Wrinkles and All - Social Media with a few virtual wrinkles

Then - A different Song

You won’t believe me when I tell you, it was just a few months ago I was crying and kicking the wall about blogging and Facebook as my friends were dragging me to the computer. I didn’t want to enter that world of technology. I just wanted to write and paint but now I have found myself working on a virtual store.

This store will encompass uploading e-books and art workshops. I am being carried away with Social Media like the rest of the world. Social Media is the way it is, whether business or personal, whether we like it or not.

“Shaking the bushes” once meant artists were doing art shows and taking their art to galleries. Shaking the bushes today means Social Networking and building a virtual cliental.

The pillow was talking to me. What was I going to do? Was I going to move with the future and keep up with the younger artists or give in and rest on what use to be?

In the 80’s and 90’s I called on galleries, interior decorators and businesses. I toted art in and out of many businesses in Albuquerque. Many of these businesses still have my art on their walls today. I worked with decorators and contractors and painted for many model homes. I also did my share of art shows in the blistering sun. It was the way we did business.

Art gallery owners will tell you, “Send us pictures of your art online. We will decide if your art will work in our store. A successful gallery owner is not twiddling his thumbs waiting for clients to walk through his doors, he is on the computer sending art online to his clients.

My friend has asked me for years, “Why did you write this or that book? If you write them, then you are in the business, like it or not.”

My answer has always been, “I just have to write, that’s what I do.”

Then she looked around at my inventory and said, “You should be getting more of your work out there so others can enjoy it.” And I always answered her, “I know.” I know and doing it is a far cry.

I spent a week in Clovis, New Mexico with this friend. I went to Clovis to help her redecorate two cottages she owned. She was not ready and the reason for me being there changed.

“We need to get you on You Tube, you need a virtual store and a web site for your art and books,” She said.

So we began the process. She knew a production company and we were soon shooting a DVD for an Online Watercolor Painting Workshop. I also needed a Promo to go with it. As I looked into the monitor, I became very aware I was no longer thirty years old and the camera was showing only what it saw, wrinkles and all.

I read a quote from Oliver Cromwell. “Mr. Lely desires that you would use all your skill to paint my picture truly like me. And not flatter me at all; but remark all these roughnesses, pimples, warts, and everything as you see me, otherwise I will never pay you a farthing for it.”

What did Mr. Cromwell have in mind? Was he saying? Paint me as I am, but show me beautiful? I was feeling the same way.

My question to my friend was, “Do the young people see beyond an older person? Can they see forty-five years of experience or do they see someone’s grandmother with wrinkles? Can they learn from us or even want to?

My friend fired back a response, “What are your demographics? Who are you planning to reach?”

“I guess those who want to learn how to paint? Making a workshop video seemed to be the next step. But now I wonder if age makes a difference?”

She continued, “Take for instance, if you were going to appeal to the readers of the AARP Magazine, you wouldn’t be seeing someone in a bikini, you would most likely see an ad for Depends. We had a good laugh, but it still didn’t answer my question.

“Does that mean I have to play rap music and have a crazy wild look?”

During the week in Clovis, I went from the production of a video, a promo and all the self-consciousness of entering a younger world, a new generation of entrepreneurs. I comforted myself that I wasn’t selling a dating service or diet pills, I was teaching others how to paint.

So now what? Who am I selling? I’m still not sure. Now it is time for shaking the bushes virtually; another lesson to be learned. I guess it is “wait and see”.

“My eye has played the painter,” I am counting on the eye which plays the painter, who doesn’t care about wrinkles or warts, but appreciates art and sees beyond to see beauty. If Social Media is the next step in staying up with the times, count me in. I am not sure what all that means but I know it is the way it’s going.

Final Brushstroke! We arrive as a novice at each age of our life and take the risk of learning something new.

Everyone knows Larry

Everyone says to me, “I love to read about Al.” Who would have thought Al would become my muse, my inspiration for these articles? Al has been behaving himself lately, but the week isn’t over yet.

How did my sweet Al become my muse? I didn’t know I was being inspired, I thought it was an irritation. Is this inspiration? It hides its self very well. Usually out of irritation and something that drives me up the wall, I laugh at Al because he is who he is. Then it becomes funny, and I look at my self, and know there is a lesson or principle for me to learn. Then there seems to be something to write about.

Looking up the word “muse”, I found that there were muses for the different kinds of sciences and arts. People call on muses to get into their zone, so to speak; such as Clio, the muse of history; Thalia, the muse of comedy; Melpomno, the muse of tragedy, Calliope, the muse of epic poetry. They were Greek myths, Greek gods and goddesses but my muse is real. He is not a figment of my imagination, he lives in my zone. I am looking at him right now and I think, “Who is this guy? I am plumb crazy about him; he is one in a million.”

