I love to laugh and think there is too little laughter in the world. I really love to share humor however I can, even if it isn’t always politically correct or at my own expense.

But sometimes, it isn’t about the funny.

Sometimes though it’s about something even more important.

Gratitude. Gratitude for what you have; and I’m not talking about your bank balance.

Yes, I know Thanksgiving is over. But I hadn’t seen this before Thanksgiving. A friend in Arizona sent this to me just yesterday and I feel I just compelled to share it.

So there you go. I hope I haven’t brought you down. That was not my intent- at all.

For me, watching that made me really re-focus on what is truly important, especially right now when everywhere you look so much emphasis is on material things.

I just saw a commercial where there a husband was looking for a really big Christmas tree. He needed one to put the new Lexus for his wife underneath it. There will be no Lexus here.

But that’s OK. I’ve got a mostly great husband, two adult kiddos who are happy and healthy, a crazy pack of five dogs and all of my teeth.

Who could ask for more?

Thanks for bearing with me. The funny will be back tomorrow.

Obviously they just couldn't decide what color to paint that room.

Although I grew up in Houston, a big city, I may perhaps be a small town yokelette at heart. I say that because I still don’t understand modern art. When I was growing up and we went to MFAH on a field trip I saw a big white canvas that had one red stripe of paint on it that had been applied with a roller. I was only 12, but I asked my teacher “Why is that here?”

“Because it’s art, Michele.” I was told.

“Not to me.” I said. I guess my lack of appreciation for the finer things in life was already set.

Now, almost 50 years later, I pretty much still feel the same way. I can appreciate a small amount of modern art occasionally. But for the most part, I like art that actually looks like something- something real.

When I went to art school in the mid 70′s, I was trained to paint or draw so that our finished product could be used in print media, either in an ad or perhaps in a magazine or annual report. Coke foods, a division of Coca-Cola, was one of my clients.

I did a damn fine coffeemaker if I do say so myself; and fur, I could paint fur that looked so real you’d think you could reach out and touch it. Of course all this was done (BC) before computers, when art was done before the aid of a computers and most of us still walked around with our knuckles dragging the ground.

We used pen and ink, Luma color dyes, gouache and acrylics. Airbrushing an illustration was done with an actual airbrush- imagine that! I was good.

The CEO of a prominent Houston company had seen some of my work and called to commission me to do a portrait of his wife from a photo that he’d supply. (It was to be a surprise Christmas present for her.)  This was December 1980. He wanted a small painting, 12″x14″, so we agreed on $500. I was tickled.

He had the photo messengered to me and when I saw it was I ever surprised. He was in his 60′s. She, not so much- mid 20′s was my guess; maybe mid 30′s (but I really didn’t think so). I thought she was his daughter- but I actually didn’t give a rat’s patootie either way; I wasn’t sleeping with him after all.

In addition to that though, she looked like she was ready to go perform on stage; her makeup was, to be politically correct, quite “intense”, although it was obvious the photo had been taken outside somewhere.

I worked on the painting for three days after which time I declared it finished. From 6′ away you couldn’t tell the difference between the painting and the photo. I was thrilled with it. Him, not so much.

“You made her look like a hooker!” he bellowed.

“And?” I said. “It looks exactly like the photo. See for yourself.” He couldn’t disagree.

The man paid the balance he owed, all the while grumbling about how I “didn’t do her justice”.

That was my last commission portrait because I discovered that people don’t want to be painted how they really look; they want to be painted how they see themselves- or how they see their loved one;  which can be very different from what the rest of us see indeed.

The photo I included today is from a painting that the MFAH has on display right now. I guess some things never change.

I’m heading down to the seement pond to take my critters for a swim now. G’nite.

Every year the routine never varied.  On Good Friday night we’d gather around the kitchen table to dye eggs. Mom would always gather the same 6 cups, an eclectic mix of mis-matchedness and put one Paas tablet into each one. Then came the vinegar followed by the boiling water. Back then I always thought that those tablets made the best colors; that they were way better than colors you could make with the liquid food coloring. What can I say? I was young.  I always asked why they only put 1 wire egg dipper in each box. (I wasn’t big on waiting my turn back then).

Mom always made an Easter egg that looked like my dad by gluing cotton to the egg to make it look like a balding head. She always took the clear crayon and wrote our name on an egg, then dyed it our favorite color. (Mine was always turquoise). Our Easter baskets were wicker, not plastic. These days there are Easter buckets in the stores. (Somehow that seems wrong). Our dachshund Max, loved hard boiled eggs. It was always a race on Easter morning to find the eggs hidden in the yard before he did.

Our kids were lucky to live  in the same city as my mom. As soon as they were able to participate, my mom was back  at her kitchen table, spreading out the newspapers again, and gathering those same 6 cups.  Over the years mom bought various Paas kits in attempt to change the look of the eggs. Our kids had sparkle eggs, tie-dye eggs, eggs with decals and even Shrinky Dink Easter eggs. Their favorites ones though were just the plain eggs that were left in the dye a long time, making the eggs a jewel tone.

When our kids were young I thought it was important to make the most beautiful eggs in the world. I watched Martha Stewart, trying to learn the way to make the most beautiful Easter eggs, then fussed at myself if mine didn’t turn out beautifully. I used rubber bands, dental floss, sponges, paintbrushes and even paper reinforcements to try to change the look of our eggs.

Although it took me a couple of years,  eventually I came to realize that it was the process, not the outcome, that was so important to the kids. I’m looking forward to being in our new place for next Easter; and now that my mom is gone, it seems that the annual gathering of the cups has fallen to me. I figure I better get in a lot of practice before there are little ones gathering around my table on Good Friday night. I wouldn’t want to drop the ball egg. Happy Easter everybody.

