If Ever You Doubted

that I descended from monkeys, take a gander at this! Yes, it's a direct scan of my left hand and I am appalled. Just call me Monkey-Paw.

(Guess I should just wear mittens 24/7 though it's not the best answer for South Florida.)

I scanned my hands because I need them for reference for a drawing. I tried setting up a mirror but it was tres awkward and still needed a right hand that I couldn't draw as a lefty. So here is the scanner, here is my hand, I thought I was a genius. Then I scaled them down to the size I needed in Photoshop and printed them out. OMG. These are older than even my mother's hands. Do they do hand-lifts anywhere?

Do you know any women who wear wide chokers when they hit 'that certain age', thinking it hides crepe-y necks? Or worse, turtlenecks year round?

Did I tell you about my pedicure last week? The girl asked me if I wanted a wax too, and I couldn't understand her since one of the perks (loosely used term) of ageing is that my legs no longer have any hair. But she pointed to my ankles which looked like those of a hobbit in flip flips. Yes, hairy ankles and feet that I have not seen because my eyes don't go that far unaided! No, no wax, thank you very much dammit. I went home and took care of it myself and my grooming will now extend itself back to the extremities. I still don't have hair on my legs, and I'll roll up my pant leg to prove it.

So next in a fit of neatness and order (and admittedly procrastination) I decide to dump my spam box because I've been ignoring it so well for a long time, and there it is-

viagra, veAgra, Viaghra, Vzlagra, Vfiagra all the ways one can possibly spell viagra. WTF?

Last night I stayed up extra time to finish 'Just Kids', the bio written by Patti Smith about her relationship with Robert Mapplethorp back in the 60's and 70's. It kept me reading but it was hard to follow both their paths to becomeing artists. She kept talking about her poetry and writing, and Robert's assemblages and collecting. She dropped every name that was anybody during that time frame, and suddenly at the very end of the book she is a rock star and he is taking photographs though she hadn't seen him for years. There was sort of a missing void of all the stuff that came in between. Interesting, but the characters were isolated and not developed very fully- there was never any insight into how they think, instead it seemed that passivity ruled and they sort of went through time waiting for incidents. I think one of my problems is I read it on my iPad so didn't have any pictures which I am sure the book must have had. Oh well. Like I said, I didn't stop reading, just wish it were meatier, and pictures would have helped some. But hey, truthfully I don't remember the 60's much either. Ahem. And that's a Good Thing for all concerned.

I showed up at the studio at 8 this morning and re-arranged the backdrop for the portrait quilt I'm wrestling. It's loaded with pins and I have to now get it off the wall and onto the table so I can start the handwork. Imagine trying to add a drape that of course has to be flat yet LOOK like it's, well, draped. Now imagine that I must applique down every fold and crease so I can sew on top of it- and that's where I stand right now. I need to get it done so I can move on to the figure AND HER HANDS. Everything does have a sequence, everything does have a reason- the problem is that sometimes I practice foggy logic. Makes sense to no one and it's frustrating when no one understands when I try to explain. So thank you dear reader (singular) for showing up once in awhile.

And now I must go stir the primordial soup.

(you can tell that's not really me because her hands are nice and soft and smooth.)