New Year, New Opportunities

My last post, which was so long ago, was in celebration of losing my job. Now I am celebrating a new job that I will be starting soon. I am returning to the workforce as a designer in a week.

I have so enjoyed growing as an artist these past two years, which wouldn't have been possible without my guardian angel. My dad passed away about a year and a half ago, and the small inheritance I received has allowed me to pursue my art and grow while waiting for the right position to come along. I don't mean the position that pays the most or that has the most prestige. I mean the one that will allow me to support my family while continuing to paint on the weekends. If there is anything I have gained during my time away from the rat race, it's a shift in priorities.

I donate a portion of my Pet Projects sales to Animal Haven now, so it's important to me to be able to continue. I don't pretend to make an enormous difference, but every little bit helps. I truly believe that we should use our talents to give back to the world. Pets give unconditional love to their owners, and they are such a beautiful example of the power of forgiveness. Any little dent I can make in saving the ones without good homes is a blessing, and it fills my painting with purpose.

Another change coming soon is that our family will be moving to a new duplex. We moved to a tiny two-bedroom apartment at the time I was laid off. Right now we have crates where a kitchen table should be, and my easels and art supplies are everywhere! My family has been very understanding about sharing our space with all my supplies, but we are all looking forward to having a family room where we can invite friends and relax. 

I will have a new loft area studio space with plenty of room for my easels and supplies. It is open to the family room, as is the kitchen. The space is full of light, which I crave in our current location. We will have a large basement, so all the things that have been hidden away in storage will once again be accessible. I miss my wok! Giff misses his bookcases. And my daughter misses her closet, as we currently keep our vacuum cleaner and Christmas tree in hers. We will put the dog crates down in the basement, so we will once again have space for a table to gather around. And I am giddy about the wooden floors! I despise vacuuming, and can't wait to be able to grab a dust mop at the site of a tuft of dog hair.

Change can be good. I miss my parents, but I imagine they are smiling down at us as we anticipate the exciting changes coming to our lives. I hope the new year is bringing positive opportunities to whomever is reading this.

I'd like to invite the reader to visit http://www.etsy.com/shop/ldavis711 The sale of my paintings and prints benefits Animal Haven, serving the KC metro area.

Thank God I got laid off!

Seriously, I mean it. A year ago I was driving to work every morning with my heart in my throat, praying that I would dodge the layoff bullet yet again. Then I'd sit at my computer and sweat as the rumors started coming in about who was hit by sniper fire in other departments, knowing it was a harbinger of what was coming to the creative department soon. Every time my phone rang I jumped. And I drank a lot of beer when coworkers gathered at the keg after work, trying to feel good about the place that was giving me so much anxiety. I mean a LOT of beer. I gained over thirty pounds working at that office. It wasn't a bad place to work before the evil discount store king pulled their account, but after that…

When I finally got my notice I thought the world would end. I was the primary bread winner for my family, and everything we had hinged on my ability to make a living.

I was the first one in to work that day, because something inside told me I HAD to get all my work backed up immediately. My gut could not have been more right. When the HR guy told me, all the air in the room was sucked out and my head started buzzing. Then the messages started coming in and panic started to spread around the office. Sure enough, people started falling like dominoes. The rumor was 14, and we started counting as the emails came in about who got hit. No one felt safe, because really talented people who had been there a long time were included. When the 14th individual was named, everyone else first breathed a sigh of relief, then started visiting the offices of the soon to be departed.

The one thing that made it all okay that day was that we were in good company. You can't get that upset when that many really good people with good reputations lose their jobs together. It wasn't personal. Economics forced the hands of the management. Our egos were mostly intact. Our luckier coworkers took us all to lunch and we drank beer. Then we came back to the office to pack up. In all the scary haze, there were moments of laughter as we came across memories in the drawers of our desks. In a strange way it was almost fun, because we were all embarking on the voyage together. Then we met at a bar after work and drank lots more.

Well, the world hasn't ended. More people from the office have joined our ranks, and to my knowledge only a rare soul here and there has gotten full time employment. But my two best buds from the office and I are making it on our own. Our good reputations have served us well, and we are getting work and paying the bills. We are so much more relaxed now that we know the bottom that dropped out was a false bottom, and below it was a trampoline that would spring us to happier places.

