Fur In The Paint

Last week upon returning from the art fair I popped out the next day to restock the house with sustenance. Still exhausted from a weekend of hard manual labor and sweltering heat and humidity, I was much too tired in the morning to cook my usual breakfast of a veggie hash with fat free ham and fruit. So I settle for a bread roll . . . plain, and prepare for a day of shopping. (Note: not a good diabetic breakfast, at all.)

About 4 o’clock I’m feelin’ a bit peckish (because all I’ve had is that roll for the past 8 hours) and so I head over to a common fast food stop. Since this is derogatory post, I won’t mention it by name. Let’s just call it Kenlucky Freed Chuckwagon, or KFC for short. (I could totally write code for the government.)

Now I should say that I am primarily a diet controlled diabetic, meaning that I don’t take insulin and so therefor I don’t have to worry about coma or anything from my low blood sugar. The worst thing that will happen if I starve for a day is that I’ll get cranky. Occasionally really, really cranky. (Yeah I know, surprising huh? I bet ya’ll thought I’m all unicorns and rainbows all the time.)

So I order and sit down and wait. I tend to be a very patient person in general. But in this instance perhaps I should have acted just a little more quickly. It took me until somewhere around the 12th customer who came after me and got fed, before I get up. By now I’m feelin’s some serious cranky come’n on.

Me: Goes to counter which takes a minute or so to get a cashier because some off-duty workers come in and are chatting with those on duty. I make eye contact with one and say, “So where’s my food?”

KFC: Huh?

Me: “I’ve been waiting for a long time and about a dozen people have gotten their food. What’s the hold up?”

KFC “Uh,” Turns to kitchen “Where’s this lady’s order?” Mumbling and a lot of shrugging occurs.

Me: “It’s been like 15 minutes” Crankier and crankier.

KFC: “We need to see your receipt.”

Me: Presents receipt with a bit more of a dramatic flourish than was necessarily warranted. All the while wondering to self if they are aware of the beast in me emerging like a Werewolf in a full moon.

KFC: Looks through computer log in state of confusion. Chaos ensues for an additional minute or two.

Me: Seeing that no one is planning on just filling my order, but rather are intent on figuring out the mystery of it all. I say “Just give me my money back.” Said really low in a threatening growl. (The rabid wolf is just barely restrained from lunging over the counter.) At this point I realize my attitude is is exceeding the severity of the situation. But for some reason I can’t quite rein it in.

KFC: cashier disappears into kitchen and fails to return. (Perhaps to find some silver bullets) A minute later another server appears and begins to refund my money.

Me: “I did get my soda so just refund the other stuff” By now I’m feelin’ incredibly stabby because nobody has once offered an apology for the problem. I didn’t need them on their knees begging, just a polite statement saying they regret my inconvenience.

KFC: Avoids eye contact (which is probably for the best because I am shooting him daggers with my eyes) Hands me my money and promptly dashes away without a single word uttered at all. Customer appears to my right.

Them: “Um . . . we didn’t order this.” Looks sideways at me and offers a small smile. Yup my long lost lunch. They stuck it in with someone else’s.

KFC: Takes tray from customer and holds it out in my general direction like “Here you go. Whew crisis diverted.”

ME: Looking incredulous.

KFC: Seeing that I am apparently not grasping the simplicity of her body language says. “Do you want this?”

Me: I remain verbally silent But look at her like “Seriously? It’s been setting out for over 15 minutes and someone else has handled it. are you dim or something” All the while my mind was pondering the various ways I could commit murder with the plastic cutlery at hand. Eventually I settle on the spork as my weapon of choice. (Oh yeah, I’m a great multi-tasker.)

KFC: “Well What should I do with this?”

Me: (I know right? What an invitation) Proof that I hadn’t completely shifted over into kill mode meant that I just turned around and walked out silently, while she still held the tray in my general direction.

