What I've been doing while I've been present, feeling the presence.

Sometimes, apparently, I find myself in a blogging dry spell, during which time I have nothing to say. It is during these dry spells that I am thinking. Some people, who like to use big words, call it being "in a time of discernment."


While I do like big words, and funny words, and all kinds of words, really, I also might describe my times of discernment as periods of "correction." It's kind of like the stock market correcting itself. With me, I'm discerning whether I need to get off whatever wayward path I have ventured down, and why. When it comes to the Painted Groove career path, the discernment is required to determine the worthiness of whatever I have discerned to be my next step.


Or, as one who get kicks out of mangling the English language, sometimes I just need to "confirn" I'm on the right track. Now that I am emerging from my dry spell, I would like to confirn that I have nothing brilliant or life-altering to say. My developing humility may be bad for blogging.

During my latest time-out from blogging, I have been wrestling with how to organize my life -- again. My painted groove has been in transition. I thought, by this point, that I would be in a serious, smokin' groove, with a whole lot of creative time on my hands. During all this newfound creative time, I'd work like a demon. I'm all about the working. But then, my plans never quite work out the way I imagine they should. Should, should, should.

When my newfound creative time didn't become reality, I spiraled off on a tangent. Does anybody else do that? I'm a big tangent goer, from way back. So I've been whirling about, trying to figure out what went wrong with my plan. Then someone smart smacked me upside the head and told me that if I were to "be present" and practice the discipline of "living in the now." Then, somebody else smart said I needed to "be present" and "feel His presence." I didn't even know what that meant. How does that work with multi-tasking?


So I thought about that for a while, and here's the deal: The new plan is to "be present" for whatever it is that I am doing, for that time. And then when it's time for the next thing, or job, or requirement, or commitment, or insane request, I'm working on moving on to thinking about that.

Sounds simple, doesn't it? Only I just learned this radical concept the other day. How can you spend a lifetime not knowing something so simple? What that one very smart person told me is that "being present" or staying "in the now" is a "spiritual discipline." Did he mean that to be a challenge?


Ever since this very smart person told me about this "spiritual discipline," probably knowing all too well that I'm just the type to rise to the challenge if you tell me it's spiritual and a discipline, I've been thinking differently. If it is time to take care of my kids, I do that, and keep it within those bounds -- until it's time to think about art and painting.

LIFE SHATTERING!!! It's so effective. Break it up. Don't make everyone suffer through you reading bedtime stories while thinking about your next money-making venture. Your heart isn't in it. And EVERYONE WILL NOTICE! I'm not talking to you unless I need to be talking to you ... I'm talking to me.


Ever notice how your husband isn't listening to you while he's watching TV or working on the computer or driving or whatever? Can you imagine how that must feel to a little kid? Ugh. I cannot even imagine. I wonder how it feels to a husband when no one is "present" for him?


So never fear. I'm still working up creative proposals, and placing paint orders, and figuring out how to cover the walls of an entire entryway with the 23rd Psalm. I designed some flower arrangements, painted some furniture, transformed a little tiny powder room, in between and after making a whole bunch of peanut butter sandwiches, some pretty awesome carne guisada,
in between braiding some spectacular braided pigtails and getting everyone to soccer, softball and the informational meeting for the Washington, D.C. trip. Oh, and the emergency room. And, best of all, I can confirn that I am not yet insane.

I painted a painting that I loved enough to let people see. I don't even know who bought it. The title of it was "Control is Overrated."


Mary snapped this pic on the way to school one day. Poor thing. Now I have my daughter noticing clouds and marveling at the wonder of it all.

I got some really kickass shoes. And shaved my legs.

I enjoyed this sunset on my birthday. The air was dry and I was happy to breathe it.

There was a spectacular cloudview in Marathon on Sept. 28th.

I got to visit some mountains and combat evil all in the same night.

This flower arrangement really dresses up this nurses' station at Nesbit LRC. I still want to be a florist when I grow up. But before that, maybe I can get a job at Green Gate in the spring.
It's a garden center.

I saw this pillow while shopping at TJ Maxx/Homegoods. I have officially seen it all. You really want one, don't you?

So this is what I've learned and what I've been doing and what I've seen. In all my craziness. I am blessed.

Poor sheep, poor Piper, poor me ...

A look is worth a thousand words. What do I even need to say about this picture? Except that my niece is adorable. And her mother, the photographer, is a genius, or at least really really lucky to have captured this shot.

To answer the obvious: My niece is standing beside an oddly sheared sheep because (insert drum roll, please) ..... The mutton-bustin' is coming up at the Guadalupe County Fair & Rodeo, of course! And Piper and all her cousins are entered. Come on, really, it would be embarassing if they they took off out of the gate in their helmets and flak jackets, looking like little PBR bull riders, and fell off in two seconds. They need to make a decent showing. There's money or scholarships or maybe a savings bond at stake. Not to mention family pride. You can tell how well I have paid attention to the details, eh? Could this be any more redneck?

