About My Cousin—a Quick Roadtrip

This post is almost entirely personal. My oldest cousin died, and his family and friends gathered to remember him.

He was almost 12 years old than me. I always looked up to him, my big cousin, sort of intimidating, remote, distant. In spite of not really knowing him, I always loved his wife and felt more related to her and their kids than to him.

In 2012, I was doing an art show in Visalia, and out of the blue, Cousin and Mrs. Cousin appeared. I was shocked speechless—they were so out of context. Mrs. Cousin said I looked at them, and said, “Who are you??”

That’s kind of embarrassing. But we got a great laugh out of it and still are laughing.

A little while later, Cousin asked me to paint something for Mrs. Cousin. I was shocked, because family lore has always been that because of our Scottish heritage, we are all cheap. Ahem. Frugal. But more on that later.

Cousin and I had some great phone conversations, and he bought a pencil drawing that I was working on during one of those long visits. (See? All my friends and family feel sorry for me so they keep me in business.)

We saw each other a couple of more times in person, and Mrs. Cousin asked me to paint something for him as a surprise.

He lived 300 miles away, but I gladly made the drive recently to be with my remaining cousins for less than 24 hours. It was worth it. I decided it was a business trip, because Cousin was a customer, but I was planning to go before I figured out that little added benefit, which would have made his frugal heart proud.

Here is some documentation that it was indeed a business expense to pay my respects to a beloved customer who happened to be my oldest cousin.

About that supposedly Scottish trait of cheapness frugality: Cousin had his DNA done and learned that we have zero Scottishness. Zero! Kind of blew his joke that “We’re Scottish and Irish—we like to drink but don’t want to pay for it”. (I possibly could have some “Scotch” from other family sources, but I won’t know because I’m too paranoid and conspiracy-minded to take that test. I DO have Irish, but I don’t drink. So there.)

Tempted Away From Painting

On a fabulously springlike day in February, Trail Guy tempted me away from painting: easy to do when there are wildflowers and it isn’t hot and I don’t have a tight deadline.

First, I noticed all the chemtrails. Yeah, yeah, I know, “contrails”, but I still think there are way more than we have passenger jets above. The general direction is usually south to north, or west to east. I believe something secretive and possibly nefarious is taking place. Yes, I am susceptible to conspiracy theories; often the distance between one of those theories and reality is about 6 months.

We drove down toward Kaweah Lake, parked at the upper end of the Slick Rock area and then meandered upstream along the river, with a wee bit of accidental trespassing behind the Lazy J Motel.

A great redbud in the parking lot!

We headed toward the river, went across someone’s former foundation and down these steps to the river trail.

In putting this post together, I remembered WAIT (Why Am I Talking?) and decided that the photos can do the talking today.

I also decided to start looking for a new camera.

Eight Things Learned in February

Way too many turkeys

1.The most fun thing I learned is that Reader Sharon had a heart-shaped potato.

2. My friends went to Jordan and Israel, and I recognized all but one of the places just from their photos. Actually, I recognized that they were in Petra, which I knew was in Jordan, but I don’t understand the Biblical connection, having never read about Petra in the Bible. I learned that it was Edom, which was where Esau and his people lived. It shows up by that name multiple times, and it reminds me of a canyon in Death Valley. Here, look at the canyon I’m thinking of:

Okay, not totally. The rock walls in Petra are much smoother and more colorful.

This was 5 years ago in Death Valley. Guess I remembered it as more colorful than it was.

3. I tried and didn’t finish three books: Pachinko by Min Jin Lee, The Next Day by Melinda Gates and My Friends by Fredrick Backman. The first one was repetitive and tiresome with people making bad decisions over and over; I couldn’t relate to Melinda’s life; the third was just full of depressing details and foul language. Since I was listening to an audio version, I decided to not get all that embedded in my brain. Life’s too short to spend time reading (and listening to) books that are not enjoyable. This wasn’t really a new thing to learn, but I seem to have been a wee bit mentally idle in February, so it made the list.

