Happily married, mother of two ornery boys, one striped cat and a puppy. They inspire the stories I tell and art I make.
This morning as Blue and I walked through the park I savored the scent of the lilacs. Their fragrance reminded me of a long ago art fair conversation, with a painting woman who has the same first name as mine. She told me she was named for the song, “Jeannine, I Dream of Lilac Time.” I found it years ago to listen to, but had forgotten. Rediscovered it today on YouTube, and listened again with a smile this morn. Ah yes. It’s lilac time.
I’m letting Blue dog curl up next to me in the empty love seat spot
There is a doorknob jangle
Nearly 8:00am
First boy is out of bed
My oldest, The Early Bird (like me)
He saw Blue on the love seat and said, “Oh boy. Mom!”
Then he pet Blue and said, “Look at him. He likes this I betcha.”
Yep. He does. Spoiled rotten love him too much Blue dog.
Nearly 9:00am now
Youngest son joins us in the family room and says, “There’s another Blue on the couch.”
To the dog he says, “Blue, you’re in my spot.”
What follows made me laugh aloud…
Youngest boy climbs across arm of love seat, surprised dog gets down, then once my nine year old son is tucked tightly up against my side, Blue jumps up again in the space remaining
Quiet from earlier is replaced with a WWII show from History channel being played back via DVR
Saturday morning has truly begun
Blue is even sleeping on the floor
Breakfast for the boys is next
Good morning
May 18, 2013
I’m sorting Art Club’s artwork into portfolios to give them at our last hurrah lunchtime pizza party today. I’m as excited as they are that we get to be together one last time this school year. We’ve had fun AND they made some cool art. Win win!
May 14, 2013
the first iris bloom
all the more special
because it is a transplant
from Grandma’s garden
Grandpa chose the colors
sent them North
in five gallon buckets
with my father
who dug up
the boring white ones
and planted vivid hues
that my grandmother first chose
and I prefer too
oh, the first iris bloom
looking forward
to yellow, pale blue, two-tone
the other colorful iris
that will follow
soon
May 13, 2013
Blue and I had a quiet walk this morning. Less traffic noise and fewer joggers on Saturday than the weekdays. The purple petals along the boulevard in the park charm me. We walked atop white petals too. Ah Spring. You’ve been a beauty!
May 11, 2013
I enjoyed being a Career Day guest speaker. The fourth graders were great listeners! One class even clapped after I read my poem, “sing your song.” Others ooo’ed and ahh’ed at my artwork as it appeared on the smart board. I have a new skill now too: Smart Board Operator. I’ve already been invited back for next year!
May 10, 2013
This afternoon I’ll be speaking to three 4th grade classes about careers in art. I’ve had a few: gallery watcher, gallery crew/gallery watcher, graphic artist and art director. Currently I’m a fine artist and volunteer art teacher. I’m also to work in references to reading and math. I’m going to thrill the teachers when I say, “Artists need to know how to add and divide fractions.” ‘Tis true! I’m sending each child home with a copy of my poem, “sing your song”, as well as a brochure of summer classes offered at the McLean County Arts Center and business cards for Main Gallery 404. I added an extra copy to each stack so the teacher can have one too. Next week my Art Club will receive the same packet. Oh, how I love sharing the fun of creating art with others. Especially children. *happy sigh*
May 10, 2013
“sunset”
May 7, 2013
Photograph taken from the sidewalk, where I was walking with Blue after supper. It was a peace full, happy moment too. (The shot itself was downright lucky - I only took one, as the dog and I paused in our walk long enough to get it…or should that be paws’ed?!)
Sitting on the back patio now. In the shade to avoid sun glare on my laptop screen. Have the wind in my hair - a l’il breezy but overall not bad. My dog is keeping me company and my youngest son just joined me. I’d summoned him out of doors to have a conversation - about cussing…because he said if he could cuss it’d let some of his mad out. I hear that! So much like his mama the way he slams doors, stomps and grr’s. I call him my grizzly bear cub and sign notes to him, “Grizzly Bear Mama.”
April 14, 2013
excerpt from personal email correspondance
I’m in the midst of typesettin’ two more of my grandfather’s Western Tales. Yesterday I caught myself readin’ instead of movin’ fast, flowin’ type, applyin’ style sheets, and fixin’ up his wonderful words for bein’ self published and bound into yet another family and friends book. Perhaps his last, as at 97, we know his body is wearin’ out.
Certain phrases and plot twist moments, keep jumping off my computer screen as I work, that make me grin and guffaw. Then there are others that make my heart squeeze in empathy.
The line of dialogue speaking to me right now is after the sheriff received a letter from concerned parents, asking after their hastily married off daughter who was sent away, “in trouble.” Instead of replying that she’d had her baby, and a few days later her worthless, no good varmint, rat of a husband was dead - murdered - Sheriff Wells simply said where they could reach their daughter. His mentor, John Wade, replied after readin’ the communique in progress, “Good shot. Let her tell her own story.”
Indeed. Yes. The other bit of advice I keep readin’ is to keep your head up high, no matter what the circumstances in your life. Lots of horse talk too. How I love that!
I’m completely charmed by my grandfather’s writing. Stories. Songs. Poetry. I have been since childhood. It’s more poignant now. Readin’ with a woman’s heart.
He’s a marvel. Still alive and kickin’, atop a bluff overlookin’ the mighty Mississippi River where he’s lived since he was nine months old, other than those years he was needed to serve his country in WWII. He began writing stories while recovering from night patrol injuries in a hospital in England. The Red Cross gave him paper. He mailed the stories home. All because he’d read everything he could get his hands on, and figured he could do as well or better. Once he started writing, he never stopped. That is a lesson for me, and all the aspiring authors I know. Writers write. A lot.
~ Janean Marie Thompson Baird
April 10, 2013
Quote from, “The Invincible Three” by Erwin A. Thompson.
