — shredded and burned.
Her fragmented mind created fantasies — people were breaking into the house and taking things or leaving things, the children living at home had been replaced, but sometimes they came back. My father tried to get her help and take the kids, but no. This was the olden days where mothers got to keep the kids in the divorce. He almost got them, but her sister spirited them away to California where her other siblings and her mother had settled.
Why am I telling you this? Probably because I’m just as crazy, but in a different way. No one is out to get me. People aren’t talking about me or looking at me funny. Well, no more than they would any other white-haired older woman dressed in tee shirts and leggings, wearing a ball cap. Comfort first, looks second. At least I comb my hair.
I think I’ll go get those markers.
Newest of the series. So far, I have 17 out of 100.
I got a bill from the state revenue department almost $600. I forgot to file my annual sales tax form. I actually didn’t sell anything last year. It’s not the first time. It’s not even the first time I’ve forgotten. And I used to work for them processing returns.
That was the last job I worked. I was already retired from my regular gig as a slacker for a university library. Actually, no. I wasn’t a slacker until my last 60 days. I just did my job until I noticed that my completed re-classification work was being trashed – quite literally. The shelves of materials I had redone were being emptied.
My second part of my job was digitizing 19th century medical theses. The scanning project was not cancelled but was never going to be completed as the person responsible for creating the meta data for the image uploads decided not to do it and our boss decided that was fine. (They were long-time friends)
The third part of my job was searching for articles published by our faculty and creating reports for a campus library committee. In theory, I was only searching for medical results, but ultimately wound up doing various allied health publications as well. I attended the first two committee meetings before my boss decided it would look better for a professional librarian to present my results.
That led to my early retirement. My little 1000 day retirement calendar changed to 90 days after being yelled at by the woman who had been my supervisor that she was no longer my supervisor and I should have known that! No one told me that my supervisor has changed and for months I had been leaving my timesheets in her mailbox.
After being yelled at for not knowing who my supervisor was, and since I was doing what I considered basically make-work because I couldn’t be fired without cause, I figured I could do similar activities at home with having to get out of my pajamas. So what does that have to do with sales tax? Absolutely nothing.
Yet here I am mumbling and bumbling. I make books. I do book binding and give classes in book binding. I’ve done a few sales but randomly and I’ve always sent off my sale tax forms and a check. But last year, was a bad year mentally. I didn’t do any sales. I did do classes but nothing was sold. I hope to take part in a couple of small local sales this year, but not more than two.
Here, have a cat. That’s Gingersnap. She was once feral. She loves regular meals and soft warm places to sleep. She’s not much for cuddling, but occasionally likes a scratch between her ears.
I’ve been offered a small press for block printing for my area of the maker-space. I’ve been asked on tours if we have such a press. A member offered me a small one. I have a few people interested and I have money to purchase it.
I had been thinking about re-purposing my heat press into a printing press for my own use. I would merely use the pressure plate without applying heat. If the small press gets even moderate use, I will invest in a larger one for the area. When I give tours, I am occasionally asked if we have a printing press. It would be nice to say yes.
I finished a few more paintings. One of my maker-space friends and I sat painting and talking while I was waiting for members to show up for needed help. My office hours aren’t too busy, but I find that having the regular hours helps those who are interested in the craft area.
I included the (butt) pear painting under the improved painting.
I didn’t leave until almost 2 in the morning. I didn’t have to get up early since I don’t dog sit anymore. My taxes are finally done and sent. Whoopee! I did forget to file my sakes tax return so I got a bill for $600+. I’ll get it sorted. I didn’t do any sales last year which is why I forgot. I usually complete the form when I’m setting up my tax folder for tax season,
Here’s an interesting article I found online which contains clues about why our delightful congresspersons, the Muskrat, and Fearless Felon can’t conceive of the needs of normal people. It’s not primarily because of the wealth they’ve accrued, but because the power they gain from that wealth affects their brain and lessens their empathy.
I don’t have to see any more Brad Schimel ads. He lost. In spite of all the money Muskrat put in his pot. I’m glad. We really don’t need someone who hates women on the state Supreme Court. Of course, his apologists will say otherwise, but his record speaks for him — hundreds of untested rape kits, belief in an archaic abortion law, rapists let off. Bah!
Someone I used to work with ran for an Alder position on the West Side. She didn’t win, but yay for trying. She’s a very strong minded person, a good librarian, and someone I was friendly with at work. I think she’s younger than me but not by much. I’ve gone from one of the youngest on my block to the oldest. But I still have young attitudes.
There are three houses across the street that still have the residents who were here when I moved in. There are four on my side that haven’t sold yet. These are just on my block. Up the street, in the next block, about half the homes have changed hands since I moved here years ago. Most of the houses were built here to house families working in local manufactories that have since gone out of business.