The most awesome thing for me personally is that I'm painting again, and I'm exploring art quilting techniques. I'm amazed that the skills are still there after being stagnant for so long, and I'm growing by leaps and bounds. I don't see boundaries anymore. I know that I will have booths in art fairs around the country, and that eventually my work will hang in galleries. Between freelance work and pet portraits I am paying the bills while I'm building my business.

I love that my success is no longer dependent on office politics or my ability to project the image my superiors are looking for. I don't have to try to fool people into thinking I am younger than I am. My image is dependent only on my desires, and being an artist gives me the freedom to let my hair go salt and pepper, wear exotic clothing if the urge strikes, and do whatever I want for the most part. I don't stress about whether my home reflects the same standards as those of my coworkers, or whether my weekends give me fodder for interesting elevator conversation. I revel in things that I didn't have time to notice before, like the gorgeous colored leaves of Fall that are surrounding me right now. If my daughter gets sick and needs me to stay home with her, or something happens with my family and I need to leave town, I don't worry that it will put my name on a list on someone's desk. I've got something new to be thankful for everyday now.

So the lesson for me is that there really isn't much to fear. My worst fear happened, and it turned out to be one of the best things to happen to me. I am finally becoming the person I used to daydream of being whenever I was not enjoying my job, and I didn't have to win the lottery to do it. So I face the future now with calm, knowing that frightening prospects can bring new adventures with valuable lessons to be learned. Life is good.

Sad News

Walter H. Evans, of Bartlett, TN, passed away suddenly on Tuesday, October 6.  He was retired VP of Manufacturing for Energy Design Inc. and an accomplished woodworker and flyfisherman.  Widower of Lorna Harding Evans, Mr. Evans is survived by his three children, David, Mark (Conway, AR) and Linda Davis (Shawnee, KS), a sister, Beulah Herring (Bend, OR), seven grand children and two great-grandsons.  The family respectfully requests that memorials be sent to the Wings Cancer Foundation or the West Cancer Clinic in Memphis. Visitation at Memorial Park Funeral Home, 6-8pm Thursday, October 8; Funeral, 11am Friday, October 9, Ellendale United Methodist Church.

Introducing Luna and Sirius, Guest Bloggers

Luna: Man! Evil man carrying loud stick in the grass! Evil man getting too close to window! EVIL MAN! EVIL MAN!

Sirius: Why does Luna like sitting in the middle of the vertical blinds? Oh wait? Is that a dude by the window? I wonder if he has any treats on him? I'm gonna go check it out.

Luna: EVIL MAN! EVIL MAN! Sirius, get outta my way. EVIL MAN! But Dad! That man is evil! I must protect! EVIL MAN!

Sirius: Great Luna, now we're in the crate cuz you had to open your big mouth. Oh, wait. Mom is making Dad let us out. What? Luna doesn't get to come out? Hmmm, wonder if the dude with the treats is still by the window. Did he have treats?

Luna: Sigh. If I'm quiet, I'll only have to be in here for a few... there's Dad! I'm getting out! Thanks Daddy! See, I'm a good girl, I'm sitting!

Sirius: Hey! She's sitting! There must be treats. HEY DAD! I can sit, too. See how well I sit? See how I don't even move a hair while Luna is still a little spazzy? I'm a statue, a genuine work of art. I am the epitome of sitting greatness.

Luna: Oh, it worked! Dad is going to the food bin! I'm gonna go check it out!

Sirius: Luna, you must maintain your composure or you won't get... Thanks Dad! Yum yum yum.

Luna: I always forget! See! I'm sitting! I'm sitting! I'm sitting! Yes! Yum yum yum. Oh, Dad is going to the food bin again. Look! Dad! I can lay down. I can hold up my paw. I can...

Sirius: Luna, you have to wait to see what he wants first. See? He wants us to get on our hind legs, like this. Yum yum yum.

Luna: He's not giving me a treat! But Dad, I am doing so many... oh, wait. Sirius is on his hind legs and he got a treat. Look Dad. I'm on my hind legs, too. Yum yum yum.

Sirius: Mom looks lonely at the computer. I'm going to put my head on her knee. She's a sucker for that. See? Ooh, I love it when she scratches my chest.

Luna: Where did that evil man go? Oh, look. A dog. It's an evil dog. That evil dog is IN OUR PARKING LOT! EVIL DOG! EVIL DOG! Okay, okay, I'll hush. Dad, you don't have to put me in the crate. I'm gonna go bark at mom instead. She works too hard and she needs to come sit on the couch and relax. MOM! STOP WORKING! RELAX! Ooh, Mom, that feels good! Okay Mom, you can stay right there. Sirius and I will write this blog so you have your hands free for scratching.

