Tag: art

Photo Friday, No. 937

Current Photo Friday theme: Ancient


Anubis, ancient god of funerary rites, protector of graves, and guide to the underworld, was portrayed in Egypt’s Early Dynastic period (circa 3100 to 2686 BC) in full animal form, with a jackal head and body.

Trivia: “Jackal” is one of my favorite words in the English language.

More trivia: If you were a “West Wing” viewer, you’ve probably never forgotten Allison Janney’s portrayal of C.J. Cregg lip-synching “The Jackal.” Allison Janney, who was really good at this, had to do it with C.J. not quite as good–all part of the fun. Seeing it again makes me want to rewatch the entire series.

ETA: It was on this date last year when Marika died. She’d have loved watching that video. “West Wing” is the show we simultaneously watched together late at night in different parts of the country, maintaining a running commentary via messaging.

Marika is missed, and I think of her often, especially when I hear INXS, Tom Petty, Elvis, Tom T Hall, Billy Idol, and Lenka. (Also–and she would bitch about this–Steve Perry/Journey.)

Happy Thanksgiving!

However you celebrate and wherever you are or with whom, I wish you a wonderful, tranquil day. I’m grateful for so many people and things, and whatever troubles me, I know my life is filled with abundance in what matters most–people (including friends and family) and dogs and a comfortable home. Because our holiday celebration is set for Sunday, we have a few days to do things around the Hall–like put up the Christmas tree! Photos to come. Lindsey and Rhonda gave me this coloring book for my birthday this spring, and I flipped through it with some of Blue Sky Boy’s suggestions in mind–including bikes and fall colors.

This is the page I chose. I always forget when I use this book to take a picture of how a page looks BEFORE I begin adding to it. But I found this unaltered photo on someone else’s site and used it (thanks, anonymous person who I don’t remember). Her photo cuts off part of the bottom, but it gives an idea of the background provided by the artist and coloring book creator, Kendra Norton.

Below is my version–I used a page of old bikes in the Antique Treasures coloring book for my model. Clearly, this rider has had a few tumbles and damaged the spokes because they’re not in any way aligned (unlike Amanda in yesterday’s post, I have little patience and zero skills as a draftsman). The dirt path at the bottom is colored pencil. The bike is black fine-lined pen and Sharpie, and the leaves are acrylic paint. Celebrate fall!

Thanksgiving Eve

Happy birthday today to Lynne! Always love sharing this photo I took at Cheaha State Park on a visit to our favorite lookout point during one of the decades we’ve been friends (who’s counting?!?).

We aren’t doing our Thanksgiving tomorrow as planned. Timothy had a couple of other clients in need of him, and his first real break when he can relax and hang out for a few consecutive hours will happen on Sunday. We’ll do our Thanksgiving meal then. In the meantime, I’ll be coloring and writing. I’d done another coloring page (shown below) from the Village Charm coloring book even before the bookstore drawing I recently shared. Below it is more flash fiction I hope you’ll enjoy (I went a bit over the thousand-word count, even after editing. This should surprise no one who reads me.).

I.J. drove his beat-up Civic to Amanda’s place with the windows down and his most recent tape playing. His car was so old it still had its original cassette player. One of his Sunday tasks while he did laundry was to create a weekly mix tape. He drew from half a lifetime’s accumulation of songs on computer, album, and CD collections to make a mix he could enjoy during a week’s worth of drives to and from work.

He was running late because Amanda had asked him to stop at the bakery to pick up three dozen mini chocolate cupcakes. She said they’d be perfect for an abundance of vanilla ice cream and chocolate sauce she wanted to use up. Amanda believed most people had a superpower they didn’t recognize. I.J. thought Amanda’s was her ability to throw things together quickly and create the perfect meal, outfit, party, excursion, or event. Her life was like Mary Poppins’ carpetbag: whatever was needed was in it. I.J. wondered if her creativity and spontaneity were a reaction to the precise mathematical and technical demands of her work as a draftsman.