So everyone has their own muse. I recently wrote an article on “Traveling with Sweet Al.” It brought up some great comments which spurred on this article.

Julie writes from Minnesota, “I love this story, Betty - it reminds me of me and Larry - how I want to cringe when he wants everyone in the check-out line to hear what clever thing he thinks he is saying, or how he knows the names of everyone behind every counter he frequents or how he is greeted by them all when we both walk in to an establishment - and I'm thinking, "everyone knows Larry!"”

When I think of Larry, I think of a party. If you haven’t met Larry, I am sure you will one day. When Larry and Julie come to Pagosa, Larry goes to the ball games with Al. Last time apparently he had all the people in the bleachers cracking up. They all went home laughing and talking about Larry. He is charming and his ways are enduring, he never meets a stranger, he brings the party and we all love Larry. Yes, everyone not only knows Larry but loves Larry.

Larry and Julie spend time with us every year. He is the guy who will come, visit and paint our house and wash our windows which are twenty feet in the air. Julie is right beside him, she supports and cares. If you need a cheerleader, Julie is the one you want around. So when this young couple comes, we are glad to see them.

Does the fact that everyone knows Larry bother us? No, we all want to be like him. We wouldn’t change him for the world. So when Julie writes, it is interesting that those things that are so endearing to outsiders will drive the person they live with, crazy.

Another comment from a wife writes, “My husband was always whistling, I hated it. He came in the door whistling, I would tell him to stop it. He doesn’t whistle anymore. He has lost his song. We are no longer married.” It sounds like she lost her song as well.

Everyone has their song, and they need to sing it. When we muzzle another person’s music because it is not our tune, we take away something from them, and we miss something beautiful in return. The man, who whistled because he was happy, doesn’t whistle anymore. That is sad to me. I know the man. He used to have a song in his heart.

For sweet Al, I wouldn’t change him for anything. He always tells me, “When you write, stay sweet.” Maybe it is me that needs to be changed. I don’t know about this muse thing, but Al has given me my own song to sing. He remains my inspiration. There is no deal-breaker here.

Final Brushstroke! Enjoy the one who sings a different song; he might just be your muse.

Ain't Nothin' but a Hound Dog!

My neighbor, an avid dog lover, asked if I would write about owning and enjoying a dog. My response was, “Me? You’ve got to be kidding. I’m not a dog person.” Everyone around me loves and owns dogs and I am knee deep in them too, I don’t understand it.

I’d venture to say there are a lot of dog lovers in Pagosa. This subject could split the readers down the middle. I tread lightly. Al is the one that says, “Love me, Love my dog.”

I am very selective when it comes to dogs. I don’t like them to lick, slobber, bark or jump up on me and I don’t want them on my furniture. Isn’t that what dogs do? How can they help themselves? Once in a while, when I pass by I might say something nice to one of them. But probably not! Dog lovers would gasp and say I am flawed. I probably am, but it’s not in me to talk baby talk or carry on a conversation with a dog.

I live with sweet Al who has had a dog since the day we got married. When he goes out of town, he reminds me to feed his dog. “Of course, I’ll feed your dog, I do not want to see any of them hurt or go hungry. I am not that bad!”

Last November there were six little puppies born to our friend’s registered Labrador, three black and three chocolates. Our children spoke for one of the brown ones who has big yellow eyes and is lively and active. They call her Deizel.

Our daughter who now lives near us has always wanted a Labrador so it was the perfect opportunity for her to have one. So Al surprised her with a little black Labrador from the same litter. She is called Daizy.

They understood that the puppies might not be completely Labrador due to Super Dog who was able to jump over tall fences. They would take their chances.

The two sisters, Deizel and Daizy are growing up side by side. My daughter says about Daizy, “I pray every night that Daizy is a pure-bred Labrador.” The more the two pups grow, the more different they are becoming. Deizel, the little chocolate pup, has a Labrador head, pudgy nose, soft hair, a Lab’s tail and a little on the chunky side.

On the other hand, Daizy, who has beautiful brown eyes which melts your heart, wants to sleep all day. She is precious and has stolen hearts. Al rocks her and holds her and her feet never touch the ground. She is treated like a baby, loved and enjoyed. She goes with Al or our daughter everywhere. She waits for a treat and is constantly under feet. She goes to Daddy Day Care and when our daughter comes home, Daizy excitedly runs to see her.

Lately I am seeing a difference; Daizy’s body is lean and long, her hair is course and wiry, her nose is pointed and she could fly with her very, very long ears. Maybe her ears are growing first, maybe that’s her problem.

The other day I discovered big droopy jowls on Daizy and I laughingly made mention to our daughter, “Daizy is looking more like a hound dog. You can quit praying, your prayers aren’t going to do her any good. She is a hound dog.”

Our daughter was very offended and upset. She told me, “Don’t call her a hound dog. She is beautiful. I love her just as she is. Don’t say that in front of Daisy.”