The Happy Ending
I then go to Hardees. A place I pretty much never eat. The cashier guy was incredibly friendly and helpful. So much so I was wondering if he was hitting on me, or perhaps he’s just skilled with rangling Werewolves. At his suggestion I tried their hand-breaded chicken strips with beer battered onions rings . . . and it was heavenly.

I noticed when I first took my food I was a little shaky. More so I think from my barely averted spork killing spree than low blood sugar. But upon leaving Hardees I was almost back to being all unicorns and rainbows.

Almost.

Driving away, I glance down to my glovebox, secure in the knowledge that hidden somewhere in it’s depths, is a shiny, new plastic-wrapped spork.

NOTE: I understand that my reaction (and by reaction I mean rage) was a bit more than it should have been. Tired from the weekend’s event and not having eaten all day pushed me over the edge. I have worked in the fast food industry when I was in college and I know it’s not exactly a thrilling job. But still, I did not yell or scream (despite really really wanting to) so I am surprised at the lack of customer service on their end. Perhaps they were just crappy servers. Or perhaps I wasn’t controlling the crazy as well as I thought. Most likely it was a little of both.

The best you can hope for in this life is that your delusions are benign and your compulsions have utility. - Scott Adams

When I first read this from artist Scott Adams, creator of the Dilbert cartoon. it kinda sent a bunch of my synapses firing. I found this concept totally intriguing and plan to get a little introspective about it here.

Consider yourself warned.

Discipline vs. Compulsion
When I used to run five miles every day (Hard to believe I know. One year I missed only day. I ran in rain and snow and what have you) I considered myself disciplined and athletic. But if someone felt the need to flip a light switch on and off, or wash their hands repeatedly, it is considered OCD.

There’s a fine line between crazy and entrepreneurial.

If you bark at the moon to make it go away, you are considered crazy.

But if you start a business for which there is less than a 5% chance of success, you are considered an entrepreneur.

- Scott Adams

Genius vs. Insanity
There’s a fine line between genius and insanity. And it’s only a matter of degrees (or perhaps perceptions) that define one from the other. An artist who creates into the wee hours jacked up on coffee, booze or in my case diet Coke, until they collapse in exhaustion may be viewed as passionate and brilliant. But take that same person and have them creating something like a bomb shelter or something viewed as having no real benefit is seen as crazy.

To split this distinction even finer. An artist who paints traditional art of landscapes or florals (or say critter paintings) is seen as normal. I mean these are normal things to paint and normal to have hanging on your wall. But when an artist paints dark images or uses something macabre in their work their sanity is pulled more into question.

I know several artists whose work is dark or weird. One of them is one of the funniest, happy people I know. They use art as a way to get the craziness and chaos out of them. Whereas, I use art to connect with critters in a new way. But also, it’s a way to distract myself from the craziness and chaos around me.

So what do you think?
Where’s the line between crazy and genius drawn? How about between passionate or compulsive?

SO this time of year I put a few prints up for auction on eBay. In the past it was excellent money. Lately we just don’t have enough hours in the days to get them posted. We did however post one print. You might be thinking why bother. We’ll I’m kinda priming the pump and plan to post more soon.

But anywho, I was searching the horse art and started scrolling through the listings. And up popped this beautiful George Stubbs “Original” painting for sale by “the artist.” Starting bid .99 cents plus $57 shipping. (But heck it’s coming all the way from China) I’m like “What the . . . “ Because, well . . . good ol’ George has been dead for a few hundred years.

So I click on the item and see it is a large canvas being sold by . . . well I’m not sure (slanderous maybe?) for me to actually list the seller in question. So I’ll just say . . . um, it sounds like Darth Vader. Well it more like rhymes with it. I mean honest-trader doesn’t really rhyme with anything. (Yeah I know right? I mean if you have to make “honest” part of your name . . . well that’s a clue right there then isn’t it.) BTW, Darth has a very high satisfactory rating on eBay.