To get ready, Paw-Paw had to buy a sheep so they all could practice. I know, this really isn't what I had in mind for my precious, girly daughters. So I let loose a trial balloon to guage interest and they were totally excited. It stressed me out in more ways than one. I'll just leave it at that.

Laboring with love and lavender ...

I know I'm crazy, but I love long weekends like this, especially when we have family in and I spend the entire day cooking and cleaning up. It's so fun, and I'm not being facetious. Right now, The guys went to get a haircut, and somehow, my sister-in-law ended up taking three kids under five to Wal-Mart with her. She had volunteered to take her own, my nephew Pius, but then Catherine asked every so sweetly if she could go. When Caroline found out Pius was going, she could not be left alone...

And so I had to conjole a teenager to go with her just to help. Thank God Mar threw herself on the sword. And so here I am blogging, in silence. Carne guisada simmering on the stove. Beans in the crockpot. Mom on her way to help me hold it all together.

Yesterday, in preparation for the guests, we decided Bambi needed a spa treatment (aka bath). Don't say anything, but she was starting to stink.




Around here, we don't mess around. When someone needs a bath, we only use Hummingbird Farms Aromatherapy Lavender Body Wash No. 152, from Hummingbird Farms, of course, which you can find here. Maybe you've heard of it. :)

Really, we all love giving Bambi a bath, because then she smells so clean and fresh. But to be honest, she really isn't into it until she's all clean and fresh and wrapped up in a towel. See, here she's still looking pretty miserable. But Caroline and Caroline are thrilled with the progress. Also of note: See how their faces are so perfectly lit up, as in a studio, like I planned it. No, that's just the miracle of the sun coming through the window at exactly the right time.

Here, Caroline models the only bath care line our family will endorse.

Awaiting her air fluff, Bambi still resembles a drowned rat. But she's looking more perky.

And finally, she spent the rest of the day, lolling about ... all peaced out and smelling of lavender.

It's not easy being me

Oh ... I was going to do something really fabulous today, but instead I am killing time blogging because I read too fast for the stupid online defensive driving class. This proves, once again, that if something is designed for the masses, it will cater to the lowest common denominator.

Paige said the average person reads somewhere around a fifth grade level. I think I would agree, I suppose. I could have taken this class in half the time.

I don't do anything slow, I don't think. I walk fast. I talk fast. You should see me typing right now. It's fast. OK maybe I don't run fast. But I would if I actually wanted to run. But here's the deal: there is a story behind why I read so fast, despite my public school education designed for the masses.

It all can be traced back to good old Alpine Junior High School, where all my smart friends and I managed to learn something in spite of roaches and bats in the hallways and coaches for teachers. (ha! sorry if any of you read my blog!) Anyway, back in eighth grade reading, the students were divided into groups that rotated from station to station. One of the stations was a film projector contraption that flashed sentences onto the wall. The goal was to gradually increase your reading speed. Except that my group, a bunch of smart-alecs to be sure, would turn the machine up as fast as it would go. We were just challenging ourselves, and somehow we got away with this really bad behavior. We did end up being tested on our comprehension, so you couldn't go so fast that you couldn't read it. We did all want to make As, you know, even though we were above-average juvenile delinquents.

The moral of the story? Or, where am I going with this? This is at least one very good example of how goofing off in school pays off. I am a super-quick reader now all because of the silliness of me, my best friend Kim Elliott, Jeff Stump, Mark Poteet and I think maybe Jimmy Kim.

All of which brings me back to my online defensive driving course that is keeping me from my super-exciting StucoLux installation. I do still have a decorative painting business. But today, it was forced to take a backseat to me trying to avoid a warrant for my arrest due to the ticket I got for allegedly speeding in Del Rio. And if I can't drive without getting thrown in jail, I can't very well run a business that requires me to drive.

Tomorrow ... back to my StucoLux brilliance. Wish me luck.

Recommendation for your next adventure ... if you're brave enough!

Imagine this blog post as part review, part scary, scary ghost story. I'll let you decide which. Come with me to Laredo, where there is a creepy old complex of buildings and patios that have fallen into disrepair. Even they admit it is an "overwhelming maze."

At one time, it was a bustling store, chock-full of treasures from Old Mexico: Mexican rustic furnishings, old doors, religious folk art, primitive antiques, trunks galore. Now, bustling is not a word you would use to describe it, but it is a scavenger's paradise.


