Waiting Game

I have now officially passed my due date. I used to cringe with pity for all the women who went past theirs. I felt for them but yet was secretly glad that both of my boys were early, like I was turning my assignment in on time. Yep, it’s payback time. I have cried wolf over four times on four different nights. I’m beginning to think that I don’t have any idea what I’m doing.

I can’t help it but I am longing for the land of “normal” people….well, ones that don’t have an acrobat dealing karate chops to their organs from the inside. There’s an exclusive bottle of Rivers Marie (obtained straight from the proprietor, Thomas Brown, who Bobby went to UVA with when we were in Napa in May, of course, I was pregnant then too) waiting for me to sip. There are my “big” clothes that I am actually looking foward to slumping around in without PANELS, there are little boys of mine who can’t wait for mom to stop huffing and puffing from just walking up the steps, there’s sushi, did I mention the wine?…..there are all of these cute butterfly baby clothes laying around looking lifeless. And I want to meet this little girl, now.

Transplant

Hmmm…

Still waiting on baby girl………..Merry Christmas!

Blue Ridge

Carryall

I don’t know what’s with all of the Sunkist orange these days…..I’m really thirsty all the time and I can’t drink OJ anymore that must be it…..

View

Composition

I wish someone had told me that pregnancy was sexy right now…man, I am almost done and I didn’t take advantage of my “baby bump” accessory. Ah shucks, I could have been living it up…..I just read about the lovely lady lumps in Brain,Child’s Winter issue. Dang!

Kitchen Raid

Just in case you have been wondering what do those Fullers do at home on a chilly snowy day?

Jamie’s ” island sculpture”, homemade playdough, macaroni, bamboo skewers, birthday candles and toothpicks (fancy kind). This is what happens when your mom is an artist.

MFA, BFA, Everyday

I went to James Madison University in Harrisonburg, Va to study art twice. Once as a naive 18 year old and once as a naive 28 year old. Well, let’s say, I wasn’t AS naive the second time as I was as an undergrad. Both times, I learned the most with my printmaking professor, Jack McCaslin (of course, I was not studying printmaking either time, isn’t that always the case, you learn the most from the off the beaten path places…I know Jack would appreciate that).

I remember thinking that after my first degree I knew enough…right? A degree in painting and drawing is an instant stamp of “she knows what she’s doing.” How wrong I was….what I did learn was style. I learned how to be comfortable with my “Beth” art. Technique….well that, I have finally learned that comes everyday. It comes with messing up a lot of stuff (perfectionist ways be damned), trying new things, repeat, repeat and rinse….I used to tell my students that the artwork they “see” done by famous painters and artists is usually their “best” work. No sloppy copies….man, those sloppy copies, I love em’….those artists who we love, have a million balled up mistakes, things they painted over and over with the forgiving gesso.

I feel like I am getting somewhere after a stall. It’s exciting. I just found that I love Derwent watercolor pencils….how did I NOT know about those? I do have to say right now (until this little Anna comes) my newest love is Golden Regular Gel Medium. What can I say, I’m easy to please just like a kid with a new box of crayons. And I think I have definitely mastered those.

Red Cross

Barry White, who me?

We’ve been watching old videos from Christmas last year and it always bothers me when I hear the sound of my own voice. First let me say that I have the very grainy voice of an eighty year old woman with a 2 pack a day habit. Doctors used to think that I would lose my voice at any minute due to the “strain” on my vocal cords (there’s none)….people used to say I’d be good for nighttime radio (and other phone in things, if you get my drift) if I’d just smooth and mellow it out a bit. All of this, so interesting because to me my voice does not sound like this AT ALL. I remember being horrified to find out when I was a kid that it was my voice that sounded like a foghorn. Oh goodness, who is that? Oh, it’s me.

Once when teaching swimming lessons as a teenager, I remember a child telling me that I sounded just like Baby Bop. Having never seen the show, I had no idea what she was talking about. About 10 years later, I am babysitting, I see and hear Baby Bop, it’s not pleasant. It hits me….I do not have the voice of Disney’s Ariel but Barney’s little sister. Yikes.

Wish You Were Here

Nesting

Slight of Eye