So curious gal that I am, I click to view other items from this seller. At that time “he” (and I’m using that term loosely because I don’t doubt for a minute that it’s a stable of artists mass producing that work) had 16 pages of original paintings for sale. (Thats around 300) Mostly it looked like a museum classical art collection with the occasional odd monkey painting thrown in.

Over here I can get the Mona Lisa (retitled something like smiling woman) and under that I could get a chimp in lipstick and pearls. If I like the painting but not the size they will paint it again any size I want. (What service!) Apparently monkey art is equal in value as Stubbs, Degas or Da Vinci.

Hey eBay! why not just set a 100 character limit and let me briefly explain what the trouble is. Instead of me wasting 25 minutes of my time and end up with my final report saying this artwork seller is selling illegal movies and/or drug contraband.

So I’m all good with this until I run across a painting of a cowboy encouraging his horse to cross a river. This is a knock-off of a recent painting by artist Craig Tennant called “Don’t get me wet.”

Well . . . that got my dander up. I immediately clicked on “report this item” which turns out offers you about 5 selections to choose from explaining why you are reporting it. I choose something that was close but not quite right and another automated questions arises with a smattering of choices. So again I choose the closest approximation of what my issue is . . . and yes another question followed by another and another. Each leading me farther and farther from my actual complaint.

So to keep me from totally going off about what a pain eBay’s report system was, I will sum it up by saying, in the end I did not report it. The choices were so limited, it didn’t make any sense in regard to what the actual issue was.

I felt the need to do something though. Part of me knows that the Chinese copycats do this and that’s just the way it is. But another part says that eBay should remove this seller. I mean seriously does anyone believe that Darth painted the Mona Lisa and Monkey with purse and the other 300 paintings he is offering as “his” work.

So then I thought. Okay, I’ll just email the artist. Let him handle the situation if he is so inclined. And so I clicked the contact link on his website and something called evolution popped up. With questions. Lots and lots of questions. Seriously, I just want to send you an email not sign up for a dating service. So yeah . . . that didn’t happen either. I get a little hedgy when some automated service starts asking questions about my server.

Okay, so here’s what I did do (because we’re all in this together folks.) I called the phone number listed on the artist’s site and left a message saying I seen a knock off of his for sale on eBay and I left them my phone number. (I’m not expecting them to call back. There a good chance they’re thinking I’m a fruit.) But I figured Tennant is a big enough artist who I think has publisher backing, that he might actually pursue it. I mean somebody really outta shut this Chinese factory outlet down. (Or at least force them to be “honest” in their dealings.)

But then again . . . an original Stubbs for a grand total of $58 (including shipping) is kinda hard to pass up.

Be strong Mona . . . Be strong.

Just a heads up this may well be the ravings of a petulant painter type who feels picked on by “the man” (”the man” in this case being art fair officials) Anyone not wishing to get any bad juju from my cranky post should avert their eyes and wait until I blog about something more positive like baby bunnies.

The Warning
So the reason for my childlike tantrum? I received a “warning” for selling notecards at the Omaha Summer Arts festival.

I think it is a sure sign that I am getting older that I am seriously considering writing them a cranky letter.

The whole thing was rather confusing because the festival allows notecards to be sold but apparently I didn’t have the fact that I would be selling them reflected in my slides. (though I’m pretty sure it was mentioned in the actual written paperwork). Mind you the event does on-site jurying and invites a small high scoring percentage back every year. I have always been pre-approved with the exception of the first year (of course) and then again several years back when I tried the Des Moines event. After which I had to go through the jury process. But for the past several years I was automatically in. So the slides I had submitted were after the jury review and were supposed to be for advertising purposes. So of course there was no slides of notecards. Not that I have been asked to submit slides of notecards . . . by anyone. . . anywhere . . . ever.

I think bad timing had a lot to do with my being cranky about the whole thing. My booth was full, I had a couple of people standing in line wanting to buy something and there is Carly (I don’t remember her official title but she is sort of an artist liaison person) talking to my husband Mike.