4. I learned the name of a new weed: Hedge Bedstraw. Weird. It’s also called False Baby’s Breath, which causes me to wonder if I should just let it grow. It’s kind of hard to pull, because it is so low growing.

5. Have you ever heard of Chocolate Avocado Mousse? Me either, but I saved a recipe because it just looked so bizarre. Seems like it would be a waste of both avocados and chocolate.

6. Finally, I learned that the sturdier Crocs that have been working as hiking “boots” for me are no longer made: All Terrain and Off Road. I found some on Amazon. I also learned that just because they seem to be the same shape as the ones that I just walked a hole in the sole, they gave me a blister.

7. In addition to wearing a hole in the sole of my Crocs, a hole is developing in the sole of my slippers. Because I am frugal, I didn’t buy new yarn to make a replacement pair. Instead, I went to my yarn stash and chose 4 possible samples, knitted up swatches, and then washed them to see which felted best. It didn’t really matter if they looked great, so I did a tiny bit of mixing and matching to squeeze out enough yarn for two slippers. If one takes the same number of steps with each foot, why does one sole wear faster than the other? Hmmm, I might be walking a little bit funny since one foot is more numb than the other. So, what did I learn? Nothing, really. But the February Learned List was short, so I tossed this in. You’re welcome.

These knitted swatches got tossed before they became cruft.

8. Cruft is a great word that wraps up clutter, junk, stuff, and porkadelia all into one little package. Here is the definition from DuckDuckGo: “Cruft is a jargon word for anything that is left over, redundant and getting in the way. It is used particularly for defective, superseded, useless, superfluous, or dysfunctional elements in computer software” (but I don’t care about computer software).

Did you learn anything new in February?

Just thinking about inspiration

Just outside the gallery/museum where I teach weekly drawing lessons.

People love to ask artists what inspires them. This is kind of annoying, because generally speaking, artists just love to make their art, not sit around contemplating the reasons. An artist who helped me get going in oils said that what inspired him were the bills in his PO box. I’ve occasionally pondered the question of inspiration, and all I can ever come up with is so mundane, predictable, commonplace, and ordinary that it embarrasses me to admit such a thing.

a morning walk

And the answer is. . . . BEAUTY.

The same walk. . . these are fiddlenecks

Well, duh. Of course I have to surround it with something a little more detailed, something to make it a bit more challenging, because I came here to earn a living. I am looking for the beauty of Tulare County, this poor, uneducated, rural, overlooked place in the middle of California. We do not have the Golden Gate Bridge, Hollyweird, the beach, Lake Tahoe or Death Valley. But we do have Mt. Whitney, sequoia trees, the largest oaks, the best citrus, more dairy than the entire state of Wisconsin and an enormous variety of agriculture. So, I continue to look for the beauty here in Tulare County.

A little life remains in this surprise bouquet, salvaged by the oh-so-thoughtful Trail Guy from flowers knocked over by rain.

Why? To generate pride (the good kind, not the sinful kind) in those of us who wonder what holds us here (No Trader Joe’s?? Who can withstand this sort of deprivation?) And, of course, to sell. We get a million or so folks (nope, haven’t looked up the numbers) passing through Three Rivers on their way to The Park (AKA Sequoia National Park) every year.

Sitting at a long traffic light on the drive home. Those are orange trees, in case you were wondering. And why not enjoy the sunset instead of being frustrated by the wait? There are only 3 traffic lights on my weekly commute, and I can actually skip all of them by choosing less direct routes.

That’s it, that’s all. Beauty inspires me. God is the creator, I am the imitator. And sales, because without those, I might have to get a real job, and then I wouldn’t have as much time to appreciate beauty.

P.S. Happy Birthday, Dad. You would have been 94, and although other family members have that longevity, it ain’t pretty.