:-)

Meat and Three

If I am ever lucky enough to When I win the lottery, I'm going to open up a Meat and Three in Kansas City. If I am not mistaken, although I'll admit to not being gastro-geographically savvy, this is a southern concept. The term "meat and three" comes from the hand-typed menus, where one picks one meat from a choice of changing daily offerings, and three cholesterol-raising veggies (which is not an oxymoron in the south) from a long list. An alternative is the veggie plate, where you fore-go the meat and choose four veggies. Don't be fooled though. Nothing is vegetarian in a Meat and Three.

I won't manage the place myself, except for frequent visits for quality control. I did my penance as a waitress during my long stay in college, and don't plan on working in a restaurant again. Besides, I never learned to cook southern-style food. My mother and grandmother both worked full time. My grandmother had a cook. My mother reheated canned and frozen vegetables and covered mystery meat with Campbell's soup, like so many women from her generation. And my father, a native Californian, hates southern food, so we never had it at our house when I was growing up.

I will, however, paint big beautiful paintings of dogs, cats and other animals to hang on the walls, despite the fact that the art would have nothing to do with anything there. However, I won't do paintings of cows, pigs, chickens or catfish. That'd be a little unappetizing.

In Memphis at lunch time, patrons line up out doors and around corners in anticipation of fried farm-raised catfish or chicken, good meatloaf (yes, good), chicken and dumplings, country fried steak with white gravy, pork chops, slow-cooked green beans with bacon, broccoli with cheese sauce, fresh corn on the cob, squash casserole, warm corn bread and biscuits with real butter … I could go on and on. The thing I miss most is homemade banana pudding layered with vanilla wafers and fresh whipped cream.

In addition to traditional sweet tea and sodas, which will be listed under the category "Coke," I will also serve non-traditional beer and delicious fizzy waters like La Croix. Maybe they don't go with the foods I listed, but I don't care. It'll be my restaurant. I'll throw in some mint juleps and Southern Comfort for the sake of theme.

My place will have creaky but beautifully finished wooden floors and tin ceilings, repurposed from old buildings. The windows will be big to let the sun stream in. The walls will be painted beautiful bright but rich colors. The waitresses will look older than they are and have husky voices, due to smoking and living hard lives, and they will call their customers "honey" and "darlin" and learn their names, not because it's a rule but because it comes naturally. Customers will pay at the cashier stand, where they will find toothpicks and old style Double-Mint gum. If you want the bill split, you'll just tell the cashier what you had. He/she will ring up each item, crossing them off the handwritten bill as they go. Credit/debit cards will be accepted, but they will be run through antiquated systems where you sign on those tiny receipts and keep the yellow copy.

Before you start thinking Cracker Barrel, let's get one thing straight. I'm talking family-owned, not chain. I'm talking the real deal. Cracker Barrel can keep their kitschy gift shops and rocking chairs and gingham table cloths, although I don't think they have gingham table cloths, but it wouldn't surprise me if they did. Dried or silk flowers will never enter my restaurant, only fresh. No teddy bears with college t-shirts will be found at my place unless some little kid brings one in. And I have nothing against rock candy, but it won't be sold there. It'll be a restaurant, not a truck stop.

And I'm definitely not talking cafeteria.

You might think, "Well Johnson County already has Stroud's." Trust me, people here might think that's good fried chicken, but the transplanted southerners I've spoken to agree that Stroud's food is a little on the bland side. If you live outside the south, do yourself a favor and get some real southern fried chicken the next time you are down there. If you have your choice, get Gus's Fried Chicken. It's a revelation.

Maybe there is a Meat and Three in Kansas City, but the people I've asked didn't know what I was talking about. My apologies to the owner if a true Meat and Three exists here and has escaped my notice.

When If I win the lottery and open my restaurant, you should be forewarned though. If you eat there, you may find yourself speaking with a slow southern drawl afterward.

This is not a test.

I finished my bulldog painting today and turned it in for Art Unleashed. I felt very proud on the way over to the drop-off. I really like this painting and I have high hopes that it will make some good money for the Humane Society. However, when I got to Janet's house, I have to admit I was taken aback at how good the other pieces were.

