While I'm doing show and tell ("The Winner")

This is the painting of my super-sexy husband that won an award!! yay!!

For the record, It never crossed my mind while painting this that people might see the lighthouse in the background as an er...phallic symbol. They did. (embarrassing.)

and ("The Reject")

This is the illustration that was rejected from a local exhibit of work for children.

She WAS beautiful...

Today's Sitter

Perhaps she wasn't beautiful,

Today's sitter, in the patterned hippie dress
my husband, who prides himself on his eye for that sort of thing, thought not.
But I was fascinated by her nonetheless
by her boyish half sentences
and her frizzy hair.
She smelled of smoke.
A pity, I thought
it will one day wreck havoc on all that translucent skin,
then maybe the lines on her face will match it's wizened expression.
She was going to Thailand,
or Vietnam.
Or one of those places young people go nowadays
instead of France.
Perhaps she wasn’t beautiful,
but I prefer her to the photogenic blond from last week
with the carefully applied make-up and the complacent smile.

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(I started this painting and later wrote the poem in the hopes of retrofitting it to work for a juried exhibit of "art based on poetry". Sadly, I was unable to finish the painting in time to enter. (This photo only shows the finished part - it's full length but the bottom still a sketch.) From what I could tell jurist was a thoroughly modern gal so it may have all been for the best anyway. Who knows if she'd have chosen a portrait. And a rejection would have crushed my soul.

To date I have entered two other juried shows. In the first I won an award for painting of my dear hubby. The second was a show of children's art and I was rejected. Yes, my soul was crushed... )

"Twenty-Year-Old Brother Marries Girl He's Known Three Months" or "Yes, My Family is Mormon"

Ok, I exaggerated, but not by much. He'll have known her six months on the day of the wedding (Aug. 22nd). They were engaged after three months and he's been in the UK on a study abroad (without her) for the last three.

I would chock the whole disaster up to sexual desperation, but it's more complex than that. Right before meeting this girl he was desperately in love with another - but she dumped him on his butt while he was away on him Mormon mission. So the prognosis: sexual desperation AND a bad rebound case.

I feel sorry for his bride. She's a very nice girl and looks like she's about ten years old. Fifty bucks says that she'll be pregnant within a year.

My shocked husband tried to talk some sense into the boy but was ignored. I tried too and ended up yelling over the phone, "YOU ARE GOING TO WRECK YOUR LIFE AND HERS!". Nice.

Once it was all a done deal and he'd proposed I designed their wedding invitations in order to kiss and make-up. (Shown right).

I was also pressured to write a poem to read at their reception and that's also below. My other brothers all all writing poems too. Such a pity for us all that it's a dry wedding. Actually, the timing really isn't that bad. It's not like I would get smashed anyway. Not with my alien child to consider.

Anyway, here's the (sappy but true) poem:

No Longer Three

My memories have faded, as I left when you were young
But in my early teens, I cared for you like a son
Your first word was "Nanny"
an accurate description,
as well of your rendition of, "Mandy".

One phrase you always hated was "Oh, that was before you were born".
You wanted to be a big kid, and I wanted you to stay newborn

Or at the least a toddler, of one or two or three
Chasing down the cat or bouncing on my knee
But you grew up too quickly
Or at least too quickly for me.

But don't worry, brother mine, I know that you're all grown
I'm proud of you for many things (though of others make me groan).
It shocks me to see you married, but it's clear that you choose well.
I hope she'll teach you to stay young at heart your brand new bride, your Holly belle.

Just please forgive me in advance, cause when you are old and bald,
And no longer go by Rob or Hal -- "Daddy" is what you're called.
You can still count on me
To be oblivious, to the fact, that you're no longer three.

Hire Me

Pregnant lady with poor social skills seeks creative, meaningful work where she will not have to attend meetings, interact with co-workers, present to clients or email anybody at all. A talented writer, artist, and designer she lacks the motivation to finish most projects and would prefer not to alter anything to accommodate the client's comments. A terrible manager, she has extensive experience redoing subordinates work so she is not forced to mentor them -- or even speak to to them at all. If a new version of software is introduced she is unlikely to learn the features. She finds the small vintage toys that decorate your desk trite and does not want to hear about your new Mac. If hired, she will soon go on pregnancy leave, never to return.

I'm pregnant with an alien spawn

The truth isn't out there...

It's right in here.

(Lord save me, I'm so creeped out! Maybe it's just a stage or something....)