The six who’d be at Amanda’s tonight evolved into a group over several years, when their original connections moved on because of graduations, breakups, jobs, and family crises. As they aged into their thirties, their lives stabilized. Though they had other friends and sometimes romances, changed jobs, and pursued diverse interests, their group stayed solid. Maybe the secret to their longevity was not gathering as a group too often. None of them had ever dated any of the others, so there were no messy memories or grudges among them.

The six consisted of two straight women, one bisexual woman, two straight men, and one asexual man. I.J. had spent much of his young adulthood trying to figure out why he was never sexually attracted to anyone. Counseling had finally given him an identity he could understand. He valued friendships and even deep emotional and spiritual connections; asexuality simply meant he wasn’t interested in physical relationships. That truth felt like a huge weight being lifted, especially when he learned there were plenty of people who were like him.

He thought of his other friends and their superpowers. Craig could fix anything. A weird noise coming from under the hood, anything broken or malfunctioning in a house or apartment, Craig was your guy. And he never wanted anything in return except maybe a pizza and a six-pack. He did all right financially as a landscaper but could probably be a millionaire as a fix-it guy. He liked keeping it a hobby, though, and refused payment.

Nora’s superpower was photography. She still used cameras that shot with actual film and spent weekends, holidays, and vacations capturing stunning images of nature and wildlife. She provided her own chemicals and paper to process them in the photo lab at the college where she taught history. Her colleagues knew her as Elnora; she thought it made her sound more professorial. I.J. thought it was strange that she didn’t teach photography or any other visual art.

Jess was their storyteller. He shared anecdotes about unnamed colleagues and customers, often making them all laugh to the point of tears. I.J. was never sure what parts of Jess’s stories were true or outright fiction. He had no idea how many retailers Jess had worked for over the years, most of them at the big mall thirty miles away. They were surprised when his most recent position managing the local bookstore had lasted two years, and held their breath when a new owner took over. The owner had no retail experience herself, but when Nora found out she’d been a teacher, she said they could stop worrying. A former high school teacher could whip any business into shape. A bookstore, even one that employed quirky Jess, would barely make her blink.

Liz countered that she wished the new owner would take over the hospital, too. Liz worked as a lab tech in every department–except the morgue, as she liked to say. They all worried about the emotional toll of her job. I.J. thought it was Liz’s superpower that saved her. She was a harpist, so gifted that the videos she posted of herself on social media garnered hundreds of thousands of views and likes. Liz never monetized her performances. She wouldn’t do endorsements; she gave no options for donations to her; and she left her comments turned off. The only statement in her bio was that anyone who enjoyed her music, Be good humans and donate your time or money to organizations that assist others.

There was no parking on Amanda’s street, so I.J. pulled into an open space on the nearest block. He ejected the tape, put it in its case, jammed it inside his pocket, grabbed the cupcakes, and left his car unlocked. There was nothing to steal except the car itself, and he doubted anyone would want it.

He spied Amanda’s dog Honey lying near the doorway of No. 9 (he always heard that repeated in the unnamed engineer’s voice from the Beatles’ song “Revolution 9”). Honey liked napping on the sidewalk since there was no parking or through traffic on the street. The front door was left open when the superpowers gathered there.

I.J. stopped walking, struck by a sudden thought. If the others had superpowers, why didn’t he? Without great wealth or the magical skills of a ninja or shapeshifter, with no talent to speak of–he didn’t think asexuality counted–if he was just an ordinary mortal, how did he fit into their group? He resumed walking slowly toward No. 9, and sat on the curb, cupcakes next to him, so he could pet Honey. He could clearly hear his friends’ voices through the open window.

Nora: He’s not answering his cell.

(I.J. suddenly realized he’d left his phone at home.)

Jess: He’s never late.

Liz: I hope he didn’t have an accident.

Craig: More likely that car of his crapped out. I need to give that thing a checkup.

Amanda: He has to come! Otherwise, we’ll have no music!

Liz: We need to find him. Those tapes he puts together are my coping mechanism.

Jess: They’re my emotional support music.

Liz: Do you know how many of his choices inspire what I perform and share on my social media?

