Rumblings of Mutiny, Awash In Summer Reading, General Nonsense

Me and Michael in San Antonio 2015

Me and Michael in Houston 2016  I was trying to fit under the hat!

I did not say much in my post about Space City Comic Con about the disorganized, and downright dishonest things that the management did there.  Our own experience was mildly affected by it, but many, many fans were out thousands of dollars for promised perks that they never got, AND some of the celebrity guests were shorted on money, too.  That, and we never did get a coherent schedule from the con itself.  Wolf Photography had their schedule, and it was pretty accurate, except when the ineptitude of con management screwed it up.  Nobody ever picked up Doug Jones from his hotel on Friday, so he was late arriving, and missed his Friday photo ops.  (My ticket was honored for Saturday.)  A guest artist we spoke to was left stranded at the airport, and had to take Uber to their hotel.  (They rode in to the con on the hotel shuttle with us on Friday.) There was much grumbling and bad feeling among some of the fans.  For the most part, the celebs stayed and took care of their fans.  (Ron Perlman especially was gracious about making sure his fans got what they came for.  SUCH a sweet man, and appreciative of his fans.)  Doug Jones was gracious and kind and very loving to his fans in spite of being left waiting on Friday.
Michael Ornstein also stayed through Sunday, in spite of being part of the group that wasn't paid correctly by the con management.  He had a table in the autograph/artist's area and was selling and signing original art.  He's a pretty cool dude.  I really like him.  Love his painting that Matt bought me.  It's hanging in the front hall now, so we see it every day!

Today was the beginning of Summer Reading at our library.  I worked from 11 to 3.  The kickoff event ran from 10 to 12, and believe me, we were busy long after it ended!  Lots of fun, exciting stuff for the kiddos, and lots and lots of new library cards made!

But oh, the weather from Houston followed us home.  It's been RAINY and HUMID and HOT here this week.  Nasty.  Got rained on getting to my car after work both yesterday and today.  The yard needs mowing, but the rain won't stop long enough to let it dry enough so I can mow it!  Our lovely yard is a JUNGLE!!


We have been busy framing and hanging the art and photos we bought this weekend.  I am seriously running out of wall space in this house.  I have culled out what I have on display, but still, my walls are FULL!

Sitting here writing, checking social media, and sipping on a "Hammered Nail" cocktail.  Made with Rye Whiskey, Drambuie, Creme de Cacao, and Coffee Liqueur.   Very good stuff.  Very slow sipping recommended.  Let it settle in bit by bit.  Great for winding down after a busy, busy day.

Tomorrow is my turn to do Zumba with the library program bunch.  Here's hoping I survive!!


Life has so many textures
Tastes
Sounds
Scents
Colors
Lights
And Darknesses.
It sometimes is more
Than I can take in.
So many things I want to do
Want to see
So little time
In the short span we are given
Which also is full
Of things we NEED to do
MUST do
Are paid to do.
Lucky for me
Many of those are
Very fulfilling things
And give me satisfaction
Even though there are other things
I'd rather have the time for.

To spend time with people I care for
To read stories that let me dream
To write the things I dream up
To stare at the light and shadows in the garden
To sit with you
And remember why
We fell in love
And find again
That you are the one
I am happy to be with.

A Poem For Michael

This is one I wrote for Michael Ornstein, an artist and actor who interacts with me on Twitter from time to time.  His work and his comments on it have caused me to ponder art of all sorts and its relationship to life.  Art is necessary to our existence, no matter what some may say or think.
This poem to me especially speaks of how Michael's art speaks to me. 
Thanks, Michael, for all the points to ponder, and for making me look at my own art, that of painting with words. 


Ruminations On Art
By C.K. Armistead
March 2014


Art is like life
You can't erase
You can only add
A layer to cover
To keep hidden the sad,
To smooth the rough over.
But still
It shows through
Just like in life
Truth finds
Its way out
Past the façade
We choose
To try
To hide it.




And here are my thoughts on my own art, not always practiced as much as it should be.


Ruminations on Poetry
By C.K. Armistead
March 2014


Words written or spoken
Cannot be taken back
Once said, once read,
They go on
Leaving hearts healed
Or broken
In their wake.
Like any art,
You can only add
Never take away
You can try to cover
The ugliness you say
Or perceive
But truth will out
Under the ugly
The beauty
Behind the hurt
The healing
If we're lucky.




