Cupcake

Cupcake

I painted this for my Grandaughters new bedroom. It is acrylic on 20x16 gallery

wrapped canvas. She liked it.......

A Little French Bird.....

" A Flight of Fancy"   Create a Wire and paper Bird on a perch.  Oh, so French!

Create a little  Song Bird as an ornament or to hang in your home to encourage your own flights of fancy.

With this method, you can create a bird of any size.  In this class you will make a small bird on a wire perch.  
The class is separated into two sessions and contains more than 100 photos of the step by step process.

Join Niada artist, Marilyn Radzat to create a whimsical  "Flight of Fancy".
2 sessions  $35.  Click here for more information:  http://aforartistic2.homestead.com/fligth-of-fancy.html

 

Wide Eyed

Wide Eyed

This little bag of bones is just standing there waiting for his next treat and by golly he

deserves it. He has been a very good boy.

4x4 oil on canvas panel

 

Holiday Wrap-Up 2012

By the light of the tree

Ah, Christmas. It was a beautiful whirlwind of food, loud family gatherings, quiet moments lit only by the tiny white lights of our tree, giving, receiving and downtime. The time span is the same each year, but I can never believe how fast the season goes by. The parties will spill into January with New Year’s Eve celebrations and post-holiday gatherings, but all the hype and sparkles of the season have begun to fade.

We did get a white Christmas here in Connecticut and the snow has continued. Today the sun is shining on a beautiful blanket of white, so it finally feels like legitimate wintertime. Sammy Dog has already managed to slice her foot open on some ice – an annual sacrifice to the season’s new terrain.

This year felt somewhat surreal to me – just a little off. Maybe it was the milder than usual weather leading up to Christmas. Maybe it was the tragedies of the Newtown Elementary School shootings and the tangible sadness felt for those beautiful families. Maybe it was because we rekindled some old traditions and tried to start some new ones, which can bring on a slew of emotions. Maybe it was because I was suffering painful and nauseating constipation from my treatment or that my back and hip pain is again severe. Maybe it was because I continually find myself dumbfounded to have been here for it: my fourth Christmas with cancer. Not sure what that means. I took it all in in a very quiet way, sitting back and observing and appreciating.

My brother-in-law and nephew incognito

I feel so humbled by the reality that I’m still going strong: hosted the annual Diamond Holiday Bash with Craig – complete with our neighbor’s band and sing-along this year; shopped (online or local small shops only – you think this immuno-compromised girl would go out with the crazies?) for and wrapped all the gifts; enjoyed time in New Jersey for Chanukah with some of Craig’s family, then at the last minute rallied to host the other half at our home for a Christmas celebration when his cousin’s kiddos got sick. I opened many generous gifts from “Santa” presented under my parent’s Christmas tree, and celebrated with my uncles and aunt at their beautiful home where we enjoyed a glorious Christmas food spread.

I posed by the very lion and on the very same white porch steps that I used to as a kid with my Nonna and late Peppe at the historic Red Lion Inn in Stockbridge, Mass. We hadn’t been back since Peppe passed five years ago, but this year our table was full with our new 8-person crew of my parents, my brother and his wife, sister and her boyfriend, and Craig and me.

We missed Craig’s mother and his father, both of our grandfathers, my grandmother, and the friends that we have lost along the way. But, the energy and innocence of my hardly-a-baby-anymore niece and toddler nephew is enough to illuminate the whole room and remind us of the cycle of life, turning sorrow into celebration as we get the honor of watching these two little personalities blossom.

Sammy loves ripping through dried grasses.

It also made me so happy to see my brother and my sister so obviously in love and comfortable with their partners. This is the first time it has been like that for all of us siblings, all at once. It’s exciting to have the family growing again. Having our original family of five expand to eight as we squeezed into my parents living room opening presents with Sammy Dog and Puppy Brodie running amuck around us was one of my favorite gifts of all.