She is saying “You did nothing wrong, I just wanted to “warn” you that next year you need to send in an image of notecards.”

I’m like: “What? you want one of my slides to be of notecards? Seriously?” Okay I’m thinking that isn’t exactly going to impress the jury panel now is it. “Are we not allowed to sell cards?”

She’s like: “Yes you can sell cards but the slides you submit need to reflect everything you will be selling.”

I’m like: “I always thought that meant that if I sent slides of horses and lions, I’ll show up and display horses and lions, not say abstract landscapes.”

She’s getting frustrated that I am failing to grasp the elegant simplicity of what she is trying to tell me. Well that and my good mood is beginning to turn. She says: “It’s fine. Yes you can sell cards. I’m just “warning” you that next year . . . ”


Me: There’s that word again “Urrg”!

Just tell me why
The reasoning given that my slides need to accurately show “all” the stuff that I will be selling seems to fall a little short of logic for me. Now my neighbor is a potter and I’m guessing they will not need to send an image for each of his items i.e. teapots, platters, coffee mugs, bowls, dinner plates, rice bowls complete w/ chopsticks, oil lamps, table lamps, flower vases,cracker trays (ummm you get the idea.) Once again I’m feeling a little picked on in regards to being a painter.

The whole thing kinda gets my dander up. I think it is a sure sign that I am getting older that I am seriously considering writing them a cranky letter. (Yeah, that will teach ‘em a lesson.) Actually Omaha Summer Arts Festival has always prided itself on listening to the artists but the trend for art fairs lately is to push for more restriction on prints and cards for painters. I say for painters because as I have said in my previous rant on the subject, digital artists and photographers seem to be exempt from these rules.

Okay, so I feel somewhat purged at this point. I still think a cranky letter to OSAF may still be in my (an their) future though.

So I have once again fallen a bit on the quiet side on the blog. For the past 2 weeks I’ve been pulling 9-10 hours days at the gallery, 6 days a week (with a few more on Sundays for good measure.) I am soooo not complaining. Just shocking how quickly the weeks are moving by. As a result I have also not been able to try out my fixative theory. Perhaps tomorrow as I feel like I once again have handle on my work load.

So as to the critter problems
I’ve noticed our barn cats getting a little thin. It is summer so they shed out, but still they were not as plump as I like my cats to be. I increased the food (and I don’t feed out the generic stuff either) and they remained the same. So yesterday after chasing off a skunk in the front yard, I go do the cats. Then I head out and extend the grazing area for Chicory (he is still not free to graze to his hearts content. Probably by Sunday though, he will) then walk back into the barn to replug in the electric fence. And what do I find? A big boar coon hoarking down catfood as fast as he can, while my hungry cats glare balefully at him.

So I chase him off as well and tell Mike. The result is Mike asking his dad to borrow the rifle. We don’t actually have a gun. Well that’s not quite true. We have my grandfather’s gun which Mike grumblingly refers to as “the cannon.” We have always been a live and let live kind of farm. I really dislike racoons. They can spread disease, but more to the point they kill chickens and just tear up stuff (like shingles) for the fun of it. Other than live trapping (and setting them free far, far from home) we have pretty much just allowed them to be,

But it appears our “at one with nature” time has come to an end. Skunks, coons and badgers beware.

I have been staring bleary eyed at the computer screen for the past couple of days. Going over every single gallery transaction (all 8 million of them . . . tiny exageration) looking for errors. Tomorrow is the annual sojourn to our accountant, which is about an hour away. That’s the thing about living in the boonies, you have to drive for everything.

As I sit here trying to think of something clever to write I realize nothing sums up my experience with the accountant better than last years post.

So I’m reposting it, (with some minor tweaking.)