Al warned me, “No mother wants to hear that her baby is ugly and looks like a monkey, you better peddle easy on this one. Love is blind.”

Our daughter fired back at Al, “She doesn’t look like a monkey, and stop calling her “Long Ears”, I measured her ears with Deizel’s and they are only two inches longer.”

I responded, “In dog ears, that’s long. Al, I thought you said peddle easy on this one. Probably the first lesson in love is learning to love those with flaws.”

Daisy has captured hearts. It really doesn’t matter how long her ears are or if her eyes droop, she is our daughter’s constant companion and brings her so much enjoyment.

When Al had a nervous breakdown twenty years ago, his dog literally helped him get well. “Lady” was at his side night and day. I actually painted a portrait of Lady. That was a sweet dog.

Now that I think about it more… The fact dogs blindly love us no matter what we look like; if we are rich or poor, successful or not, sick or well. Maybe their love is blind and that’s what we need to learn from dogs. They are loyal beyond the call of duty. I understand why my neighbor asked me to write about loving a dog.

When I tell the dogs, “get away, get away, get away, get down, get down,” they continue to lick me in the face and jump up on me. They insist on loving me, flawed and all. Isn’t that something?

Final Brushstroke! A dog brings balance to our lives. A dog doesn’t ask to share its life with us; we ask them to come into our lives. They are happy with a little pat on the head and a couple of feedings a day. We can all learn from a dog.

History in a Drawer

When you throw the reins upon the neck of imagination, a slight phrase will open closed drawers. This is exactly what happened when a friend posted on Facebook; she was cleaning drawers and ran across a poem written to her by her mother. Another friend responded, “It is fun to find history in a drawer.”


When I told Al that this phrase kept speaking to me, he said, “I have a whole trunk of trophies and I wonder if I should get rid of them. We’ve hauled them around for years. They are not worth anything.”

I responded, “But those trophies showed eighteen years of your life and what you did. You are not able to do that today and you wouldn’t want to. Those years took the life out of you, but we have a lot of stories to tell.”

I remember every trophy Al won. I was a proud wife standing beside him. He was an over-achieving husband who worked hard trying to prove his worth to me and his company. We both gave up a lot, he traveled week after week and I kept the home together. Was it the ideal situation? No, but we thought it was at the time and those trophies were golden images showing we lived that life. Best Salesman of the Quarter, Salesman of the year, Most Improved, President’s Birthday Week, Broken Records, they all provided confidence of who we thought we were.

In my print drawer are myriads of art ideas, some good, some great, some could be better with a little work. For two years in the 90’s I worked for an internet company, called USAPainter.com. I phoned painters all over the country; residential and commercial, interviewing and writing about them. That’s when I met Julie and Larry from Minnesota.

Larry is a painter and I interviewed and wrote about Julie, “The Painter’s Wife”. The interview was so funny and we developed such a winsome relationship we decided to work on a project together. We developed a whole cartoon strip with the boss, a secretary and the workers. They were great cartoons and the idea could have been big and still could be, but it was dropped because life, children and family took over and our direction changed. Maybe it is time to pull those out of the drawer.

“The Happy Painter” is a cartoon series and another idea. On the Web we had six seconds to grab the viewer’s attention and cartoons could do that. They had very little text and a picture that told it all and were humorous. I began drawing cartoons about painters. Al had a short stint as a painter in his early days. He fell off the house, spilt a gallon of paint on a lady’s rosebush, and that ended his days as a painter. But, oh, the stories I could tell about Al through the cartoons. I hadn’t thought about those for years until I thought about “history in a drawer.”

Those cartoons were so funny and endearing to me as I poked fun of my sweet Al. I could just see Al spilling a bucket of blue paint on the lady’s roses and painting all the roses in the yard blue to cover up his mistake. And how many times has Al painted me into a corner? Or himself? I can not count the times. And using his Volkswagen as a paint truck carrying a 30 foot ladder on top or when he needed a paint strainer. He cut off one leg of my pantyhose and left the other one in the drawer. Yes, “It is fun to find history in a drawer.”

Is it time to pull out the cartoons and dust them off? Maybe they were what they needed to be at the time. They’ve had their shelf life. In those cartoon years some beautiful relationships developed. Many of those experiences have lent to the Artist’s Lane articles today. “Everyone Knows Larry” is one of them. We are still laughing.

Some times when I see all I have done over the years, I scratch my head and think, “What was that about? Just another item on my resume’.” Those years of history add to who and what we are today and also the friendships we brought along the way. They show years of self sacrifice, work, diligence, purpose and enjoyment. Yes, a lot of enjoyment. They did have purpose, maybe not the way we thought. We were just writing our story as we lived it.

Final Brushstroke: Nothing is wasted, it’s our history, it’s who we are and it leads us to our purpose.