Another favorite moment was Craig and me deciding to have our first Christmas Eve with just our little family. We took Sammy for a long winter walk at her favorite nature preserve. Came back home for a big nap then headed out for an intimate dinner. We didn’t have a plan – which is very unlike us – and after stops at five restaurants, realized that not everyone opens on Christmas Eve, and that if they do, without a reservation, you’re out of luck. We ended up at the kitschyest, super family friendly restaurant in town. It was literally the last option and even it was only open for another half an hour. We walked in just as they were taking down the “open” flag. There were only a couple other families finishing their meals and we sat beside the huge tropical fish tank and marveled at all the knick-knack, paddywacks covering every square inch of the place from mini Jerry Garcias and Elvises to framed historic newspapers and creepy dolls galore. Our table held a barrel of monkeys and an 8-ball to play with.

Not a square undecorated

At first I was a little bit pissy about not having the ambiance and meal we had been looking for for this “special” night, blaming myself (well, blaming Craig mostly) for not thinking this through. Then, we just started laughing and realized that those are actually the best kind of moments – the unexpected ones where you find yourself eating dinner off a vinyl placemat in the shape of Santa’s face seated below a toy train track suspended overhead with Christmas stockings hanging off the rails. We’re not fancy – flattened baked stuffed shrimp with ketchup and steak fries did us just fine. Our plans to watch Elf when we got home faded as well when we both fell asleep on the couch 30 minutes into the movie, Sammy snuggled between us, three bugs in a rug. Happy and content. Tired and at peace. 

Red Lion Inn dinner

The Day After

The Day After

Still enjoying the aftermath of Christmas. Hope everyones day is good.

Have A Oinking Merry Christmas

Have A Oinking Merry Christmas

I hope you Christmas is wonderful and I don't say Merry Xmas, Happy Holidays is ok

but to me it is still a wonderful Merry Christmas.

A cute little pig on 4x4 canvas panel. Oil

For sale or auction at my DPW gallery just follow the link to purchase via PayPal.

Holiday Wishes

Sending you all warm wishes of love, peace and laughs this holiday season. I hope that your days have been filled with family, friends, cookies and naps. That's what's been keeping me busy lately. I'll be back to a regular blogging schedule starting Friday.

Have a very Merry Christmas! Or, if it's another holiday you celebrate, I hope it's fantastically joyous as well.

Lots of love.

I Want Toys

I Want Toys

4x4 oil on canvas panel.

My Santa Hat

My Santa Hat

A little dog just waiting for Santa.

4x4 oil on canvas panel.

Waiting For The Big Man

 

Waiting For The Big Man

And the Santa's continue. Still having fun....hope you are.

4x4 oil on canvas panel

Moustache

 

Moustache

Another weird Santa. I am really enjoying spreading the thick paint kinda like

icing Christmas cookies. Have a great day.

4x4 oil on canvas panel.

Misfit Santa

 

Misfit Santa

Ok I am on a roll with different crazy Santa's.  Look for another tomorrow.

Merry Christmas season. Hope you are having fun. I sure am.

4x4 oil on canvas panel

He Sees You When Your Sleeping

He Sees You When Your Sleeping

4x4 oil on canvas panel

 

I haven't written very much lately so much is going on with my life. Everything

seems to be going so fast it is unbelievable. My oldest daughter is retiring from the Marine Corp

and is moving here. Hooray! Like that isn't awesome enough...My youngest daughter called last week and told me that she is moving here also. Unbelievable. My prayers are being answered one by one. I am so blessed.

Jolly Old Saint NIck

Jolly Old Saint Nick

I paint at least one Santa each year and this is the one for 2012.

Oil on canvas panel

This has a lot of texture.Painted with brushes and finished with a palette knife.

Reflections on Tragedy

Photo credit: newsnet5.com

Every parent and every educator, everyone who works with children in any capacity, is no doubt projecting the unfathomable tragedy of Newtown’s Sandy Hook Elementary School shootings into their own lives, deeply aching for those reeling from their losses or the devastation they witnessed.

But the reverberation of sympathy doesn’t stop there. There are also those – like me – who are not yet a parent or don’t work with kids on a daily basis, but are still marred by this tragedy, our hearts saddened for the suffering of others. Though we don’t share the same circumstance, we are all still human. We can relate and feel each other’s pain. It is a natural reaction to want to dissipate it, to spread the hurt among us hoping that maybe it’ll make it just a little easier for those central to this horror.