Now, I am a woman who is all about the numbers. Since knowing where we really stand business-wise can mean the difference between eating or not. Plus, I love statistics and inventories and records of what sells, when and where. I also track both my website and blog statistics eagerly.

That being said, I really (really, really) dislike going to the accountant. Not so much because I am worried or nervous. Its just because my business is … well … my business. This is my life and my passion. It is my blood, sweat and tears laid out before me, in all its numerical black and white glory. So then, to have a relatively complete stranger rifling through my private affairs, looking at it with cool impassionate eyes and making judgments, is hugely disturbing.

It kinda reminds me of those TV fashion police shows where the fashion experts rummage through their victim’s . . . urm I mean fashion awkward woman’s . . . underwear drawers. All the while making derisive comments. Until inevitably they pull out a pair of granny panties. And holding them up high, they exclaim in horror. “What is this!”

Yeah, it’s exactly like that.

So I was talking on the phone the other day with a new artist friend, Olga Krasovska, whom I met at the Owatonna Art Festival. Olga is a painter originally from Russia, who has been in the US for about 4 years now. (I think I got that right, as I said we are newly acquainted. Olga, if you’re out there, feel free to correct me on anything.) Her paintings are beautiful and if only she had a website, (it’s on her to do list) I would point you to her.

Anywho, she and I were exchanging information about art fairs. She’s looking to do more in Iowa and I’m looking to do more in Minnesota (her home state.) So the line of questioning was about what events we thought were good and that possibly the other should try. Since we’re both painters thats about as close to a guesstimate of how you’ll do at an unknown event, as you can get.

“. . .explain to me why photographers get to sell multiples of their images, when no (other 2-D artist) can?”

Then came several art events where my answer was all the same.

Olga: Have you done Madison Wisconsin?
Me: Nope, I hear it’s an excellent show but it’s originals only and so I have never even applied.

Olga: Have you done College Hill, in Cedar Falls, Iowa?
Me: Nope, I hear it’s an excellent show but it’s originals only and so I have never even applied.

Olga: Have you done . . . Okay, you get the point.

Originals Only Art Fairs . . . Answer Me This
Both she and I have quality giclee prints of our work. And for both of us that often makes up the bulk of our sales. We are at a point and quality level where our originals command a higher price.

“. . .how can I compete with jewelers, potters and photographers . . . who have $20-$50 items . . . while my originals have a much higher sticker price?”

I mean sure, I have a handful of small originals that sell for $200-$300 but most of my work has a far higher sticker price. How can I compete against potters, jewelers and photographers when I am only allowed to sell originals. I mean those guys can have $20-$50 items, which make up a huge part of their over all sales.

Here I sit, with my thousand dollar paintings next to them, praying for at least one sale to make my expenses. But hoping for two, so I actually show a profit.

I know many art fairs claim “originals only” as some sort of quality control thing. What that leaves you for 2-D artists is corporate art (which I am not) or artists whose price range is low enough that perhaps it calls into question their skill level, (and that seems to me to contradict the whole quality intention,) or photographers.

Also, explain to me why photographers get to sell multiples of their images, when no one else can? Seriously, do they think all of them are in the dark room. Of course most photographers have gone digital now. But then my question is, why are giclee photos prints allowed when giclee art prints not?

“. . .why are giclee photo prints allowed when giclee art prints not?”

Facing Extinction
I know quite a few art fairs that are struggling to get enough 2-D artists, because 2-D artists are struggling to make it. People have only so much wall space, but there is always room for another pot or necklace. If you take away our ability to make sufficient sales by marketing reproductions, then we may not be able to compete. And there’s getting to be fewer of us all the time.

In my In This Economy post, I mentioned two artists who quit their long time art gig for “real” jobs, guess what type of artist they were? Yup, painters both.