Amanda: His tapes remind me of decades of music I’ve loved and can put on my office playlists.

Nora: You do that, too? I listen to mine in the darkroom. My students want them playing in class while they take exams.

I.J. realized he was smiling like an idiot, cleared his throat, and said loudly, “Sorry, Honey, the cupcakes are chocolate. Pretty sure I can talk Amanda out of a safer treat for you.”

He and Honey both stood and walked toward the open door of No. 9.

©Becky Cochrane

Sunday Sundries


I took a gentle break this morning as Tom and I were doing household chores and planning for the week ahead. Even when I’m alone at the table, I feel the presence of others. Possibly Lynne gave me the tin that holds my instant hot chocolate (it really is Swiss Miss® this time; it isn’t always), but she definitely gave me the little plate the two Pepperidge Farm® Milano cookies are on (thanks for the cookies, Tom!). The coffee mug is part of a set of four different van Gogh-inspired mugs from Tom’s parents many years back. During my break, I was putting together a menu and grocery list.


This is the beginning of preparation for our Thanksgiving holiday after Tom’s grocery run. There are still a couple of things missing, and these don’t include the food Debby will add. There’s much to be baked, boiled, and otherwise cooked or prepared, but the bulk of shopping is done. This has always been my favorite holiday, despite many past Thanksgivings I’ve experienced with fractured families, missing people, dramatic scenes, and loneliness. That shit can make for good, or at least interesting, storytelling.

I’m grateful for so much and so many every day, and I appreciate having a day when the nation pauses to be thankful–and maybe to do something to help others who aren’t as fortunate. I long ago opted out of Black Friday retail madness, something I’ve never regretted. I wish a good week to those for whom shopping is fun, along with gathering for tag football, watching football, playing board games, retelling stories, and being with family by birth or choice, or being solo and simply enjoying a day of rest, watching Netflix, or appreciating the animals who love us unconditionally.

If the holidays find you depressed, please reach out to available resources easily found online who can help you through it. If it will help you, volunteer your time at a shelter, a food kitchen, or a hospital or nursing home. Whatever you do or don’t do, whatever your circumstances or state of mind, YOU MATTER. Always believe it.

When worlds collide


Take a page from the coloring book Village Charm and a page from Complete the Story, and what might I get? The idea to finish this prompt:

along with the page I colored:

Here’s a tale for anyone who wants to read where imagination took me while I colored today.

Pauline felt empty and full at the same time. She was mentally and physically exhausted, but her spirit buzzed with energy it hadn’t felt in a long time. Finally she was ready to open the bookstore–as soon as the clock on the city hall tower struck ten.

She sat on a bench across the street from Little Village Books and realized that technically, the store was open. At least the front door was. Memphis the cat sat in the doorway, pausing his grooming ritual to watch her. He’d been her constant companion the last few weeks, and she’d grown to appreciate the company. She could understand why Grandpa let Memphis stay when he’d first walked into the store as a stray.

She smiled and pulled a rumpled letter from the pocket of her denim jacket and began to read it, as she had many times before.

“Sweet Pauline, I’ve always wished one of my grandchildren would want the bookstore. For years, your grandmother was my partner. She was the reasonable one of us, always reminding me, ‘Richard, remember that store doesn’t own you. You own the store.’ When our only child, your mother, married your father and moved away, we almost sold Little Village Books. We didn’t. Then Jenny died. As a widower, I again considered selling out and moving close to your parents and their growing family. I didn’t. When Calico Jane died three years ago, I knew I was too old to get another cat and probably too old to continue running the store. Two buyers offered good deals, a surprise in an era of declining independent bookstores. I worried that the property was more appealing than a bookstore. I didn’t accept either offer.