The doctor said Betty is still confused. (She said yesterday that they gave her Chinese food on toast for breakfast). Doug is so stressed. He said he could deal with the physical problems she might have. (The mental problems are another things all together). We went through a very intense period of those with my mom. She had bizarre hallucinations for awhile. No matter how we tried to comfort her or explain them away, it did no good. It was exhausting to be around her at her house. It seemed as if she never slept. I’m guessing best case, Doug will be gone for a month. Somehow, a month seems longer to me in the middle of winter than in the summertime.

So I’ll be spending New Year’s eve all alone at home. Well, that’s not totally true- I’ll have about 200 lbs.of dogs with me. I’m so glad I have them. When I get really down, there’s always a furry head that needs petting. Doug and I aren’t big New Year’s Eve party folk anyway, so it’s not like I’m going to be missing some big wing-ding. I’ve just always been lucky enough to have him with me when the new year has started.

I’ve got a couple of craft projects I’m going to be finishing up today and tomorrow. Hopefully they’ll turn out well; they’re for Christmas gifts. If they turn out OK, I’ll take some photos and post them. I hope this day finds everyone else bubbling over with the holiday spirit. Ho-ho-ho.

What every mom secretly wants

In Unforgettable gifts #1, I included gifts that could be given to friends and family alike. I know that for some of you, finding the “perfect” gift is truly important. So when I came across these, I just couldn’t keep them to myself. This time the gifts are just for those of us with XX chromosomes. You know how every Christmas retailers come out with those cute mother-daughter outfits, the matching skirts or sleepshirts? Well, these mother-daughter gifts would be appreciated by perhaps the more “progressive” or “free-thinking” mom. Or perhaps a mom who just wants to train her sweet daughter to go into her chosen profession.

So here you go for mom- the Peekaboo Pole Dancing Kit. This is the only portable pole dancing kit that installs in 60 seconds or less! “Put on some music, shake your booty and earn a fortune in Peekaboo Cash”. “Comes with Peekaboo garter and $100 in Peekaboo cash”. According to the website, “there’s a Peekaboo Lap Dancer in all of us and the Peekaboo kit aims to help you find it from setting the scene with peek-a-preparation, choosing a sexy peek-a-name to planning your latest routine. The kit comes with everything you need to lap-it-up”. Lucky for me I read this disclaimer- “Note: The Peekaboo Pole is not a professional dance pole, so not swing on the pole using your entire body weight”. (Of course for your featherweights who are size 2, it’d probably be fine).

I’m sure most little girls wanted to be like their mommy at one time or another while they were growing up. So here’s something for them so they won’t feel left out: The Pole Dancer doll. “When the music plays, she goes round and round and up and down”.  I am NOT a prude, in any way, shape or form. (Just ask our daughter ). Amanda’s often mortified by my lack of prudishness or lack of concern about social mores these days. However, even to me, this doll is too much. Doug just walked in, looked at the photo and read what the packaging said. All he said was, ‘That’s just wrong”. I think that pretty much sums it up. (Of course, he’s all in favor of the Peekaboo Pole for me). When I was growing up, if an item appeared to be cheaply made, my father would say  “It’s looks like it’s made of a Prince Albert Can”. Without seeing one in person of course, I’m guessing that the Peekaboo Pole might be a recycled Prince Albert Can. After reading the disclaimer to him, we decided that perhaps in the interest of my safety and to prevent our ceiling from crashing down we should consult the Army Corps of Engineers to have them make a sturdy pole for me and at the same time come and reinforce our attic and foundation. I know everyone will be relieved to know that there will never be a video of me on a pole on YouTube while I still draw a breath on this earth.

Imagine the look on Grandma’s face when she she’s her granddaughter open her Pole Dancer doll. That alone would be worth the cost of the doll. Happy shopping! Today’s trivia answer- Parcheesi.

For the little princess in the family who wants to be just like mommy.

Winter starts just a few days before Christmas. The holidays are great- but for me the best part is early on. Going to get the fresh tree and unpacking all the old ornaments, I love that. What I don’t like is all the gift stress. Did I spend enough? Will they like it? Christmas day is a lot of work for the mom who’s hosting dinner. I mean it’s great having everyone together, but before dinner everybody’s visiting and after dinner everybody’s too stuffed to help.

Then the holidays are over and you’ve got to take down the tree and put everything away. (I hate that part). Then the long push til spring. This is when Houston comes into it’s own though. I’ve worn shorts many, many times Dec.-Feb. while most of the rest of the country is in a deep freeze.

Fall however, is where it’s at. The average temperature now is in the low to mid 80′s, the humidity down. We don’t have the big explosion of colors with the whole leaves changing colors thing. (No one comes to Texas to see the fall foliage). You know it’s fall when you see a steady stream of cottontops pulling RV’s, heading to south Texas for the winter. Late September and October you can actually walk around a festival without looking like a contestant in a wet T-shirt contest with your shirt stuck to you from all the sweat.

Fall means Halloween, my favorite holiday. I think more adults should celebrate it, especially as they get older. I always went to work tricked out in various Halloween costumes until I got married, pregnant and quit work. (I realize that dressing up at work may have been a little easier for me since I was the art director at an ad agency). When your kids are little it’s all about them of course.

When the kids are grown and (hopefully) gone, why not reclaim the day for yourself? If you’re lucky enough to be retired or at least self-employed you have no reason not to. I’d love to have Fred Flintstone cleaning my teeth or Dracula changing the oil in my car. I intend to to start dressing up again- this year. (I’ll take photos to document my silliness). It makes people smile when they see an adult in a costume- people need a reason to smile more. Now I just have to decide what I’ll be. Today’s trivia answer- the Bay of Fundy.