I have been hiding out for a couple of days. I fell and may well have cracked a rib. (Apparently I don’t bounce as well as I used to.) So I am taking yet another personal day to recuperate just a bit. I am not really in much pain unless I laugh, breath too deeply or God forbid, sneeze. Sleeping is really the only thing that hurts. Well . . . not sleeping exactly. Its more the rolling over bit. I really am working on some actual posts that deal with either art, animals or living the creative life. (just not for today)

Since I am trying to rest up, I have spent the past 36 hours or so, horizontal on the couch. I watched a couple of intrigueing shows last night. The first was Dumped on BBC America. 10 people are dropped off in the middle of a landfill and will spend the next 3-4 weeks, living off the refuse of others. At the moment, they get their food and water supplied (I have a suspicion, that may come to an end at some point.) But everything else, including housing, bathroom facilities, pots & pans and household supplies are rummaged for. The goal, is that at the end of their time, they will have created a totally sustainable living on the landfill. The whole project is to raise awareness about what we toss away and our impact on the planet.

I must add, they have an artist in the group. And as an working artist, I am a little disconcerted by what their artist is up to. While others are rummaging to create better living conditions for the group, she is off making a sculpture, in the belief that her art will make a statement about what they are doing. Now, while I like her spiritual and artistic mentality, I find it annoying that she leaves most of the mundane tasks to the others, while she creates. Sort of that stereotypical artist living off the community (government). Expecting that creating art, is a fair exchange for shelter and living necessities. I am probably just transferring my own issues about artists who spend their time between creating art and writing grants to sustain them. So I better drop the subject.

The other show was I Can Make You Thin with Paul Mckenna on TLC. Apparently, he is some relatively famous British diet guru. His mantra, “eat all you want and what you want and still lose weight.” (yeah, I know. . . let the rolling of eyes commence.) It is a 5 week series. And I am curious enough, that I think I will follow along.

Week 1.
The 4 Golden Rules.
1. Eat when your hungry. The reason behind this is if you ignore hunger, your body thinks it is being starved. It slows your metabolism and then when you do eat. It stores as much as it can as fat for future starvation.

2. Eat what you want. He say anything goes. If you want to live on pizza and potato chips, have at it. Toss out any foods you eat because you think you should. Toss anything you don’t like. (I am a diabetic, so I can’t truely do this part.)

3. Eat consciously. Eat slowly, chewing 20 times per bite. Put down your utensils between bites. Do not watch tv or read. Be in the moment while eating. If you are distracted, you don’t notice the full signal, your body is sending.

4. When your full, stop eating.

Sounds easy enough. I think I can manage the eating slow bit. But we eat our dinner in front of the tv every night. Most often because we eat later at night and since we have a really busy lifestyle, it is kinda guilt free tv. (I’m big into multitasking.) It should be an interesting experiment. If you want more information visit, the TLC website.

Upcoming Posts
I have spent much of today, elbow deep in art fair applications. Not a task I enjoy. I am waiting on the UPS man, to bring me a fresh batch of slides for the half dozen or so apps, (which are not yet taking digital submissions) that I need to get out in the next week. (Yes, I did put them off to the last minute again this year. But hey, I was painting!)

I have finished my portrait of Catch and will post a pic of it completed, after Carol has received her painting. Plans are already underway for the next horse painting. I will get some WIP’s up just as soon as I begin.

Also, I have plans on discussing a couple of ways to frame oil pastel paintings, (since it has some special requirements) sometime in the next 10 days.

Warmer Weather
I just returned from a lovely walk. At 5pm it was still 45 degrees. Ah! This kind of weather fills a girls head with visions of Spring. The snow is melting and the birdies are singing. Chicory is dozing in the sun and the barn kitties are frolicking. (Umm. . .well, not quite frolicking exactly. More like, establishing a dominance hierarchy for the upcoming breeding season. But that just doesn’t have an idyllic ring to it.)

Anywho, totally gorgeous outside and the forecast is for warmer weather still. Wahoo!

