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| All The CrayonsThe number of my brain cells killed due to cleaning fumes is directly proportional to the number of spots I cleaned out of the carpet. Still looks old and torn, but it's clean and it works. Painting remains to be done on the house and several other repair jobs are still slated, but the photo editor doesn't have fumes so it is my go to toy right now.
This summer has a visual focus and it is satisfying to be able do something that creates a change in the original. Certainly, completing my humdrum chores is not going to produce any significant change. Such are the dubious benefits of home ownership.
But the toys are my new crayons and my tendency to use all of them has not faded since the days when I tried to eat them. (Evidence below.)
Portrait #3
Becoming tired of using images of myself, I went to the FB and took screen shots of friends. I thought of giving these people the portraits I've made and will make, but it might come off too weird. Receiving an edited picture of yourself could be construed in all kinds of negative ways that are far more interesting than the truth. The pictures are starting points for exploration, like canvas, and not the stuff of stalkietown.
The photo above is of a male friend who would not think my playing with it in the editor was any more weird than anything else he's known me to do. Still, I doubt he would recognize himself. The two below are of me and share very little resemblance to the original. The original is tired and torn but she's clean and she works well.
 Portrait #2
Portrait #1
Not everything I have been making is so abstract, but the abstract ones are safer to post. Can you imagine coming to a blog and seeing a photo of yourself all edited and alien looking? It would make me feel odd.
Oh yeah, I made a vid on the fly for the fourth of July:
 My apologies to anyone who has seen this stuff before as all but the first photo here has been posted elsewhere. Have a good week please.
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| The Fourth MusketeerA week has not passed since his three neighbor friends moved away. Each day they have been gone, his knocks at my back door have startled me more. They call out to remind me what it is like to be lonely. Going outside in daylight means he will run up to me with hopeful eyes, but when I ask him what he wants or needs, he says, "nothing" and deflates.
A couple of days ago, his drooped shoulders sent me to the front closet where old hand held electronic sporting games gathered dust. They'd been Christmas presents for my ex husband because nobody knew what to get him, and since I did not know what to do for Michael, I gave them to him. I thought he would be excited and while we figured out how to change the batteries he was. The next day he was glum again and when asked about the games he lied and said he finished them. If his friends were around, he would be holding one and Jacob would be begging him for a turn.
This afternoon when loading my bike for a ride I did not see him, but I heard a murmur like a blind puppy looking for its mother. He was curled up in the favored lawn chair crying. All four used to compete for that chair and the tire swing and the attention of any safe person happening by. I asked him if he'd gotten in trouble and he buried his face after shaking his head, "no."
Not having children of my own I often miscalculate what interests them which is why I gathered all the magazine subscriptions going to waste out of school and brought them to the makeshift table we had left out for play after the mural was complete. "Do you want these?" I called over to a lawn chair with two little feet protruding from its edge. It took a while, but he stood up. He looked over the magazines and took all of the Sports Illustrateds right away. He picked up Fortune, Wired and Black Enterprize and looked at me like I was clueless.
I know so well what loneliness is made of having chosen it in preference to lying or holding my tongue but his condition was not a result of his doing. I remember what it was like to have life change in the time it took to back out of the driveway for college. But I knew I would see my friends again someday. Michael's friends went to live with their father who loves them, but only had enough money to visit them a few times during their eighteen months stay. He won't likely have much left to come back after taking care of his three children. Today Michael realized what all the neighbors have been soft peddling: he might never see them again.
No magazines were going to perk him up. His arms were as limp as their pages. I wandered around the inside of my shed looking for something, anything that would distract his mind. I picked up boards and moved lawn equipment and deflated a little myself. I miss them too but I am lucky enough to have Michael to distract me. I found the bucket of markers and papers I'd given the kids to sketch out what they wanted to paint on the mural last week. All of their art work was stuffed inside and when I brought it to Michael he began to pick through the drawings identifying who'd made each one. And with each identification his smile grew wider and his arms more wiry.
I left him with more paper and a beach chair to sit at the low table and told him I wanted to see his drawings tomorrow. Not looking up from his digging through the sketches of his friends' imaginations, he nodded and waved me off for a while. I fully expect to be called to his art showing tomorrow. Lonely eight-year olds do not forget promises of any kind.
 It isn't quiet here without those three children. A truck comes daily to drop off more things that will eventually morph the half acre yard into a garden that will supply food for people who buy shares and for people who need it. It is exciting to see and heartening to know that all of those coming by on the truck have made friends with Michael. I know he will be working in that garden often and that eventually a new feeling will take hold of the whole place, but right now, even with the sounds of good things happening, it is less here. Less whimsical, less ornery and less sweet.
(This is the first bed they planted.)
I have neglected to post Fillup's most recent video here until now. Michael and our three neighbor friends are in it. I filmed it the day before they left. They speak about the serious issues of the day and how to solve the world's problems. DayDay is also in it and while he is not ever present, he lives only around a corner. He will not replace Leigha, Matthew and Jacob, but the boy has a sparkle and spirit that I hope to see around here more often.
It's been a rainy and cold summer week. I hope your weekends are lovely.
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| Muralistic There were two little ones who were not permitted to paint the fence and they were very bummed out about that. Jacob is the youngest and while I am told he is a bit of a hellion sometimes, he was very convincing with his pleas to paint something, anything.
I had several cans of paint collected for never done art projects as well as left over house paint. I also had a side of my shed that didn't face anything but Jacob's back yard. So yeah, it became kind of a no-brainer.
 As much as I wanted to let all of the kids paint, when I came outside in the morning there was kid trash everywhere. So I told e crew that if they helped pick up all of the garbage, hey could paint. Only Jacob decided it was worth the effort.