Connecticut is my state. My husband is a teacher. Many of our friends are teachers, one a second grade teacher at Sandy Hook Elementary who survived the shootings and is suffering the loss of her colleagues and so many students. My sister-in-law was good friends with the heroic Vicki Soto who died protecting her students. Another friend studied with and was very close with the special education teacher who was killed. There are many connections to this tragedy that hits very close to home.

Grief and sadness rule at this time when those that are far too young and far too innocent are being buried. What can we do but look at our own lives, our own experiences, to try and move forward in a way that honors all of those that are suffering and respects the memory of those that were lost? It’s a time for necessary reflection and action on personal, national, and global levels.

A big piece of those parents died along with those children, but I believe that a piece of them also will live on within those parents – affecting how they live their lives and the choices that they make in their memory. It’s that whispered guidance of their children that will help them to instill love, beauty and compassion into this world – sentiments far stronger than the hate and fear that this gunman hoped to instill. He will not win.

I am reading a book called Tiny Beautiful Things: Advice on Love and Life from Dear Sugar by Cheryl Strayed. It is a collection of essays written in response to those who wrote in to her anonymous online advice column. One is from a mother who miscarried her baby six months into the pregnancy and is understandably devastated over the loss more than one year later. She is frustrated that those around her think she should “be over it” by now and does not understand how others aren’t feeling the same breadth of her pain. She signs her letter, Stuck.  

What Sugar writes back rings so true to the losses suffered at Sandy Hook Elementary as well. Advice for healing that will come in due time:  

“This is how you get unstuck, Stuck. You reach. Not so you can walk away from the daughter you loved, but so you can live the life that is yours – the one that includes the sad loss of your daughter, but is not arrested by it. The one that eventually leads you to a place in which you not only grieve her, but also feel lucky to have had the privilege of loving her. That place of true healing is a fierce place. It’s a giant place. It’s a place of monstrous beauty and endless dark and glimmering light. And you have to work really, really, really hard to get there, but you can do it.”

The only way for those left behind to survive something like this is when the rawness begins to subside, to adapt rather than crumble – in no way an easy thing to do. The unfortunate reality is that the 27 innocent lives cannot be brought back and the tragedy cannot be erased. As a community, a collective of humans, we need to absorb what happened and adjust our lives around it. To harp on the tragedy and let it define us will do no good. Rather, we need to define what our lives will be in spite of this tragedy. We need to sharpen our focus, reassess our priorities and make an even more concerted effort to love and let ourselves be loved, as that is what makes the world function. Let there be so much kindness that there is no room for hate.

Adapting takes time. The wounds will be raw for weeks, months, years to come, but in time, they will scar and those same wounds will be put toward good. The grief is surmountable. But right now, we all need to give ourselves the time and space needed to grieve and to mourn. We need to be gentle with ourselves and give ourselves whatever we need: space, distractions, sleep, each other.

Then we must move on and we must prove to those children and their teachers that despite such terrible violence, beautiful life continues. This wildly troubled young man did not take away the lives of everyone. Instead, it brought a community closer and turned the globe’s attention in compassion for the families, not vindication for the killer. We must let compassion rule not further the hate.

Sugar goes on to say that those who suggest that this woman (Stuck) should be over her daughter’s death are saying this because they live on Planet Earth, whereas Stuck instead lives on Planet My Baby Died. It is in consoling themselves with the other parents who will now forever live on Planet My Young Child Died, that these grief-stricken families will find some semblance of healing and understanding. The community of Sandy Hook will be able to heal from within as they turn to each other for comfort in a way that those of us who did not experience this loss will never be able to comprehend. They are not on their planet alone. It is a planet that no one wants to be on, but they are on it together.

The power of true connection and understanding without fear of judgment or worrying about the need for a filter is so important. Talking with others in the same circumstance is incredibly valuable to the coping process. I understand this because I too live in another world sometimes: Planet I Am Living With Cancer.

Though no one can fully grasp what those directly affected are feeling, we do have the power to relate, to remember when we, too, were suffering through whatever challenge it may have been and remember what helped us off the ground. Together, we can pick each other up and move forward.

