Deck the halls with singing doggies,
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Tis the season to be froggy,
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Tis the time to set up the tree
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And Dummy, his old friends he can see
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In poinsettias I take pleasure
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Dummy thinks they’re a real treasure,
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Fast away the old year passes,
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Thanks for reading my blog, ye lads and lasses,
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Since this blog is supposed to about art
Art art art art art art art art art
Here’s a mini duck I painted for th’art
Quack quack quack quack quack….
It’s been a bit since I wrote a new post. It was mostly just laziness but I have a variety of excuses as well. Pick which ever one suits your frame of mind..
Excuse #1 …
I was watching my neighbor burn down his yard..
Yes the same neighbor who yells at me for watering even though I have rain barrels and an overflowing well. Yes the same one who thinks I gave his yard crabgrass even though I have none. The same guy who hates my maple tree and wants me to cut it down even though it has nothing wrong with it and it’s a pretty tree…and so on and so on….
What happened was that not realizing that I was home, he started to blow all his leaves into my yard so I casually took the dogs out.
And he blew them all back.
He made a 20 foot long pile in his yard, about 2 feet high. Since he couldn’t foist them off on me, he decided to mulch them with his riding lawn mower…
Well the pile was too high, the leaves ended up caught in his engine and
FIRE ! FIRE! FIRE!
He kept driving then did a double take (which I’ve never seen anyone outside the movies do before)
Then he was dancin’ and singin’ and movin’ to the groovin’ (Sorry, sorry had a moment of Funky Grooviness there, it won’t happen again)
But he was dancing and grooving and jumping up and down flailing his arms and he kept kicking the leaves all over and they kept burning farther and faster and further and faster as well.
I opted to watch from my living room and not let him know that I knew that he set his yard on fire. I’m nice like that. Plus I may possibly have been hysterically laughing… ahem..
Anyway at least his crab grass is gone. Who knew it was that flammable.
Excuse #2…
I was helping Sampson put together a performance piece. It involved putting my garden to bed for the winter and cleaning up leaves (while not setting the yard on fire, I mean he did want to juggle some flaming torches but I nixed that one much to his disappointment). Sampson’s art du jour was a mind numbing display of pumpkin abuse..
At this point your children should leave the room, it may be too much for them.
SQUISH!! SQUISH!!! SQUISH!!!!
That’s downright disturbing. Pumpkin abuse is wrong, people!!
But see, there isn’t any crabgrass.
Excuse #3…
Speaking of dogs, I was also trying in vain to get a nice dignified photo of Zeus.
I often see beautifully dignified labs in magazines. So I was determined to get one.
I swear they must drug those dogs in the magazines.
Don’t stick your tongue at me..rude I tell you…
Aw..Gee..I’m sorry…
Oh that’s okay.
We’ll try again.
No! Not dignified! Not dignified!
My attempts to take a dignified photo of Zeus are on temporary hiatus since he decided to introduce himself to a nest of yellow jackets and he’s allergic. He’s fine, sillier looking then normal but fine. *Sigh*
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I have actually done a couple little paintings. These are rough copies of some Christmas cards ideas.
Could you imagine if someone actually gave you a partridge in a pear tree? I would be miffed myself.
The second is in the style of Van Gogh, and is a snowman.. (I was pretty sure you can tell it’s a snowman but judging by the amount of weird Russian spam I get on this blog, I’d like to make myself clear. It’s a snowman and no I don’t want any mukluks.)
If you notice there is a bend in the corner. Sampson chewed on it for a bit.
He’s still a bit mad about not being allowed to juggle flaming torches.
My little ball of fluff with the big blue eyes passed away Saturday at the age of 23. She died in my son’s arms with Sampson by her side.
Minou was six pounds of dignity, disdain, fury and frivolity. She was so small and yet she meant so much.
Thank you Minou.
Thank you for the years of love and loyalty.
Thank you for waking me up every day. I now have to learn how to use an alarm clock.
Thank you for teaching every dog you met how to respect a cat. When we brought home a 150 pound mammoth of a dog from the SPCA, in less than a minute you taught him to never chase cats again. And he never did. He chased dogs. So that was helpful.
Thank you for your War on Earwigs. It started way back in ’89 and not once was it funded by taxpayer money. You fought well, you fought hard and you never gave up. Generations from now, tales of the Fury with the ice blue eyes will haunt the dreams of earwigs everywhere.
Thank you for eating my brown couch. You were right. It was ugly, it was old and yes, I do keep things for too long.
Thank you for making senility look fun. In the last year, I didn’t scold you for sitting on the dining room table because I knew that in your heart, you sincerely believed that you were sitting on the couch.
Thank you for biting every vet you met. Especially the arrogant young one in Colorado who insisted that it was easy to give a cat a pill. He tried for an hour and he still bears the scars today. He lost his arrogance and gained a much needed respect for small animals. Good girl.
Thank you for sitting with Max that noble dog as he lay dying, you licked his muzzle and you cried. Thank you for taking every puppy and kitten we brought in to your side. You trained them well, scolded them and babied them. And now they cry for you.
Thank you for sitting in my lap, purring and offering comfort when my child was sick, when my husband was at war, when my Dad passed away. I don’t tend to let people know when my heart is breaking. I’m silly, I make smart ass comments, I carry on. But you always knew. You were always there. Throughout the times of joy and the times of deepest sorrow. You were there. A little brown and black ball of fluff with big blue eyes purring and yowling and fussing.
Now the house is quiet and you lie under the purple mums by the forest’s edge.
the purple dog painting blog 