My house was the original farm house back in the 1920’s when the neighborhood was farm land. Most of the houses that are around me were built in the post-WWII boom. According to a former neighbor who was the oldest on my block when I moved in, six boys were raised in this dollhouse. It’s actually smaller than I would have liked, being the craft supply hoarder that I am, but perfect for one old lady and her cat.
I mean, what’s an old lady without a cat? There used to be four here, plus a dog. I kind of still have them all — in a small plot in the back yard. Every now and again, I do check to make certain they haven’t crawled out to terrorize the neighborhood. You can blame Stephen King and my imagination for that.
Now for some more of my awful watercolors. I actually going to make one or more mini books from them when I finish the series.
Latest paintings.
Have fun. Remember, you’re going to look back on Covid-19 as one of the high points of your lifetime because this year is going suck worse.
Hopefully, by the time I finish number 100, my painting skills will have improved. Working small is a lot harder than I thought. That pear looks like a butt and the strawberries look slightly moldy. As I get better, I’ll probably redo these early ones.
I’m using a limited palette – 12 colors . I still have trouble mixing colors in such tiny quantities. That should improve over time as well. If I didn’t have to be so concerned about money, I’d sign up for a watercolor class that’s being offered this spring for $125.
I’ve taken classes from this instructor before back in the olden days, pre-Covid, but with the uncertainty about what’s happening with Social Security payments, I can’t take the chance that the checks won’t be delayed or otherwise messed up.
And I don’t believe all the ads and videos that talk about Social Security stimulus checks and payment increases going around social media. Until the money is in my bank, it doesn’t exist. Not when government services are being trashed right and left by someone who shouldn’t be anywhere near our government agencies.
I saw a TikTok of some nut-job billionaire saying that if his mom doesn’t get her check, she won’t call SSA because only fraudsters would call about missing checks. Obviously, he has no clue. I can tell you if I had billionaire son, I would call him first and then spend as much time as I had to, on hold with the Social Security office.
The wealthy have no clue. The phones would be constantly ringing with pissed off old folks wanting to know where their damned money is. The rich are just selfish and greedy. The only reason some of them give generously to causes is because their accountants do some shifty accounting so they don’t pay an equal share of their income in taxes.
Okay rant over.
In other news, the sibs are planning a reunion this summer and have some crazy idea that they need to figure how to get me out there since I “don’t drive.” I’m not certain why they think I don’t drive, but I’m not going to tell them differently. I don’t need to be around people who were brainwashed by my mother to believe I’m incompetent, lazy, and difficult. It took a long time to shed all the toxicity from growing up. I don’t need to be reminded of it by them.
My last blood test results were in normal ranges. In another couple of months if all stays improved, they’ll start weaning off my meds. Yay, Rah!
I’m a little behind on my paintings. I have two in progress but I’m not satisfied. The size limitation is what gets me. I have a chance to start watercolor classes again, but I’m leery of spending money for a non-essential while the Social Security issue is in crisis.
The Melon Felon is going all out for Fascism. I’m surprised he hasn’t had a sparkly gold uniform made. Probably, there’s one in his closet with bogus medals hanging on the jacket and he’ll start parading around in it next month. Enough said.
It was Craft Night again. This time I took a new cat coloring book and some markers. I need to make a list of unfinished projects and work on them. But not too fast. I can’t die until I’m done with all of them. Given the number of items in progress, if I never start a new project but just work on existing ones, I’ll be close to 200 years old when I die.
Sorry. I’ve been stressed about my Social Security check. This month’s will be deposited. Next month, who knows. I used to accept that Republicans had a differing world view from mine. While I’m sort of a registered Democrat for election purposes, I’m more of a free-thinker.
What I want from my government is provide a stable framework of laws and regulations to ensure that every citizen has an equal chance to live a good life. But the current gang of grifters, sycophants, and haters has no moral compass, no loyalty to the principles of the Constitution, no conscience, no care, even for their constituents.
I doubt I will live long enough to see this country return to a nation based on Constitutional principles and laws. Right now, laws don’t matter. The orange buffoon sits at a desk and scribbles his signature on whatever is placed in front of him. I seriously doubt that he even knows what his proclamations really say, or even cares if he does.
Okay. Rant over. New topic.
These are all the tiny watercolor paintings I’ve done so far. It’s a year-long challenge. There are a couple based on Van Gogh, a couple of interesting objects from the neighborhood like the pizza oven and the hydrant, Devil’s Tower from a road trip, and some from other sources. 7 done and 93 more to do. I’ve spaced then out to very three days because I tried certain other timed projects that were daily and never completed them.
My first 7 watercolor paintings. They’re supposed to be this small as a way of not being overwhelming.