I am in no way equating the turmoil I’ve experienced while going through my cancer battle with the loss these families are feeling, but it is how I can relate it to my life. I can sympathize with what it’s like to sit there devastated and uncomprehending as you are given life-changing news.

What I’ve learned through my own devastations is that eventually, with time, a lot of work, acceptance of support from others, and a lot of self-love, the pieces will come back together again. They won’t always stay aligned. It’s a fluid process. There will be reminders of the suffering – as there should be – which will again tilt the worlds of these families, throwing them off balance at unexpected times. However, even in the darkest of moments there is a light. There is always a ray of hope you can latch onto and pull yourself out with. I promise. Sometimes it’s real tough to see, but it’s there.

There were times during my treatment when I thought I would never recover: laying in bed on my 20^th day of isolation with the flesh of my lips dangling off my face or listening – yet another time – to the news that yet another treatment course had failed. Things happened to my body and my emotions that I never could have anticipated.

But what surprised me the most about surviving those traumas was that they were surmountable. Things do get better. I had to learn to be patient and not to be frustrated with the process. This too will be a process for those suffering from loss or trying to un-see the unthinkable that they witnessed. It is painful, but we are a resilient species.

As bystanders, we need to respect that everyone grieves differently and reacts to tragedy in myriad ways. Rather than judging or pushing away in fear of the intensity of emotion surrounding a situation like this, we must instead lean on each other, listen to each other, and embrace each other with all of the compassion that we can.

Like many, I feel powerless and helpless in the wake of something so huge. However, we have to remind ourselves that we do have some power. We have the capacity to love each other, to make each day count, and to live our own lives with compassion and understanding for everyone. This is the place that peace will grow from – not from more anger, violence, blame, and terror. This is how we can honor those who were lost so tragically. This is how we can carry on the beautiful innocence of those children and the unwavering dedication of those educators no longer with us.

“The human spirit is stronger than anything that can happen to it.” – George C. Scott

Five Golden Rings

Five Golden Rings

Oil on 4x4 canvas panel

Painted for a challenge at

Daily Paintworks Gallery

I Still Believe

I Still Believe

Painted in 2010 but thought I would share with you once again....

I remember when I was a little girl someone told me that there is

no Santa. That Christmas I still got gifts which I didn't deserve. I still felt the

magic in the air and felt the love of my family at Christmas so no matter what

people may say I still Believe.

Santa's Helper

Santa's Helper

I don't know why I love painting these little helpers but I do!

a Yorkie in a santa suit of his own.

How fun....

Just wanted you to see this one again. A cute little santa dog...

7x5 oil on canvas panel

Almost Lavender

 

Almost Lavender

Acrylic on 4x4 canvas panel.

A Flurry of Pink

 

A Flurry of Pink

Acrylic on 4x4 canvas panel.

A Flurry of Flowers

 

A Flurry of Flowers

Acrylic on 4x4 canvas panel.

In A Bucket

 

In a Bucket

4x4 acrylic on canvas panel.

Desperately Seeking Relevance: A Story

A story to share that has nothing at all to do with me or the c-word. It's a piece I wrote for a writing class I am taking that asked us to observe a stranger and surmise about their life. Hope you enjoy:

(c) colourbox

His air of importance contrasts sharply with his obvious lack of clout. This man’s influence departed some years ago. It shows in his hair, snow-white and styled in a forgotten fashion that can only be accomplished with that old-man staple: the miniature plastic comb. The unruly strands that spike at his scalp prove the comb was dunked in water, not hair gel. Product is for girly men.

The thread of his heather grey pants that once held a perfect cuff has surrendered over time, leaving his pant bottoms hanging with the weight of the years.

His morning scent of Listerine and Barbasol is a stark contrast to the spicy, sexy fragrances from the young men surrounding us, fingers scrolling down their iPad screens or flurrying across their Blackberry keyboards. Their slim-cut pea coats make his boxy trench look that much more dated.

Balanced on one knee is his first generation laptop. From my vantage point across the train aisle, I can see that his smudged screen holds a game of solitaire, in which he was struggling to find the Aces.

It’s an early morning New Haven to Manhattan commuter train. Every seat will be taken. He knows this, obviously a seasoned rider versed in the body language required to deter oncoming passengers from taking the open middle seat beside him. His chest inflates to maximize his shoulder width, knees widening and head dipping on cue at the sound of the train doors opening at each stop.