A List of What’s Occupying My Time and Thoughts

Taxes

We haven’t gotten our 1099s from Social Security yet and don’t know if they will come in the mail or if we have to do something impossible online to receive them. As if doing taxes wasn’t abhorrent enough, there are so many obstacles and difficulties just getting stuff ready for the accountant.

Shoes

I walked a hole into the bottom of my hiking Crocs and my new Crocs gave me a blister—how is this possible when I wear the same shoes all the time?

So cute but not Crocs.

Several times I’ve sent a giant expensive heavy box of decent shoes we no longer wear to a place in Montana called Provision International. They gather huge containers of usable shoes and ship them to places where people need shoes.

You can bet your boots that I will NEVER EVER wear shoes like these again.

Watches

After trying for several years to find a watch that I can change the battery on, I finally quit buying Timex and paid big money for a watch that doesn’t need a battery. But what is one supposed to do with old watches? I have five that won’t work, the nicest because something non-battery-related is wrong and 4 because the back cannot/will not/does not come off. The one time I was successful, it was impossible to replace the back. Had to take it to a jeweler who used a special clamp.

I tried to find someone on Etsy who could use them. Nada. Listed on eBay. Nada. Contacted Veterans Watchmaker Initiative several ways. Nada. FINALLY I found a place called WeRecycleOldWatches and THEY REPLIED!! Then, after silence from Veterans Watchmaker Initiative regardless of method of contact, THEY REPLIED THE SAME DAY AS WE-RECYCLE-OLD-WATCHES! Because I think Veterans often get the short end of the stick, I packaged the watches and addressed it to them. Now, to take them to the PO and PAY to send them away. . . WHY do I do all this?

Motivation

What motivates me to do these things? I abhor waste, and it troubles me to just dump things. At the same time, I do NOT want to own things that don’t work or are no longer useful. So it seems that I spend an inordinate amount of time finding the right places and people for an endless supply of things. There is a continual push-and-pull between not wasting and a desire for a simple life.

Wrist

My DeQuervain’s Tenosynovitis is better. Only took 16 months. . . and I don’t completely trust the current state of almost painfree activity, so I wear the brace when doing wristy things. Using Photoshop or Powerpoint are particularly challenging.

Knitting

My yarn stash hasn’t been declining since the DeQuervain’s Tenosynovitis has curtailed my knitting. Yarn.com somehow reactivated my email and I almost succumbed to a sale, buying yarn after successfully being on a severe yarn diet for several years. “Almost succumbed” —saved by the fact that PayPal wouldn’t work with their site. “Try Later” —Nope, you lost a sale.

Rock Fun

My friend and I sometimes look for rocks together. It is so fun to go to the river and just putz around, without a permit, a fee, an application, a user name or a password, the option to hear things in Spanish, or hold “music”. We get dirty and sometimes we fall down while looking at rocks and digging around. Sometimes we find ones we want to keep. Sometimes they are a big project to extract and then to get up near the road where we go back with a vehicle to retrieve them. Don’t tell anyone, okay? I’m sure someone will try to stop us. . .

P.S. None of these drawings are available for sale. HOWEVER, I do accept commissions.

Just Some Stuff

These three topics are rattling around in my skull.

ONE

It rained and hailed rather ferociously while I was painting that indoor oak tree at my church; two days later I took this photo. Check out the first daffodils in bloom, in spite of the recent heavy cold storm.

TWO

The elephant was buried in snow. “Elephant?” That’s the shape that appears on Alta Peak after a snowstorm.

THREE

Stem & Stone* asked if I had any poppy and lupine paintings hanging around for sale. Nope. We discussed sizes and prices, with Stem & Stone suggesting something similar to the popular size 6×18” sequoia paintings. I countered with the fact that sequoia trees are more popular than poppies, thinking that $195 might seem steep for someone here visiting for the purpose of seeing sequoia trees. Stem & Stone suggested a smaller size but the same proportions. I found 2 small canvases in my supplies that fit the bill, both 3×9”. This gave me pause, but I agreed to try.