Your mother and I had a long conversation about all of you. I told her what qualities I thought the store needed in an owner and manager: intelligence, a sense of humor, a love of books, people skills, and financial acumen. She told me that all of you love books and reading, but also: Ricky’s brilliant but completely lacking a sense of humor. Elaine’s loaded with personality but has filed bankruptcy for the second time. Barry has people skills, but his sense of humor skews toward daredevil antics and frequent trips to the emergency room. ‘But Pauline,’ she said, ‘is smart, has a sense of humor, does great with people, and has burned out from pouring herself heart and soul into teaching. Little Village Books would be in capable hands with her, but I can’t imagine her leaving her students.’

I assume if you’re reading this letter, maybe you’re considering a career change. The shop is in the black and won’t be a financial burden to you. In addition, I sold the house and have lived in the apartment above the store for the last couple of years, where you could live. The money from the house sale would come to you with the store. The town’s small, the property taxes are manageable with the apartment and shop bundled together, and when Memphis walked in the front door last year, I somehow knew a future was going to work out for him, me, and a new owner. The cat was good luck. He can be good luck for you, too.

In the large locked drawer of my desk in the apartment, I’ve compiled years of stories about the store, its customers, and the townspeople. It’s a big advantage to know your customers’ tastes, but also who you can count on and who to be wary of. It’s not a perfect town. It’s a real one. Consider those journals the kind of education you got while earning your teaching degree.

Before I close, I advise that if you decide to take the store, even before it opens, do one outrageous thing to communicate to the world, or at least to one little village, there’s a new bookseller in town. After that, I hope, like me, you have the adventure of a lifetime in a store that you own–but honestly, it will own you, too.

Much love,
Grandpa

Pauline returned the letter to her pocket and looked again at Little Village Books. When she’d first seen it, the store signs, the door, and the signs that went to the sidewalk for bargain books and to advertise events, had all been painted a dignified blue and gold. She’d refreshed some of those with new colors, particularly the front door, now bright pink and green. The plaster on the lower exterior wall was the same bright green. Yesterday, she’d heard a child say to her mother, “But I want to go in the melon door store!” She couldn’t hear the mother’s answer as they kept walking, but she knew from that moment, her “outrageous” choice of color had fulfilled Grandpa’s directive.

The “Melon Door” Book Store now officially belonged to her. Or to her and Memphis.

©Becky Cochrane

tangled up in blue, among other things, and a breakthrough

I’ve colored from this book before, but maybe only for posting on Instagram. I think one of the first pages I ever colored when I picked up the habit again was taken from it. Back then, I colored while I waited outside a building in the medical district where Debby was interviewing to be a hospice volunteer shortly after she moved to Houston with Harley and Stewie (so 2015?).


This new addition looks a bit like Harley–lab-like–and I chose to color him because I could fit the drawing, as hoped, under the one I shared Wednesday. I just had to trim off the top and bottom of the empty space around him. If I had to name him, I don’t know if I’d call him Blue or Tangle. While I was coloring him, Bob Dylan’s song “Tangled Up In Blue” was running through my head. The song was from his album Blood On The Tracks, which along with his album Desire, remained on continuous play when Kathy and I hung out together as undergraduates at Bama. If we were listening to those albums now, I believe we’d still remember all the words.

Forgetting that I’d colored Blue/Tangle and already had a post drafted for him, this morning I looked again at a list of suggestions from Blue Sky Boy. (You know, I do know your first name, but I never use it because I never asked if I could, and I don’t remember if you used it on LJ.) Back on topic, I saw the word “soccer” in his list and perused a few coloring books to see if anyone was playing soccer. Didn’t find anything but I did find a soccer ball in this coloring book. (Fun fact: a soccer ball, or the French version, ballon de soccer, is mentioned in the work in progress in the Neverending Saga.) That page led me to inspiration from the guy below, who joined the soccer ball and a few other things like a yellow umbrella (a reference to “How I Met Your Mother,” because I enjoyed the way the TV show used it through many seasons) and a baseball (also important in the Neverending Saga).


Tom’s grandfather owned a grocery store, and once, when a customer couldn’t pay his bill, he built and gave Grandpa two rocking horses for his first two grandchildren, Tom and his cousin Gina. This one is Tom’s. I love that story and the rocking horse. Here’s the picture I colored today.