These efforts did nothing to intimidate a seasoned female commuter. She had pursed plum-stained lips, a tweed skirt suit and a no-bullshit bun along with her own broad shoulders to offer. She stood at his aisle’s entrance until the man made a dramatic act of rising and groaning in displeasure, folding his laptop and stepping into the aisle to let her pass.

Despite his reluctance, she never broke her confident stance.  She slid into the seat without giving him the satisfaction of an “Excuse me.” It was a confidence blow, another harsh reminder that his imagined power no longer held any weight.

Disgruntled, it was on to the New York Times. He held the paper open wide, like a dog lifting its leg at a tree, claiming what he considered “his territory.” In that remaining half-hour of the commute, his page never changed — the newsprint merely for show. He was tired from the effort it took to project significance, holding the paper before him like a shield.

His show was a desperate attempt to hide his irrelevance. There’s less room for deceit in today’s fast-paced, social media-obsessed world, facades eliminated and privacy negated. No more binder-clipped paper stacks and metal cabinets to hide behind – it’s all out there in the digital limelight – hyper-competitive youth lurking to swallow the old-school businessman whole and shit him out in micro-chip chunks.

He once reigned from a corner office, puffing cigars and patting the asses of eager secretaries, his success based more on his ability to intimidate than actual ability. He considered collaboration a sign of weakness. Company trimming eliminated the need for such figureheads, technology consigning his red pens and yellow legal pads to the trash. Like the building he left, his personal walls are smoke-stained. The carpets that once gave him footing are now marred with old soda stains, musty and pilled.

Today he’s headed into the city to consult on a project, nothing that required an in-person presence, but he leapt at the chance to assert his flesh. The offer is merely a disguised consolation prize from a former protégé filled with guilt and obligation. He hopes to perk up the former business legend with 20 minutes of bogus fame. Inevitably, everyone around the board room table will have their faces in their Blackberries answering e-mails, nodding quarter-heartedly at his stale ideas – as outdated as his accordion briefcase.

The conductor announced our arrival into Grand Central, the daylight ripped away and replaced by the dark caverns that are the station’s bowels. He stood to gather his belongings, rising high above those of us sharing his train car. There would still be several minutes until the train slowed to a crawl, swapping tracks and settling into its temporary resting place.

He uses this time to pet his ego, making a grand performance of closing his overcoat. The train car is his stage and we are a fixed audience. He turns backward, eyes fixed on the heavily made-up Asian woman seated behind him. His gaze begs her to pay him some attention. Slowly, button-by-button he closes his coat over his suit jacket, fingering each circle with intention.

He then straightens each fold of the collar, aiming for crispness that has long gone limp, the angled fabric blemished with faded coffee stains and crusted cream cheese from on-the-go breakfasts of commutes past. He shimmies the belt through its loops until it is perfectly aligned, slipping the buckle into itself slowly, thoughtfully, as if it were a reverse strip tease. This was his time to shine, but the woman he directed his vibes at never looked up from her Kindle. In fact, no one seemed to take notice despite his pleading grasp for someone to make him feel that he still had something – anything – to offer.

A Flurry of Red

 

A Flurry of Red

Acrylic on 4x4 canvas panel 

Sold

A Flurry of Blue

 

A Flurry of Blue

Yet another acrylic on 4x4 canvas panel

 

Generation WHY

For all young adult cancer survivors out there – and those that love us. 

The Huffington Post has put together a HuffPost Healthy Living series called "Generation WHY." It is putting the spotlight on young adult cancer patients and survivors between the ages of 15 and 39. 

There are tips, resources, patient stories and perspectives gathered in one place to help bring the young adult cancer movement to a mainstream audience. 

Check it out here: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/news/generation-why/

A Flurry of Color

 

A Flurry of Color

I am out of town at my daughters sooooo the practical thing to do is revert

to acrylics. So after not painting with them for a while the next few paintings will be done

in acrylic. 4x4 acrylic on canvas panel

Cherry Polished

Cherry Polished

Oil on 4x4 canvas panel

 

A Friend To Lean On

A Friend To Lean On

4x4 oil on canvas panel

 

Christmas Colors

Christmas Colors

6x6 oil on canvas panel

Beauty And The Beast

Beauty And The Beast

You decide which is which. Is the cherry the beauty or the beast. 4x4 Oil on canvas.

