Author: Sandy Webster

I met this man on the street as I was leaving the coffee shop and asked if I could take his picture. Then I asked how he was doing in this deeply trump town. His upbeat answer was that “It is hard to be angry with Uncle Sam.” I admired him for this. Especially when I had been told that a local business tried to run him off the sidewalk in front of their store. He reminded them that it was public property and he would walk wherever he wanted…”this is America” he reminded them.

In my neighborhood there is a corner of four houses displaying trump signs. After the debate earlier this week and the obvious decline into the deplorable behavior of their choice to run this country, I would have thought they’d be embarrassed enough to pull their signs in. But, no, all are firmly in place.

And because there are new people moving in, I am embarrassed for them. And ordered my equal-sized Harris for president sign. It will be delivered and stuck in the ground this Sunday. I will quickly take a picture of it in place before it will maybe disappear. Funny how only Democrat signs go missing in this country since trump controls the minds of his believers.

Please let this year be the end of the abhorrent behavior that has taken over an entire political party in this country.

My television died this week. And because I have a kind cleaning lady with an even kinder husband, my new one was quickly hooked up and the old one taken away.

A neighbor and I wanted to have Mexican food but realized that it tastes better with a margarita. A margarita makes driving back home hazardess. So I asked at the liquor store what I needed to make them at home. And was told there exists an already mixed margarita they could sell me instead…Jose Cuervo golden margarita in a nice large bottle. So I brought it home, set up our bar area, bought chips, salsa, and guacamole to go with our take out chicken taco salads.

We finished the meal off with a strawberry/margarita sorbetto. It seems we are both too old to have had a second margarita, so called it a night at seven. Both of us wanted time to rest up before the presidential debate starting in two hours. And I must say that in 2016 I quit hanging an American flag. Embarrassed for my country and having a hard time trying to explain the fear, selfishness, and ignorance that put such a foul human being in the top office to totally befuddled Australians and Canadians, I quit taking pride in our country. But after Joe Biden stepped aside in a selfless move to put his very competent vice president forward as candidate for president, I am breathing the sigh of relief shared by the rest of the free world. I might even get myself a flag!

Here are a couple shots of inside my house where I spend time when it involves food and drink. I have no idea why I took them, but here they are.

It is a good day for writing, so I am going back to my short story, Shadows, and maybe a bit of poetry.

Til later…..

I think the time is flying by in weeks.  Here it is Saturday again. So the day starts with laundry and vacuuming. Latte and English muffin. Water the gardens (which are minimal). Accepting an invitation to meet neighbors later this weekend. Once all of that is done, then pick up with my audio book from the library and draw something.

The basket makers of Tasmania were gathering again so I had to add more to my Gathering Book.

The other day on the way back from the gym.

Night before last my television decided to quit. a year and a half was all it had in it. I spent over an hour on the phone with a heavily-accented technical help person who slowly, very slowly took me through all the steps to get it up and running again. To no avail. I ordered a new one. It will come on Monday. Perhaps when my cleaning lady is here. Hopefully after I return from my early morning every five-week hair appointment.  Then it is just unplug one and plug another in. Simple, right?

Tomorrow morning I will mix up some insect control compound to spray around the house. My cleaning lady says I will only have to do it twice a year. It is time, as the crickets like to come in from the chilly night. Mostly they stay hidden until the cats coax them out. They won’t eat them, which I am happy for. But a lonely male, whining, cricket hidden under a bookcase is not something I want to hear all night.

I went to poetry this week and read Old. The critique comments on the copies returned were positive. But I think that is mostly due to the easy association they had with the idea of arriving in that place themselves. I need to get back to writing more. Since I have decided to not make art work that will only pile up, I need something for my creative mind that will not slow down. This next week I should promise myself to finish a short story and get The Fairy Book available to the public. I do have it all laid out and only need to go over it again. Re-read the introduction and send it in.

I have yet to understand my fellow writers’ need to be recognized and published in esteemed collections. What does it matter? It is the writing that seems so much more important than having some distant and unknown “authority” claim you have been accepted and now recognized. I see that it might matter greatly if you are adding it to a resume that will get you further in a career. But otherwise, just write and then write some more. And do it because the words can’t stay bottled up inside. They need to be lined up on a page, one following the other, until it is said, and then you can get on with the discovery of what comes next.

Here is a bit of philosophical observation from this morning.

