one of those overlong catch-up posts

Very, very behind on my posting, sharing photos, etc. SO WHAT. At this point, the only one who cares is Grandma.

These are from Easter weekend, and a long walk at Lemoine Point.

Don't stop. Don't ever, ever stop.

Goofballs.

C had to carry various stupid branches (for Oona) around half the park.

There are two deer in there. Can you see them both?

How about this one? Hint: the deer is not wearing a red jacket.

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These go back even farther: Prince Edward County, sugar shacks, ducks, sheep, goats, madness, death.

Watching watching always watching don't even think about it.

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And then: more Oona art. DOES IT EVER STOP? Well, no. Because the voices emanating from the invisible pyramid won't let it. Also: goofballs.

Hello, Crazy Witch. How are you today? Are you here for the souls?

Look – it's jungle fever. On your head.

It's a pretty flower. With an awful, awful eye in it. An eye that never sleeps.

The Wise Man. With sticks for hands. And a penchant for dressing like Maude.

Would you like a present, dear princess? I made it for you! And it burns!

EASTER EASTER EASTER

Sail away with me. I'll need you for when my supplies run out. So I can eat you.

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Enough of that. WHAT ABOUT ME? I thought blogging was supposed to be an exercise in unfiltered narcissism.

It's depressing how little account I can give for myself. I have been getting ready for the Spring Chicken show this Sunday, May 4th, 11-4. I'll have cigar-tin stories, little widows and weimar art party stuff, all of it original art, and all of it between $20 and $60. I even got proper bags this time! Come on down and give my display a cold, despairing once-over before stomping off in a screaming rage. Fun for everyone!

Aside from the group shots, these are all details or close-ups.

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glamour, by extension

C is friends with the fashion stylist Rebekah Roy (left in both pics above) ... one of those people who personify calm and smiling success. On her blog she presents glamour in this very sincere, straightforward way ... whether she's taking pictures of people on the street , talking about stain removers , her favourite videos , or attending some glittering party . One minute she's ruminating on hair extensions, and in the next she reveals how she's been featured on the Vogue UK site. A real disarmer and charmer (and this without meeting her yet, although I feel like I know her because we both did our time in Winnipeg). * * * * * Coming home from Russia, we did many bad things. ; mixed media on canvas, 10 x 10 inches. In my own life, the glamour is wholly imagined. * * * * * witches, smoke ; mixed media on canvas, 10 x 10 inches. My second go at this one, and for some reason I'm painting a lot of smoke lately (note to self: tell C that I want to be cremated). *

the indisputable weight of the ocean

People are always telling me that my work is too dark. So I've put up this sunnier story, but even it has a shadow, as its original publisher – a fine Atlantic Canadian literary magazine called the Gaspereau Review – is no longer in business. ---------------- It was a simple enough thing and that thing was simply this: Edmund Kelley was a gentleman. Of course his mom called him her 'little gentleman', as in 'Oh Edmund, you are my perfect little gentleman,' which did seem to hold to a certain logic that these type of things often follow, considering her affection for him and the fact that he was, after all, only ten years old. Still, Edmund himself was not particularly fond of the diminutive aspect of that title. Gentleman was enough; gentleman summed up the whole thing rather nicely, thank you. He was definitely a more refined version of your average child. He lived in a state of perpetual Sunday m

Oona Balloona (doesn't care about new tables)

Well, it's Friday, and since I'm pretty depleted in the chit-chat department, I might as well put up some pictures of Ol' Giggles At Ghosts before Grandma starts sending me hate mail. Man, what a goofball. At this rate it's going to be, like, eighteen years before she has gainful employment and moves out of the house. I mean, come on . * * * * * C is especially crazy and frantic today. About two months ago she decided that she no longer liked our dining room table (take that, dining room table! no more BFF for you!). Since then she's switched the dining room and kitchen table (and all the rest of the furniture in the house -- about thirty times, but that's another story) as a provisional solution while she scoured area stores for an upgrade. And she thought she had found one, on Wednesday, at JYSK ( Whatever , I said). But when she ordered it, JYSK called back to say that they were really low on stock, and that the stock they did have was damaged, and

red-handed

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