I hope you enjoy these ruminations of mine.  I felt today to be a good day to write, even though I am at work this morning.  This IS a library, after all, a place of words and ideas, where they are sheltered, stored, shared.  If I cannot write here, where CAN I write? 
It is raining out this morning, and cool, and dreary enough to cause reflection and ruminations.  There is also an odd energy about the library today, cheerfulness and activity, people here and happy to see one another, children playing and reading and growing.  A good morning.  I hope it is where you are, too.

Further Reflections On My Trip and Return

One thing that amazed me is how many people ignore the view out the airplane window.  Do they fly so often that it now fails to amaze them?  I can understand if it is night time, or there are lots of clouds (though I enjoyed the cloud formations we flew above on Saturday morning), but on a clear, sunny day?  I'm glued to the window, watching the miniature world scroll by.  Farms, towns, factories, suburbs, vast stretches of apparently empty space.  It's all interesting to me.  I don't get to fly all that often, and the perspective gained by viewing our civilization from a distance can be heady stuff.  Our world really is pretty small, no matter how big it feels from down here.  What we do to the land matters, it shows up even from a distance. 

Though I like flying, and I like seeing new things, I don't like being away from my base of operations that much.  It unsettles me.  I guess I haven't found a good way to take it with me yet.  Ever since I got back, this song has been playing in my head, and refuses to be exorcised, no matter what.
Traveling Wilburys: Inside Out

The weeds in Alabama could probably rival the plants in Australia for vindictiveness and danger. Most of the vines I had to remove from in and on my mother's azalea hedges had HUGE thorns.  They are carnivorous, actively seeking the slight bit of bare skin between my long pruning gloves and my shirt sleeve.  I have multitudinous scratches and puncture wounds on my elbows.  I also ran afoul of the top of the chain link fence.  I was grateful over and over again for the tetanus shot I got shortly after the tornadoes.  At least I knew I was protected from disease.  Much antibiotic cream and cortisone cream have helped the scratches start to heal.  I also have bruises all over me.  Branches that argued with me, things that poked me through the sheet we used to transport our clippings to the curb, the abominable fence, my own pruners, these are the things that bruised me.  Stumps of old shrubs bruised my knees when I tried to kneel on them to reach the roots of some weeds. Also, I don't know if it is the bending and lifting I did while at Mom's or the vigorous workouts I've done since I got home, but my leg muscles are sore.  Something has worked them hard!

As hard as my sister and I worked every day, I still missed being really active.  I missed my walks and my elliptical time.  I listen to music and just move it when I am walking or using the elliptical.  Gets my blood pumping, and gets my heart rate up.  All that yard work was not aerobic.  Didn't benefit my heart or lungs much.  (In fact, being up close and personal with so much pollen was not so good for my allergies.  I am still living on antihistamines and eye drops.)
I also missed my regular clothes.  I had only yard work clothes at Mom's, except for the outfit I wore on the plane to and from.  None of my yard work clothes is the right size any more.  Most are about two sizes too big.  I felt really odd wearing those clothes every day.  (Although it was a bit of an ego boost, knowing how tight those clothes USED to be!)

REALLY missed my singing.  I just get lost in my songs and in the challenge of making my voice do what it needs to do to function properly.  Just couldn't do that at Mom's.  (Sister's snide comments didn't help, either.)  Voice lesson today was a challenge because I went so long without practice, and haven't really had time to practice much since I got home.  Once I found my groove, though, things went pretty well.

Since I got home, we have been OD-ing on the Pacific Rim Blu-Ray.  Lots of really neat extras on that set of discs, and we've been working our way through all of them.  I really love that movie.  It's just NEAT!!  (Added bonus, Ron Perlman is in it, and his daughter Blake  composed and performed a song for the closing credits .)

Matt framed our art posters that we bought at Dallas ComiCon Fan Days.  They look good in our hall.  Finally have art that really reflects our lifelong interests.

A Hellboy as an adolescent painting, and Gipsy Danger fighting a Kaiju by Devin Kraft of Cheshire Cat Art.  We met him at the con, and gave Ron Perlman a smaller print of the Hellboy painting as a token of our esteem.  (We thought it was cute.)






Here is a picture of a frog on the back wall of Mom's house.  May be a little blurry, it's zoomed in.

Here's the front of Mom's house after we got done taming the azaleas.


















