The Rest of the Story

After I had played Cindy Sherman for a while, I move my energy to the front yard. I usually keep the outside decorations to a bare minimum but that might be because it's usually cold outside this time of year...and usually I don't eat quite that much candy. I put out lights and spiders and that sort of thing. I sent Dan a text that read, "I'm not sure we own enough extension cords for the project I'm working on." That sure made him nervous even though I was mostly kidding. When he came home he gave me a wrapped present...and mermaid witch. I love it. He's so very sweet.

After the children's parade at the school and some more candy, we went over to the old folks home to bring plastic spider rings and treats. That's a picture of Daisy who loves us. My grandpa teared up. overflowing with love and held my hand for a long time. My mom went over about an hour later and asked if we had visited and he said "no." He didn't remember but he was wearing his super cool spider ring.

The party on our street was a fantastic end of holiday finale. There was a parade and dancing with people from my hood, from my past and present, people I care about, and...

prizes!!! Here's where it gets good and I got a little over excited. First my little kitten won the award for the 'prettiest' and that would have been enough but--I can see glitter sparkles even while I write this--I won the award for 'prettiest grown-up'. Sigh...can it get any better than that? Maybe I should think about entering more contests where I get to wear costumes!

I don't think I've ever eaten this much candy in one day before, not even at a slumber party. I thought it would be a good idea to take the Halloween decorations down tonight so that I could paint all day tomorrow but I finally passed out with my certificate of beauty in one hand and candy in the other.

The End

It's been a beautiful, happy day. Happy Halloween. I'm throwing the rest of the candy out tomorrow and detoxing until this time next year.

What Mom's do while their kids are at school on Halloween Day

Hmmm...I'm just too excited to paint. This IS my very favorite holiday. Hmmm... look at all these costumes laying about. Maybe I should just try this one on.

Wonder Woman in the kitchen. Nice idea. Obviously I need the invisible jet because jumping up and down is not helping me to fly. Duh.

I purchased this costume this year in the kids section at Target. It's nice to diminutive sometimes. It matches my littlest kitten's costume.

It's a good one to dance in.

Then I tried on some wigs.

There is a reason I keep my hair short.

I have lots of these outfits from Little India in Vancouver. Those Indian women were so beautiful.

I tried some dramatic poses.

Oh my...did I just eat the whole bag?

Witch

And of course my favorite, the witch. It feels like wearing my own skin.....

"Oh kids hurry and come home!"

I'll just have to play with this remote controlled rat for a while.

The classic witch is portrayed as an, ugly, googly eyed, pointy chinned, old woman who is hideously scary. She is jealous and spiteful and deceitful. She demands obedience and she will stop at nothing for revenge. She is feared by all, even those closest to her.
The classic witch is one stereotypical image, but in the history of witches there are actually many types, and not all of them are evil. Some were rotten to the core but there were some who were interested in lightening the hardships of those around them. These are called the wise women and are considered to be at the opposite end of the spectrum from the classic witch. The wise woman starts along the same path as the classic witch, but her innate sweet nature and desire to heal mean that she uses her powers and abilities to help and cure and bless the local folk as much as possible. Sometimes of these witches historically were considered healers or even early doctors.
In an earlier entry about identity, I wrote that my heritage. My roots came from two sources; Latter-day Saint Pioneers and Witches. I’m very proud of all of that. I seriously think that being part witch should have given me some sort of scholarship. I was discussing this with my Aunt Lorelie the other evening when she told me again the stories that I always love to hear. Our witch stories.
My grandfather was a young boy in the early 1900’s. He remembers quietly watching as chairs floated in the air and musical instruments played by themselves, among other things. There are stories about a few spirits, their voices and personalities, who would visit my great aunts and great grandmother. There are even a few scary stories about those visiting spirits and one that scared me as a child about a black dog and…too scary to even talk about it.
Mostly though, as the stories go, these witches used their powers for good. People would come to them with problems and questions. For instance, asking the witches to find missing objects or for advice on relationships.
From every story that has been passed down in my family from not too long ago, my witches were wise women.
Every Halloween I dress up as a witch and I wonder if my aunts and great grandmother are watching over me from somewhere else, smiling and proud that I‘m thinking of them. I’m not, however, going to try to summon their spirits or anything. I’m pretty busy right now and I have enough hobbies. Instead I’ll just try to remember to try and lighten the hardships of those in need so that my great granddaughters can tell stories about me.
Happy Halloween.

An artist is a creature driven by demons – he usually doesn't know why they chose him and he's usually too busy to wonder why. William Faulkner

Demons I tell you. I can hardly pull myself away from the studio. I'm restless... there is just so much I want to do.

A Moon Phase

This last week I started two paintings that I'm pretty excited about. I've combined two ideas that were both on my mind, the moon and tears. I wanted to paint about sugar tears, tears from a heart that overflows. It was pointed out to me that for a long time I've thought that showing emotion was a weakness. I was wrong. Even happy girls cry.
The second painting is about Diana the moon goddess. There is a story about a hunter who was watching her bathe in the woods. She believed that no man should see her naked because her body was sacred so... she didn't like that and she turned him into a stag. I like this story as a metaphor about her being exposed.

We're the kids of the future...

There are those moments pulled out of time when a mom sees her child not as an extension of herself but as an individual. I had one of those moments this weekend. My middle kitten is so different from my other two, and very strong about who she is and how she represents herself. It'd be easier if she was a bit more flexible. Flexible is a nice quality that I see in other people's children. Sigh.... mine are strong and willful and in the end I want them to posses that very thing of course.
In a sea of Hannah Montana fans, one girl stood out, and she was mine and I was so proud. No bling or glitter or puffy hairdos. No pretending to be a pocket version of her mom...just her, real and beautiful. I suppose I stood out a bit in that crowd as well. The crowd of moms and daughters left me amazed with wonder. I'm not going to say more for fear of being offensive but...wow.

Best concert quotes: from teen daughter and friend:

"Did you hear Nick sing that song to me....sigh"
"Remember a minute ago when Nick and I were in the same room...sigh."
My personal favorite...
"I can practically smell Nick on this concert shirt"

The Jo Bros way out did Miley far as our crowd was concerned. It ws a super fun night and I lived only because of a little gift from a security guard we happened to know...(see below). I'd probably be in the hospital right now do to damage from little girl high pitched screams that reached decibels that could be heard in outer space. Amazing.

The Harvest

Last night, while my family harvested grapes, our across the street neighbor came by. She told us how happy she was to see this "Norman Rockwell" scene going on and then she said something that was interesting. She said, "these grapes represent your family to me." The more I thought about it, the more appropriate and sweet her observation seemed.
My dad was in charge of the garden and as kids we helped him. He planted, nurtured and loved those grape vines. We also helped my mom who canned the grape juice every year following the first freeze. There is nothing that is more autumn to me than the smell steaming grapes. Now we, their kids, along with our families were in the garden, carrying on, together, reaping the harvest. The grape juice reminds me of Sunday dinners. It's sweet and rich and tastes even better because we bottled it ourselves.
And that, to me, is how symbols are created. Now when I want to represent my family in an artwork, those vines might be just the thing. Through the years those vines have become strong, intertwined and heavy with fruit. Perfect.

Families who pick together stick together...or get really sticky?