It's not so much that I was expecting less of the other works. It's more that I'm nervous about my decision to try to make it out on my own. I haven't gotten much in the way of commissions yet, and I'm worried that I'm putting my family's future in jeopardy. Seeing so many other beautiful artworks centered on pets has doubt gnawing at my stomach.

It's so tempting in situations like this to turn everything into a test of fate. "If my portrait raises a lot of money, then I know I have made the right decision." or "If I get a lot of compliments on facebook, I know I can make it in this business." Everywhere I turn, I'm looking for confirmation that I haven't done the wrong thing, as if God or fate or luck is so concerned with my worries that I get special messages. It's superstition. It could also be considered logic; I'm looking for indicators of movement in the right direction.

At any rate, I'm going to keep telling myself that it's silly to hang too much on the amount of money my painting raises at the auction. There are many wonderful pieces, some much larger than the one I painted. A large number of beautiful items to bid on is a great thing; it will bring more money for the dogs and cats at the Humane Society. Besides, what will make my business work is effort, networking and marketing.

And I still could fail. I'm trying not to think about that, because if something doesn't turn around, I'll have to move my family back to Memphis and into my dad's house. The superstition kicks in again and has me thinking that if I don't succeed, then it's a sign that I am supposed to go back home and take care of my dad in his final years on this planet. When I'm thinking clearly and not fearfully, I know better. As tempting as living rent-free might sound, the reality would not be good. My father and I get along better in different houses.

So here's hoping that my painting gets big bucks at the auction, and that the other ones do too. It's such a good cause. It won't do me any good financially, but it will go a long way toward helping me keep the faith — not in God or fate or superstitions or even logic, but in myself. And I won't get anywhere without that.

On the restorative powers of a beautiful day, dogs and some paint.

My day did not start out as planned. After dropping off my child at school, I was to meet a friend at Panera for coffee and for weekly goal setting. We encourage each other and give each other a kick in the pants when we need it, as we are both unemployed at the moment. Well, she forgot and didn't show.

Then when I got home I checked the mailbox. The check that should have been there wasn't. Again. This is the second time a freelance check hasn't shown up, at least for me, and that's with two different clients. I had to have the first check recut so that I could pick it up in person. I hope it isn't too late to do that with this one because I need the money. But considering my bills never fail to show up, and bills and court summons for former tenants never fail to show up, I'm pretty sure someone else is getting those checks out of there.

I'm not mad at all about the Panera thing. This is a dear friend who would never stand me up on purpose, and she feels really bad about it. But the check thing is roasting my ass because I can't tell you how hard it has been the last week, when everyday requires some new purchase for some class for my daughter, and I literally have to check the account each time to make sure I can cover it.

(By the way, if her teacher is reading this, I couldn't swing the expo marker because they want to sell them in expensive sets. I'm sure others in her class are bringing in these sets, so that should cover my daughter's one. Deal with it.)

Anyway, I needed to turn my perspective around when I got home, so I swept off the patio and took my easel out there. I let my dogs out of the crate to join me. It's a beautiful sunny day in the seventies. Perfect.

Sirius and Luna have never done this before with me, and didn't quite know how to act. Luna discovered that veridian green acrylic paint tastes nasty. She didn't get enough to hurt though. She has been rellishing in the weather with me, laying right beside me. She was a Safe Harbor Prison Dog before we adopted her so she is well disciplined and knows how to act in situations like these.

But Sirius... oh Sirius. He had been discovered running out on the road by Animal Haven. They were unable to find his former owners, so he joined their dogs awaiting new homes. He lived outside in a tall wire pen. The staff at Animal Haven warned us that he is a fence jumper. They had found him several times outside his pen, not to run away, but because he had jumped over to another pen to play with another dog. Since we live in an apartment, this hasn't an issue.

The patio is going to be a learning experience for him. Each new whiff on the breeze has him putting his front paws on the railing. I can tell he wants to go explore the source of the smells. He longs to be Tramp in "Lady and the Tramp", but his mom doesn't seem to understand his needs and won't let him jump. The peanut butter filled Kongs only helped for a little while.

I'm hoping he'll learn to enjoy it with Luna, because I love having them with me. Most of my vitriol for the evil mailbox thief has dissipated for the moment. Optimism has returned. And my painting is loosening up, which is great.

Here's an update on the bulldawgie for Art Unleashed, along with pics of my pups. Don't worry, I'm putting in the darks right now. The painting will look beautimous by the time it is done, which better be by tomorrow morning or I'm toast.