When I got home, my Boot Campaign boots were waiting for me.  These boots are sold as a fundraiser for a program that gives aid to servicemen and women returning from overseas.  I bought them to support the cause, and to reward myself for a 30 pound weight loss since I started this effort in January.

Speaking of my weight loss, here are some before and after photos to give a little perspective on how much difference 30 pounds makes.

This is me at 168 pounds.

And this is me at 138 pounds.  BIG difference, eh?  Biggest difference is in how I feel and in the numbers on my health records.  BP lower, Cholesterol lower, everything looking good!









Guess that's about all for this outing.  I have wandered around in the wilderness long enough.  Hope you enjoyed the trip.

Making Pictures With Words

I follow someone on Twitter who is an artist.  Sometimes, he shares images of his art.  He uses color, and shape, and texture to communicate emotions.  He is pretty good at it. 
I am a bit of an artist myself when I set my mind to it.  I paint pictures with words.  Sometimes I share the word pictures here or on Facebook.  I don't know how good I am at it, really.  I get some positive feedback, but I am one that tends to doubt myself, and so I attribute that to people "being nice."  Musical expression can also be a way of "painting."  One uses dynamics and in opera, anyway, the addition of little ornaments to make a piece more dramatic, or more comical.  Usually, the composer sets these out for you, but over the years, many great singers have made certain arias their own, and their ornamentation tends to become "standard".
  Back to painting with words.  I have done many poetry exercises that ask you to use words to literally describe a scene.  In this first one, you are given a word and then asked to list things that the word brings to mind that describe the sensation, feeling, or object.

Speed:  swallows racing, air rushing past my ears, Michael Schumacher driving.

Orange:  Tangerines in a green glass bowl, Autumn leaves, Oklahoma clay baked in Summer sun, a traffic cone.

Fear:  Ice water poured on your head, The air being sucked away from you, falling and falling with nothing to catch hold of.

Greed:  The kid who won;t share his toys and takes yours, too.  SUV drivers who use 2 lanes at once, the dog who tried to keep more tennis balls than his mouth will hold.

Yellow:  Morning sun, an oriole, mustard.

These associations mean something to me because of experiences I have had.  Others will have different images, but they should mean enough to all of us to transmit the feeling desired.  I particularly like my ice water poured on your head image for fear, because that is exactly how it feels to me when something REALLY scares me.  Cold dread starts at the crown of my head and flows over my whole body.  Like ice water.  My whole being experiences the fear.

Here are a few other images gleaned from exercises:

The moon, broken off like a discarded dinner plate.
A red flower, brilliant as the sequins on a diva's gown.
Her fingers, delicate as hummingbird wings.
The island stretches out from the coast like a yogi embracing dawn.
Your backbone, ridged like an old washboard.
Soft as a baby's kisses.
The bicyclist, careening down the hill like an avalanche.
Crazy bird!  It's song like the grate of a rusted roof turbine.
His monotonous voice, like the drone of a thousand computer (cpu) cooling fans.
She spun off like a new series from an old sitcom.
Days pass like the freight trains speeding through town.

Teeth of a comb, feet of a chair, head of cabbage, hand of bananas, hair up in a "bun", Rabbit Ears on old TVs, Heel of bread, eyes on a potato, hands on a clock.

Some of those are fun, some I could probably come up with better images if I sat and thought about it long enough.

Here is a little composition I wrote almost ten years ago about a typical morning for me.

Alarm blare
of radio news
A chattering background
As I shuffle to the bathroom
Where light stabs my eyes
And I struggle awake
With water, soap and toothpaste.
With whiny impatience
The dog awaits release from
His kennel so he
May complete his morning
Requirements
Of excretion and exercise.
The cat stares her displeasure
Upon us all
For her dish is bereft of food.
I set about, once dressed,
As a great fixer of
Domestic calamities
Such as these
Restoring order to bedclothes
and tabletops
Feeding the starving
And waking the house for a new day.

These days, there is no dog, and the radio is usually blasting classical music from KCSC.  The morning routine now also includes turning on the cell phone so I won't have to wait for it to boot up when I am ready to go walk.  It's pretty fast, but still , once I'm ready to go, I'm ready to GO, not fool with my phone.
At any rate, I am now weary and achy and feeling almost all of my 53 years.  Time to go try and sleep. 
Try some word pictures of your own.  It's fun.