The first challenge I participated in was to knit 52 pairs of sock in a year. I did manage to complete 39 pairs in varying sizes from Barbie doll sized to ornament-sized, to baby and toddler-sized to the 15 pairs of socks I actually still wear. The last two 100-day challenges were never completed. I would find myself skipping days or not completing even a single project within the time frame. This current challenge is spaced out to 100 tiny paintings in a year. So far, so good. One painting every three days is working so far.
Here are paintings 3 and 4 along with the model for number 3.
Captain Hydro and his portrait along with some not-quite-Van Gogh trees.
I’ve been busy typing up my end-of life instructions for the young’uns. They keep bothering me like I’m going to keel over in the next few days. I don’t know why. I have a couple of graves I plan on dancing on, and both of the inhabitants are still alive. As time goes on, the list may grow longer. I can think of a dozen or so politicians I plan on outliving and so long as I can afford gas for my car, I might as well dance on their graves too.
I like to dance. It’s good for the heart, hips, and legs. I put on some rocking Cajun music and dance my blues away. I was really disappointed that I missed Beau Soleil when they were near here, but I rarely read the mailers that show up in my mailbox. That includes the newspaper for the suburb I share a zip-code with.
I should pay attention to the news from there because they frequently announce crafts sale sign-ups there. The sales are small, but the one time I did sign up for a fall one, I made quite a bit of money, considering it rained all day and the temperature never got above 40 degrees.
By quite a bit of money, I mean I had a few sales and made back my entry fee and the cost of all of the items I sold. Considering the Sunday Market I used to do out of town where I made practically no money, I felt very successful. The only reason I did the Sunday Market was that I was going to be in that town anyway, visiting a friend who was in a rehabilitation facility until she could walk again.
The two of us had been doing the market together for a year until she temporarily lost the use of her legs due to an injury to her back. Because she had steps into her home, she needed to be somewhere that was one level until she could handle the steps again. It took her two years of rehabilitation before she could return home. I continued the Sunday Market without her, but would stop in to see her. Before she could return home, she had a ramp built so she could use a walker to get in and out of her trailer home, and had her car modified for manual controls.
Since I really didn’t make enough at the Sunday Markets, I stopped attending them once my friend was able to get around on her own. Right after my final time up there, she drove down to visit me and we spent all that day going to craft stores so she could get more supplies for her crafting. She was so happy to be able to get around on her own. She had an aide who came to help her bathe and dress, but she could do most of the other things on her own.
Wednesday morning of the next week, the aide she found my friend dead in her bedroom. Apparently, she had gotten up out of bed and then had a fatal heart attack. There was a memorial service for her that I attended with several other friends who knew her.
I’ve lost several more friends since her death, all of them younger than me. The funny thing is I have outlived most of my parents’ generation of relatives and more than a few cousins on both sides. However, I am in no danger of running out of cousins. There are a couple of hundred of us on both sides particularly when you step down the generations – my siblings and cousins generation, their children, and their children’s children.
At some point in time, I will be the last of my familial generation, but today is not that day.
I’ve done my second painting of the 100 Painting project. This one is based on a photo from the road trip I took with two of my sisters in 2023. It’s a view of the Devil’s Tower. It’t not a great painting. I need tinier brushes. And a steadier hand.
Devils Tower, WY 2023
I’d like to make another trip out there to take more time to walk around. Since I wasn’t in charge of the trip, I didn’t get a chance to hike around it. I really wanted to see where the aliens landed – that’s a joke folks. The area around the other side of the rock isn’t large enough for the facility they showed in the movie.
It’s not that I don’t believe there’s life out there. There has to be. However, once we start exploring the galaxy in ships, I think we’ll only find remnants of life if we find habitable planets. Just as any species who travels here will probably find our dead cities and dry oceans.
A galactic federation sounds like something to strive for, but humans can’t seem to get over their petty differences and there’s no real reason to believe any other civilization would either. It would be nice to learn there are others, but I don’t think humanity, or at least the corner of where I live, would not be able to accept that other beings exist. Some – far too many – believe the earth is flat, that vaccines don’t work, that the ugly bits of history don’t need to be taught, that our government is the best, and the rest of the world doesn’t have anything like what we have.
In some respects, we’re right. Many parts of the world don’t have citizens who work for wages, who can’t afford food or housing. Most other countries’ citizens don’t go bankrupt when they need life-saving surgery or a ride in an ambulance. Other countries don’t have to worry about their children getting shot during their school day unless it’s a war zone.
It is my belief that out beyond the Oort cloud, there are beacons warning other civilizations not to stop to visit Earth because it’s too deadly an environment for civilized folks. And for all they know, the crazy might be contagious. Periodically, a science vessel may stop by to collect data and to update and upgrade the warning beacons invisibility shielding.
Sillytoes Crafts 