As I colored, I finally had a solution to something that’s been holding up the writing of this chapter I’ve been struggling with. Hopefully that means a good writing day tomorrow. For future posts, I have a few more coloring pages lined up, as inspired by suggestions. Thank you for your comments and input.

is there anybody going to listen to my story

Title is a Beatles lyric. Took my most recent coloring page (started last night; finished this morning) from this book. If I tell you the book’s one of my favorites, you’ll probably roll your eyes and think, They’re all your favorites, but it’s not true. There are a whole stack of coloring books I rarely open, so you see mostly coloring pages from my favorites. And I’ll offer again: come up with a coloring page theme or something you’d like to see colored, and I can probably find it on my shelf.

In 2016, I made a firm promise to myself. In 2020, I took a deep breath and repeated it. The paths my thoughts traveled as I colored the page below–thoughts that had zero to do with what I was coloring–have made me question whether I can make and keep that promise again. I don’t mean to sound all mysterious and certainly not ominous. I’m not making drastic changes in my life, only accepting a hard truth about something. I’m sure we all have to do that sometimes.

Here’s the coloring page. It doesn’t take up the whole page in my sketchbook, so I’ll probably end up coloring something smaller to go with it one day.

And here’s “Girl” by the Beatles from Rubber Soul that played its way through my ten million thoughts and resolutions while I colored. Man, I miss Riley.

ETA: The reason I chose that page to color was because it had earrings. This past summer, I made the decision to stop wearing earrings and let my piercings close up. I first got my ears pierced at age sixteen by a friend–ice cube against the ear for numbing, sewing needle through the lobe into a slice of raw potato behind the ear–lots of alcohol and soap and water, leaving the little gold studs in for I don’t remember how long until everything was healed. I’d been absolutely forbidden to get my ears pierced. I did it when my mother was in New Jersey waiting on the birth of a grandchild. My father never noticed. I didn’t know the phrase then, but “it’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission.” =) My second piercings were a spur-of-the-moment agreement with Lynne in a Houston mall in, maybe, 1989? ’90? With one of those piercing guns. Hurt like the dickens. Anyway, I was tired of trying to find earrings I liked and could leave in all the time. I have a ton of beautiful earrings, mostly small studs, and probably not a single niece or grandniece, nephew or grandnephew, who’d want them.

Sunday Sundries

For whatever reason, I’m dragging today. Maybe I do know the reason. I couldn’t fall asleep last night for anything. I tossed and turned for a couple of hours, repositioned a couple of dogs several times, and finally gave up and changed rooms so I wouldn’t disturb everyone else. I wasn’t even thinking of anything to keep me awake or make me afraid to fall asleep. It just wasn’t happening.

But I promised unicorns, and unicorns it shall be. I’ll begin with this little dish that rests on my dresser. No memory of where it came from, but the only thing I’ve ever dropped in it is that magic token. If that’s not an apt description for a unicorn, what is?

The Unicorn Wishes set came with a unicorn, a mat to stand on, four scenic backdrops, and a book.

The unicorn is petite, but surely full of good vibrations. I’ll call her Wishes. And promptly forget her name. (One of many reasons this site exists: to be the Info Repository for my brain.)


I imagine I picked up this beauty at a craft or art supply store when I needed a unicorn for a photo shoot. Maybe during the Katnip series. Too lazy to search! I’ll call her Flower. Today, I used her to text birthday wishes to my friend Kathy: Making Me Laugh Since 1977 ™, including over the last few days.

Does this boy have a name? I don’t remember, but as of this writing, he’ll be named Secret. He has one. It’s harmless.


Now back to this, the OFFICIAL coloring book of The Magical Unicorn Society. Not to be confused with those fake coloring books, societies, and whatnots. This book gives an account of the different types of unicorns: the Gold Unicorn and the Silver Unicorn; the Mountain Jewels; the Water Moons; the Woodland Flowers; the Desert Flames; the Ice Wanderers; the Storm Chasers; and the Shadow Nights.