I made him the job boss and took orders about where to sketch in certain things so he could paint them later. As I was hoping, Jacob finally asked if he could let the other kids paint. "That is your call, Boss." I told him and he was very happy. Which meant that a dance break was required (one of many).
Supplies! I have been picking mulberries from the trail during each ride this week and they became the snack for painting. As might be expected, since the white ones looked a little like grubs or something gross, they were eaten first. A little note about these particular kids. They have been staying next door with their aunt because they were removed from their mother's care. Their aunt is not rich. Nobody around here is. They haven't felt the recession because they never have been spoiled and every little thing I gave to them or let them used was treated like some huge score including free picked mulberries.
Enough talk! Here is the completed mural and some of the details:
Those airplanes are headed straight for the sun! And one of them is skin colored! Mr. Orange Pants is my favorite. And of course fireworks had to be included.
Jacob asked me to paint over the first picture because he didn't like it that the older boys had painted a bird pooping on someone. His aunt told him that the white spots could be eggs and the person could be gathering them. He wasn't buying it. "Eggs don't lay in the sky," he explained sweetly. We agreed to keep it because as long as it was pretend it could be funny. The middle shows a marker sketch peeking out from behind the tree. I like his hat. And the last one started off a stick figure but we filled it in and Jacob wanted to make it be Michael Jackson so he painted a guitar. We told him we'd never seen MJ with a guitar but so be it.
 
The very first thing painted on the background was the tire swing. Jacob painted himself and his sister on it since they always had to wait longest to play with it.The last photo doesn't include Jacob but Leigha, Matthew, Day Day (the self-painter) and Michael (he will be staying next door and is the expressive lad to the right.)My sister Julie painted a sun/moon face for me a long time ago and I had it hung in the shed. The little snoops spotted it and thought it would look good in the middle of their painted sun. I agreed.
  And I could not help playing with some of the photos I took. The sun got cropped and hypnotized. Maybe that is why it was raining this morning. The three leave today at 2PM or so the eldest told me. I haven't seen them and their van is gone. Darnit! I have photos printed out for them and some snacks for the road. I hope I didn't miss them!The video of the days events is posted at Vimeo. I tried to upload it here but wouldn't work. Darnit again. Happy Sunday to you!
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| Coming Soon!I tried this morning and again just now and I cannot upload any pictures or videos in Xanga. Which is a shame because the mural the kids painted on my backyard shed is poppin'.
I was able to up load the video else where: Eggs Don't Lay In The Sky.
They took many dance breaks throughout the day and moved to whatever song was playing on the radio. However, they expressed interest in MJ so I decided to use a mashup with The Jackson 5 and Guns n' Roses as the soundtrack.
As soon as I am able I will post some photos here of their work. Maybe after mowing I will have some luck with it.
Happy Saturday to you!
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| In Fencing They Wear White
I negotiated with the local child labor to get my fence painted in record time and on the cheap. We ended up agreeing to 5$ per 8 foot section and pizza (with pepperoni and optional bacon bits), frozen treats of some sort and a case of soda pop. It went very well. These kids are about 5 years younger than the last fellows I hired and they worked much harder, and still had energy to run around at the park after finishing the job.
 As it turns out, my job foremen, ages 11 and 8, were underwhelmed with this lad's performance and cut him loose to hire 2 other young men from the neighborhood to help finish the job. The new fellows did end up covered but only in speckles (along with my trash can, the neighbor's garage siding and pretty much all the lawn, plants and gravels ... and driveway and well, everything else too).
I tried to tell them he'd promised not to paint himself again and we shook on it, but they were nonplussed. He had a lot of energy and was a very nice young man though.
  These were the job foremen. The very serious one is going to be getting the paint buckets. He's moving soon and he might be able to pick up more work later this summer. He is posing like a businessman in front of the unsightly unpainted fence. I am going to make him a flyer with this and the finished product side by side. Not only are they compact, but this one comes with a strong work ethic and no drama. That's what happens when you are all old and 11. (And have two younger siblings hanging from you ... at times literally.)
  I like to call the first photo's pose The Travoltan. I have a few of these as it seemed the default pose for fence painters. A few others stepped up to help us with lunch. Very kind of them. Also, I paid the little girl 5 cents per nail she picked out of my driveway gravel. She is now a very rich woman. She needs to be. Two days ago she found out how babies are born and has since decided she got the short end of the gender stick. "I don't want to be a girl!" I would have told her that she didn't need to have babies but in a few years she'll just feel the same way and I didn't want to explain who Aunt Flo was.
Here we have a possible workman's comp claim but as far as I can tell, he did not paint anything. And next is either a close up of a well painted fence or a rare skin disorder. (This was after a few scrubbings under the hose of course.)
I was too covered in paint myself to pull the camera out today to snap the whole finished product but this shot from my phone gives a good idea of the size of the job. I changed every broken picket and they painted them too. It looks great. I totally scored.
Oh, and I had to include this super sort video of one helper. He was not permitted to paint by all accounts but he was permitted to choose the radio station and help clean up. And dance. He did an excellent job at that. He would be a rich man but I found all of his loot in the grass and suspect he may use the lawn as his wallet. I returned it to him and he dropped half of it on the ground putting it into his back pocket. And he did not notice. Repeat this series of events at least three times. He has an amazing smile and some smooth moves though.
It's too short but it is all I have. I am making him a DVD of it so I needed to put many cool effects to give him some street cred and all.
I am beat and burnt. Also, I still need to make gates and am considering the merits of, you know, not having gates. And then there is the beach. I will be mulling over these things in depth as I sleep in tomorrow. My foreman had me up early everyday. They were sly. As if to mock our agreement of 9:30am they decided to schedule their hoot owl impression convention an hour earlier and to direct their voices at my bedroom window. Yes, shrewd and sly. And really awesome workers too.
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