JL

The Vase

The Vase

Oil on 4x4 canvas panel.

The Last One

The Last One

My grandchildren are visiting this week and it is a challenge to paint at all. I did sneak this one in...

4x4 oil on canvas panel.

Pain, Puppy, and Phlegmy Tissues

Annual Christmas tree hunt on the farm. 

The pain got to be very severe, setting in seethingly Thanksgiving Day night and increasing through that weekend. I talked with my Columbia team, and it was decided to put me on a little pop dose of 50mg Prednisone for a couple of days. If the pain responded to the steroid, it was safe to assume that it was being caused by a tumor flare (a good sign). If the pain did not respond to the increased steroid, it may be lymphoma growth (a bad sign).

With one dose, the seething pain in my back and left side completely dissipated. I’ve  been off the 50mg for a week now and the pain has remained gone. It was likely my body once again getting used to the Revlimid ramping things up after being off of it for a week while my rash cleared.

The perfect tree.

I am pain-free and nearly ache-free as well. However, I have the glassy-eyed, manly voice, and piles of full tissues that are tell-tale signs of a full-blown winter cold. I blame my husband who was sick the week prior for passing it along to me – we share everything, cute, huh? It started with a raging sore throat Sunday morning, moved to head fullness and pressure to crazy sneeze attacks and constant nasal dripping and nose blowing. This morning a rumbly chest cough has joined the scene. ‘Tis the season.

Likely it’s some kind of virus that my body needs to ride out. However, because I’ve been through what I’ve been through, we always have to be ultra cautious regarding my compromised immune system. I am still on a 10mg Prednisone course, which lowers my defenses even more. In I went to see good ‘ol Dr. Dailey at Hartford Hospital. I had to get routine bloodwork done anyway and it was a chance to fill him in on how my treatment is going. The cold actually came with good timing as I already had the appointment scheduled. He hooked me up with a z-pack antibiotic that should kick this along with lots of tea, lemon water, and rest.

Yes, that is crusty fried cheese dangling off the burger.

Before that set in, however, Craig and I had a great weekend together. I freakin’ love the holiday season – bring on the cheesiness, the traditions, the hot dips, the carols. Highlights included cutting down our Christmas tree in fat snowflake snow, the perfect one right in front of where we parked the Jeep making our selection hunt duration a record for us; trying the fried cheese cheeseburgers at a famed Connecticut haunt, Shady Glen; ringing in a friend’s new home; and meeting my parents new PUPPY! (Puppies make me write in capital letters, talk like a baby and melt like a marshmallow.)

His name is Brodie. He’s a four-month-old black lab/shepherd mix who they rescued from a local shelter where he landed after traveling from another shelter in West Virginia. I cuddled him and told him that I love him. His fur is super shiny and soft and his eyes are wide and expressive: true “puppy dog eyes.”

Sammy was sniffing me all up and down when we got home from my parents like a wife checking for lipstick stains on her cheating husband’s collar. My mom and I will get them together for a meet-and-greet this week. I’m sure they’ll be best buds after they butt sniff and paw at each other for a bit. Sammy will quickly teach him her wild ways. Maybe Brodie will finally be the one to teach her how to walk on a leash.

Brodie cuddle time!

A BUNCH OF US

A Bunch Of Us

Lately I have been wanting to paint roses. This was once a vase of tulips but with the touch

of a brush wah lah today we are roses   Touched By The Light.....

20x16 oil on gallery wrapped canvas

Yellow Fellows

Yellow Fellows

These flowers just caught my eye so to speak. I just had to paint them.

Also there is just something about jars that captivate me. I look loser and do what I do...

These are named Yellow Fellows just because I could not think of anything else after two full

days with my grandchildren I am a little frazzled.

Oil on 4x4 canvas panel

Some Blue

Some Blue

I know that this is a little jumbled but I have been experimenting with different

techniques. This is oil on 4x4 canvas panel.