Reality TV
Now I am not talking about those shows where they put a dozen hormonally pumped, morally challenged young people in a house, and wait to see what mayhem ensues. (If I was into that sorta thing, I would just watch the barn cats frolick.)

What I am talking about is, creative challenge type shows like Bravo’s Project Runway. (Love this show, every single season of it.) Unfortunately this season came to an end last week. The good news . . . Bravo is replacing it with Top Chef. (again, Love it!) Considering I am not much into cooking, I do seem to like the cooking shows. Top Chef, The Last Restaurant Standing, Iron Chef and as already discussed, anything with Gordon Ramsey. (particularly Kitchen Nightmares and The F Word)

Luxury and Features

I finally got myself a new drafting chair. Isn’t it lovely. (insert angelic chorus here) The one I had, was one that came with my drafting table. And being as aged as it was, it had seen better days. It was covered in miscellaneous stains and oil pastel smears. As well as the seat and backrest where snagged and chewed on, by not one but two teething kittens. Also, the occasional bolt kinda stuck through the wafer thin padding, and poked me bum. (I’ve been watching a little too much Brit TV of late.) But the clincher was when a wheel popped off. (Yeah, that pretty much makes it junk.)

So we went shopping for a new chair. Now while this isn’t say . . the Cadillac of drafting chairs (I passed on the leather). It is still a fine example of comfort and luxury. And in keeping with the car metaphor, my last chair was more like an 80’s pinto. Tough, small, occasionally difficult, and not pretty to look at. It did the job, but it didn’t make you want to pet it when you walked by.

But my new chair, makes me sigh with blissful contentment. I mean really, just look at the fully adjustable thick padded seat and huge supportive backrest. Admire, its opulent size and sturdy construction. Caress, the lovely scotch-guarded fabric with that new chair smell. Oh, and did I mention it comes with features (Oh. . . features) and a 3 year warranty. Not some cheapo warranty either. Complete coverage, short of me hitching up Chicory and using it for buggy rides.

Now if it just had a cup holder, heated shiatsu massage and a motor, I would never leave it.

I am dragging a bit this morning. I’ve had my usual jolt of caffeine courtesy of diet coke. Ah… sweet nectar. Still not 100% yet. I went to bed last night at a moderately reasonable hour. But still I tossed and turned and couldn’t quite pass out. I usually try to squeeze as much out of everyday as possible. And so sometimes when the day is done I rehash How I could have sqeezed just a little bit more out of it. Now, thats not to say I don’t take any me time. I try to walk 2 miles everyday and I enjoy a hot (as in scalding my butt pink for 20 minutes after its over, hot) bath. So I lay awake last night wondering how I’ll manage to get it all done and make it all work. I tried to do some relaxation techniques with moderate success. Anywho, somewhere in the wee hours I faded off.

WARNING! The following paragraph contains muttering and whining. Please move on to the next entry if you don’t want to have the seeds of a crusty attitude implanted.

I recently finished reading The Secret by Byron someone ( think his name was Byron?). Some of my artsy friend had been talking about it and got my curiosity up. The jist of it is visualize what you want, Send that thought energy out into the universe and it will manifest itself unto you. The catch is you have to Believe that it will work, for it to work. Your cancer will be cured if you believe it enough. You will become rich beyond your wildest dreams…just believe. I follow some practices of visualization but it is the Believing that I struggle with. Making small things happen like a cup of coffee or a parking space easy enough. That I will be healed of being a diabetic. Hmm… can’t quite muster the blind faith. And yes, I think in many ways it really is just a spin off of religion. Both require faith and a certain amount of ritual. And if things don’t work out the way you want, well then there is no one to blame but yourself. You just didn’t believe it enough. Try harder.

Apologies. I really do employ visualization techniques for my personal life as well as business. And I believe they are successful in most cases or I wouldn’t continue to do them. There was just something about the book that smacked of a marketing ploy on the desperate. Probably just my mood and tomorrow I will be extolling the virtues of it. Fickle woman that I am.