First, you have to call ahead and someone will open it up for you. Kind of makes you feel special: who doesn't like to be "VIP"? But what are you walking into? A trap? So far, I've made it out alive. Once you're inside, you have to venture past the first room to find the good stuff ... if you're brave enough. You must wander from room to room, inside and out. But watch out! A lizard may scare you half to death. A random worker might pop out from behind a door. Where did he come from? Prepare to sweat.


I made it a point to watch for snakes. I mean who knows: It's Laredo. And hotter than hell, and dusty. Weeds were growing among the iron pieces. There was an old truck from the thirties or forties, like my Papa used to drive on the farm. The merchandise is stacked on top of each other, and hung from the ceiling, much like Rafael's in Nuevo Laredo used to be, back in the good old days. And, apparently, as in Mexico, the prices vary according to the mood of the proprietor and her assessment of the buyer. All that being said, aren't you intrigued? Would I even tell you about it if I didn't think it would make for an interesting adventure, where you just might find the absolute most perfect treasure you've been seeking for years?

For example, you never know when you might need a stuffed buffalo head.

I first discovered Oscar's Antiques about six or seven years ago. My brother had come upon it one day and called me from his cell phone to tell me I'd better get down to Laredo and check it out. So when my friend Kelly and I owned McQueeney Market, we went down there, and actually bought some things that we sold in our store, and other stuff that we bought for ourselves.

Flash forward six or seven years and a few kids later, my friend Wendy and I figured out how to get there on one of our trips down to Laredo looking for pieces for her nursing home remodel. It's still there, only now, given the ailing condition of Laredo because people are too scaredy-cat to venture that close to the border (big chickens!), you have to call a number (956.723.0765 or 956.723.7785) and the owner will come open the store for you. To get there, put 1002 Guadalupe St., Laredo, TX, 78040 in your GPS. I couldn't tell you how to get there because I've never gotten there the same way twice.

I thought these would make fantastic porch lights.

This piece of folk art was one of my favorites. Check it out: there's a guy on his deathbed, a couple of priests giving last rites, a crying wife, angels and devils. Pretty creepy. I really need that painting ... as a reminder, perhaps?

I loved the patina on these old doors. Wendy bought one of those oxen yoke things and it's hanging on the wall in Nesbit Living and Recovery Center, as art.

They have all kinds of angels and santos.


Tucked back in the corner ... do you see those wooden Our Lady of Guadalupe carvings? Look past the cliche Mexican rugs, next to those charming monks.

At Oscar's, you get the feeling that the primitive antiques might actually be antiques. At all the other Mexican rustic places, you know they're just made out of pine and then distressed. I always wonder where the stuff came from, whose house it was in, or whose house was torn down for the old doors and shutters ...

This set of old doors still includes the hardware and the door jamb. It's just sitting out there in the hot Laredo sun, being baked to death.

Loved these old rusty lights.

More doors. I like the ones with interesting color combinations like these with greeny blue and mustard yellow.

Outdoor statuary and pots.

This old cabinet would be great for extra storage.

I spied this table hanging from the ceiling. What a great island it would make in a kitchen.

See, I told you there were trunks galore. But what do you think is inside the trunks? Curious?

Seriously, the woman who runs Oscar's is very nice, and very accommodating. And I can almost promise that you'll be fine if you go there. I know you'll have a great time and you can't go without finding something you just must have.

In praise of progress ...

I can see the top of all of my desk. And for this I am very grateful. Now I can continue onward toward more interesting & profitable ventures, such as painting and completing creative proposals for eager clients.

But one recent development that I'm very excited about is a new retail outlet for pieces of my painted furniture. Finally! In the very near future, you'll be able to find my painted furniture, specifically vintage and antique pieces, at Back Alley Antiques, in Artisan's Alley in San Antonio. Stuff like this, some of which you've seen before:



A favorite piece, sold in an auction and now living out its sweet little life at my friend Marty's house. Lucky table.

This little chest couldn't make the trip to Back Alley. For one thing, it's not an antique, or even vintage.

It used to look like this:

But Wendy at Nesbit Living & Recovery Center had faith I could do something better with it. See, now it is very happy living between these two chairs, holding business cards and brochures. I get to go by and say hi whenever I go up there.

As far as antique stores go, Back Alley is great because the entire store is merchandised like a real store, rather than an overwhelming antique market maze with rows of vendor booths. Those tend to make me confused and annoyed. And God knows I don't need any more reasons to be confused and annoyed.

I painted a set of four ladderbacks with alternating black & camel-colored ostrich. Really fun.



This is a re-purposed find ... half of a table to be exact. I think it will make a great quirky side table or entry table piece. I still have this one and think I may add a little more glitz before it hits the market.

This is a great antique china cabinet I painted a while back for a client. I may not get this crazy at Back Alley, but you never know. This job called for some outlandish thinking outside the box.