The cause for my pause is that very small paintings require holding it in my hand while painting and require tighter control, taking a disproportionate amount of time to paint. If I price by size, which is how the buying public makes sense of pricing, after Stem & Stone takes its agreed upon and fair bite out of the price, I am essentially working for less than minimum wage.

I speculated that is the reason many artists choose to paint loose and fast. I could try that method, but then the people who know my work would wonder if I’d been dropped on my head, had tried to paint left-handed, or lost my reading glasses.

Sigh. Sometimes it is really hard to be a professional artist.

HOWEVER, I did a rough sketch for Stem & Stone to see if it fit the vision.

*Stem & Stone is owned by a dear friend whose retail judgement I trust completely.

Indoor Oak Tree Finished

The fourth and final day’s plan was to complete leaves and add birds. So, that’s what I did, very systematically, working from right to left. Yes, that’s backward, but I chose that direction because it involved less couch moving.

After studying real oak trees for awhile, I thought I could be more realistic about the leaves than the previous days brush-tapping style. Nope. Never mind. Fast horse viewing might be a little inconvenient inside a room, but that’s what the leaves will require to be believable.

I had to move the couch to reach the left side. No big deal, because it scooted very easily on the waxed floor of hideous old linoleum squares. (I wonder how long before we view fake wood-look linoleum as hideous.)

After the leaves came the big challenge, which was the gravy on top, or maybe the cherry on top, or maybe just dessert: details, drawn with my paintbrushes, using colors other than greens and browns.

That was so fun that I did it again.

And a third time! Look, I even signed it. Not big, not my normal way. This is my church, not an advertisement for the public.

There’s the whole thing before the furniture got put back in place.

With the furniture back in place, we have an inviting gathering place in a room that used to be kind of institutional and quite junky. (Pay no attention to the institutional table and the upside down table in the center of the rug.)

And try to disregard the 1970s bentwood rocker with the grody-looking upholstery. (This is a church without any money, so everything has been donated, which contributes to the decorating style that is a blend of Shabby Chic and Early Garage.)

Here is a view that is fairly inviting. And that blue jay won’t poop on your head even if you sit on the couch.

I’m wishing I’d saved some of the Before photos from two years ago so you could fully appreciate the long road of decisions, negotiations, and hard work that led to this current situation.

The Building in the Library Mural

Good sunlit photo but before it was quite finished.

When I was designing the Ivanhoe Library mural, I dug around for photos of a building that is cemented in my memory as a beautiful old structure. (Apparently, I’ve loved old buildings all my life.) I found a photo of the Ivanhoe School auditorium in Laura Spalding’s book Ivanhoe—the Town with Three Names: Klink, Venice Hill, Ivanhoe. I was confused that her book identified it as “Ivanhoe Community Hall”, but I recognized it instantly as the building where I learned to play the clarinet*, gave my campaign speech to be the school president**, checked out books, and played the piano for the jazz band.

When I finished painting it, I added “Ivanhoe School Auditorium” and then thought it would be nice to provide the year it was built along with the year it went away.

Like most things in life, that was easier said than done. The librarian called the History Room at the main library branch, and was told it was built in 1932 and demolished in 1948.

Nope and nope. Architecturally speaking, it is clearly older than 1932, and since I graduated from Ivanhoe in 1973, I KNEW it was standing past 1948.

So, I went to Visalia (had to go anyway to retrieve Momscar with its new starter) and visited the History Room. Library Historian Hunter and I pulled three thick folders from a filing cabinet and started flipping through all sorts of old papers.

Like much in life, the building’s dates are complicated, far too complicated to simply put as “19XX – 19??” on the mural.

Here’s what we learned in two different places, along with Spalding’s book:

It was built around 1926 as a community hall. Then, maybe in 1932, or maybe 1937, “the community, who being unable to meet the indebtedness gladly disposed of it to the school.” One source says it was moved in 1932, another says it was moved in 1937; a third source says it was moved in spring of 1939.