I colored a Shadow Night in July of 2020, and a scene with two Woodland Flowers in Sept/Oct 2020. As I mentioned yeseterday, I’ve kept the pages in the book, because of how it’s arranged by different unicorn groups and provides history. Which you know is all accurate because it’s from The Magical Unicorn Society. No naysayers need pop off like this is some silly made-up thing. This comes right from Unicorn canon.


Since I’d already colored the first two pages of the first section in the book, the Gold and the Silver Unicorns, back in April of 2022, I decided over the past couple of days to continue through the book in order. According to the history, these were the very first unicorns, born thousands of years ago, thanks to the misbehavior of another of Earth’s inhabitants, a Winter Dragon.

Maybe this fellow who’s been living in the toy chest since he was captured to put on a birthday cake is a Winter Dragon.

This malcontent attacked a pair of horses and chased them through a magical waterfall.

The waterfall transformed the horses into the Gold Unicorn and the Silver Unicorn. The two of them appear on the Magical Unicorn’s Society’s official crest. They represent power and prestige and are matched with the symbols of the four elements: earth, air, fire, and water.

The Magical Unicorn Society Official Coloring Book is for sale from multiple sources. If you or someone you know loves unicorns and coloring, I highly recommend it.

Gratitude

I’d pulled three coloring books off the shelf the other day to use for my next coloring pages, and this is the third of those (I’ve already pulled three more). It’s one of my favorites, but because the pages are on front and back, if I want to color a page, I scan it and print it on cardstock so I won’t lose the backing page (because some of the pens I use bleed through, and also, I like putting them in my big sketchbook when they’re finished).

Before I get to that though, I need to send a big thank you to the people who’ve made these last few days pleasant in so many ways (including texts, emails, and phone calls). Anyone who comments here lifts my spirits, and Mark has been catching up for the last few days, and it’s so much fun to go back to old posts and read and respond to his comments. I promise, Mark, even when you get caught up or miss, I will continue to anticipate our interactions with pleasure.

Getting comments here is always fun, and I thank my regulars, like Blue Sky Boy and Lynne, and the people who like leaving more cryptic names for fun (you know who you are), and my family members (including Tom, Ron, David, Debby, Geri, Lisa) and fellow writers (including my writing partners) who drop in from time to time and leave comments. I enjoy the occasional visits and comments from Nurse Lisa, Debbie D. in Canada, Gael who’s another LJ person from long ago. I may get more interaction on Instagram than here (though I post there infrequently except in October). There’s a different vibe to that: one is similar to passing someone I know (and like) in public, or having brief but pleasant interactions with strangers, and the other is like inviting someone to visit my home for a good conversation (even when brief), if that makes sense. There are also people, including family members, who read here regularly but respond via email, and that interaction is equally welcome.

Everyone has busy lives and endless places to direct their attention–jobs, time with friends and families, and in pursuit of interests like books, music, TV, movies, social media, traveling, and more physical activities. So a visit here is always appreciated.

Today’s coloring page was inspired by this photograph of Maxime De La Falaise wearing a fish-tailed striped gown designed by Paquin, as photographed by Cecil Beaton in Vogue, January 1950. I researched her, and wow, what an interesting person she was, and she had an intriguing family, as well. In this age, they’d definitely qualify as influencers, with huge groups of fans/admirers along with plenty of detractors, I’m sure. A current family comes to mind…

 

I liked being able to do the black stripes on this myself, and hope the contrast comes across in the photograph as well as on the page in front of me.

Another place, another time


Below is a page I colored last Friday and Saturday. It’s from the Sweden section in The Look coloring book. Two friends are walking the dog in Stockholm. This one’s in honor of a dear friend who lives in Sweden and of whom I was thinking while I colored.

I’ve named this dog Sabi (she’ll know why). Sabi’s a social media influencer who loves being the center of attention. He’s very big in Denmark, Norway, and Sweden. In fact, he paid for everything they’re wearing and their cell phones. Good dog! (Note: He would be a good dog even without his earning power. All dogs are good dogs, including complicated Jack.)

(And look, Mark–another zebra crossing!)