There is still way too many “things” still taking up space in my house. Mostly here in the studio….materials, books, tools. How much of this will I even use once I  realized that it won’t be needed. Without students that I would meet on a regular basis, there is little opportunity to get the things into hands that can use it to help their visions be realized. It is hard to keep our work spaces from looking like an old man’s shed full of the “just in case I need it” accumulation.

But, it will find its way out of here one way or another.

I think I am going to pour an early  glass of wine and listen to a man read me a story.

Til later….

Lovely mornings going into the gym. This was the last photo taken with my IPhone XR. It took well over two hours in the store to get my new Apple 15 pro phone up and running. The connecting and charging cords have changed to be universal and compatible with androids which added even more expense to the store visit. But it is done and my photographs are supposed to be so much better.

So I tested that earlier today by taking pictures of the back yard.

I notice the better quality in the close up detail of the first image here. Nice.

I have another roll of phyllo sheets to use up. So this afternoon I am going to sauté onions and mushrooms. Add in cut up roasted chicken, spinach with cheeses and an egg to get a filling to fold into the well-buttered three layers of phyllo sheets. Once cut lengthwise, I can put a healthy scoop on and fold flag fashion one end to the other. Brush with more melted butter and bake. Then put in the freezer with the others I made using ham and spinach with cheeses to make for quick lunches or dinners. The only thing I don’t mind making from scratch for just myself is shrimp and pasta. And that has spinach and tomatoes in it.

A trip to the liquor store to ask what I should buy to make some margaritas resulted in my bringing home a premixed bottle of everything I need but salt on the rim. Margaritas are the problem if I want to go out to a Mexican restaurant with a friend. So now I have it solved. We will get take out chips, salsa and taco salads. Then come back here, fix our drinks and settle in to the Mexican restaurant experience.

By nine thirty this morning I had my laundry finished, floors vacuumed, trip to the store and back home to make the bed back up and fold laundry. Now for some baking and I can call it a day!

This week I needed to stitch around more pages for the little book about night time. My mind can go anywhere once a needle is threaded. No wonder my mother always had her sewing bag close by.

Well, I better get busy in the kitchen.

One more thing. When I told the coffee men that I was getting a new IPhone in hopes of getting better pictures of the full moons, they told me it would never happen. I asked why and was told the moon is always moving. Those boys are worth their weight!

Til later….

I am walking to and from my tai chi classes again. It feels good.

And my drive to the gym earlier in the morning put the full moon on display over the library. I miss seeing the moon in the skies from my old place where there were no buildings and power lines.

I had a small dinner here for the group at the table at wine tasting this past week. Four under thirty and four over (well over) seventy. A good mix. One manages the old courthouse functions here in town and they have an auction once a year. I showed her work I had no use for and asked if they would like to have it for their auction. She said yes and hopefully she will come back in a couple of months to pick it up.

I have no use for some of the pieces I still own and have no other way of getting rid of it. No, it is not enough to hire another back hoe to bury it. And I am reminded of the last time I said I had some work available to sell. A neighbor from my old place emailed me that she did not want to pay the asking price and offered half. I still do not have much to do with her as she comments on my public posts. I will give work away before I encourage those who do not value other’s time and efforts. If you like something, buy it. If you can’t afford the full asking price, make arrangements for payments…but never offer half the price as if you are buying day old bread.

When I was looking for work to pass on I found this piece from years ago….a combination of my printmaking, cloth and stitch. I like it and think the only other one like it is in somebody’s home in Australia. I loved finding text from old paper back books to clip out and add to the image. Then writing a short statement in my own hand and selecting paint, fabrics and thread to complete the collage. What will happen when artists no longer know how to do a cursive writing into the image?

This piece is only 9″ x 12″ in its mat. Surely I can find a place to hang it and remember what was going on in my head when I put it together.

So now at eighty and looking for something to busy my hands, I found a cigar box filled with these folios I made by folding 8″ x 4″ text block paper in half and stitching around the edges after brushing gesso in the center section on each side. If I make a signature with two folios each, then I could make a book. A book of nightfall til dawn. Each small painting will have an opposite page for text.  If nothing else, it gives me something to play with and easily fits in the trash when I conclude it simply didn’t work. Here are the pictures done in watercolor over gesso, sanded, and paint moved around once more.

that is about it for now.

til later…..