Nowhere have I found the year that the building was demolished. Maybe demolition records aren’t kept, because the demolishers are embarrassed to be part of destroying history, or maybe because it is viewed as a hazard or junk to be gotten rid of, rather than something old and beautiful that has reached the end of its functional life.

So, the painting of the old school auditorium will not have dates, only its title as I recall it: Ivanhoe School Auditorium.

When I was a regular patron of the Ivanhoe library, sometimes we had to go to the main library in Visalia in order to find enough good material to write a term paper or do a report. What is now the children’s library used to be the entire Visalia library, which I found to be stunning and overwhelming. I also thought the building was beautiful, because it is. The architectural style is like the house my dad grew up in, built in 1932. (The house—the library was completed in 1936, so it was clearly the same era.)

P.S. I drew the library in 1989 before the new one got built.

P.P.S. I also stopped by a retail store in Visalia to see a childhood friend from Ivanhoe who told me the school library wasn’t in the bay window but was in a door off the porch. That’s why I added a hint of a door on the otherwise dark and bland front porch. I sure would like to find more photos of the building, both in and out, but those were the days before everyone carried a camera.

* Nope, can’t play clarinet anymore

** Yeppers, I won.

Exploding Head

Not literally. Figuratively. There is a difference in these two terms despite the language butchering (figurative, not literal) that is commonplace.

Using a template to convert a book from Word to InDesign is supposed to be easy. Sure, if everything works. When does that happen??

Converting the InDesign file to a PDF for proofreading is supposed to be easy. Sure, if everything works. When does that happen?

Getting a 1099 form used to mean waiting for the mail. Now you “just log in and download and print”. Supposed to be easy. Sure, if everything works. When does that happen?

“Go digital” to get your Social Security statements—“It’s Fast, Easy, and Secure”. Easy?? Who are you kidding?

“Get 85 Free Prints A Month” from Photo Affections! It’s fast and easy! Sure, except for all the hidden prompts, tiny clever little tools to guess at, and oh, by the way, only one print per image is allowed for free.

My head is about to explode.

Let’s just look at a few photos and try to regain our balance.

The beginning of spring in my yard: flowering quince, daffodils, germander
Morning light on Comb Rocks
Presbyterian Church: you can bet they never put kraft paper over their windows because they have stained glass with local wildflowers.

Now maybe I’ll go try to balance my checkbook with all those Paypal entanglements, debit cards, and oh, oops, I used the wrong account to pay for business expenses, and what was that automatic deduction for? That’s right, the printing 10-key machine makes illegible numbers, so I’ll clean it. Well, oops, now it won’t print. (Felt great to shove it in the trash, so there.)

Never mind. Today I am painting the mural in Ivanhoe, listening to roosters crow, dogs bark, cats yowl, and cars go past. Nothing on the computer, very very peaceful. I’ll show you all about it on Monday.

Red-Neck Ramblings

I could be oil painting but seem to want to pull weeds, write blog posts, text with a friend about a difficult situation, make yogurt, and write a few letters.

We have a bit of a situation, but as a wise friend has said, “When you have a problem and you have money to fix it, you don’t have a problem; you have an inconvenience.

Prolly a starter. Maybe a fuse. Not the ignition switch or the battery. Thank goodness for the good pick-em-up truck (2003) AND the Botmobile (1986). Thank goodness for AAA, for upping the towing package 2 years ago, for Valero Bros. in Woodlake, and for Foreign Autoworks’ new owner, Frank.

We have a new pastor at church, someone with lots of energy and ideas. He joined the 50% of the congregation who wanted to remove the kraft paper from the front windows and asked a pair of fearless monkey-dudes to help. See if this doesn’t cause your guts to squeeze a bit. . .

Okay, done rambling. Gonna paint now.