I want to paint using some lighter colors, more beiges, maybe some blue or gray, ala Wisteria ... so I'm eager to get into my studio and see what I can whip up. And use the StucoLux product from Faux Effects. I know that's going on a table top asap. StucoLux is the next thing I'm going to become obsessed with ... but you'll have to wait for that because I can't find a photo ...

I'm still looking for another location somewhere around the state ... maybe Houston's Urban Market, so if anyone has a suggestion ... I want to hear from you!

5 Things I Love Today

Ok I know today is Sunday, but this is a list of what really blows my skirt up:

1. Being organized, getting organized. Neatness. That's why I have been such a crazed maniac for the past week. There has been no neatness. I live with four other people who apparently are not interested in the same things as me. And my favorite person on earth just went her own way to find another job. sniff, sniff. Pass me a tissue.

2. Getting stuff done ... GSD. Nothing makes me happier than a lightbulb being put in the light in the pantry.

3. When my honey-do list becomes a priority. This is just plain sexy.

4. The disappearance of clutter. Over accessorization has begun to make me nuts. It is just so unnecessary if it doesn't mean anything to you. If it's something important from an interesting trip or makes your soul happy when you walk by it, great! If not, if it's just filling the space above your cabinets, it's going to make me insane.

5. The thought that tomorrow, Monday, August 24th, will find ALL my children locked safely away in school for the rest of the year. And while they're gone, I can continue to GSD ...

I don't have time to blog. I love it, but let's face it, I can't tell you something fascinating every day, unless you all pitch in and provide me with a salary and benefits. Since that's highly unlikely at this point, I've changed my racing mind.

Since I cannot WOW and inspire you every day, and make a living too, and since I tend to ramble anyway, I'm going to just go with it. My new plan: show you what I'm working on, tell you about the my intriguing world where art meets construction, and mix it all together with my Obsession of the Day. The best part: It won't take me so long!!!

At this point I bet you're wondering about that fabulous graphic at the top of this blog post. Well .... I was cruising around on http://www.royaldesignstudio.com/, looking for some cool stencil letters for a client. And there it was. This totally awesome new stencil I had never seen. It's an allover stencil, which means you put it "allover" the wall. It's called Indian Floral, and I'm in love with it.

You'll be seeing this again. I can just see it with the little flower troweled on with some sort of texture like Venetian plaster .... ok. Back to work looking for stencil letters.

A death grip on my basket

I said when MY kids started kindergarten I wouldn't freak out. Weepy mothers are so cliche'. I dropped my basket when they turned one, but only because I realized I had been a zombie for an entire year. It was all about me, not related to the fact that they were getting older and growing up too fast. Since then, they keep getting older, and I've only had a few scattered times when I was creeping toward a basket-dropping wipeout. Luckily, I've been able to recognize it and head it off at the pass by spending some reflective time alone, out of the fray that is our normal, everyday world.

We went to West Texas. We know the way, and we can enjoy mostly free accommodations. It was the natural choice. And, there's always more to see.

Last week, I took some time with one of my bestest friends ever, the one who gave me the verbage "dropped my basket" in the first place, and my other favorite person in the world, my oldest daughter. (Hint: everybody is my favorite. If I'm talking to you, you're my favorite. Each one of my daughters is the most beautiful girl in the world, depending on who's in my lap). Anyway, we took the plunge to take some time away, at the most inopportune time, and with not a lot of funds to fund the time. The intention was to take some time away, spend some time together, see something new, and restore our creative energy. I have therefore not dropped my basket ... yet.

My oldest daughter, who is 14, actually had a good time with a couple of old broads who can be pretty silly and who really like to share their wisdom, according to us, such that it is. She did not jump out of the car, she saw some new things, she did not complain, and she actually started reading a book. Mission accomplished!

My daughter is the master of self-portraits. Notice: she's smiling!

I realized that the funny thing about time is: you have to take it. Steal it. Be really really greedy with it. You'll never get it back. It will never be a better time.

We went to two baseball games. Go Big Bend Cowboys!

Then, it was back to the real world. A world in which my husband works in the mortgage indusry and my painted groove is dependent upon construction and remodeling and extravagant purchases. These are challenging times. But seriously all you can do is get up everyday and go do what it is that you do really well and be fair to people. So far that been a very effective policy. The days go by and all is basically well. It also could be so much worse.

So the moral of the story is, despite all of this, I have a whacky sense of peace. All the trials and tribulations make my sweet little babies going to school (and our nanny who I love like one of my own going her own way, too), seem manageable. A stressful distraction. Diversion? I have faith it's all good. Apparently, this is what faith is all about. It's easy to have faith when life is gravy.

You won't find any gravy around here, but we have lots of love and faith. Oh my gosh, but there's so much freedom in that -- if you can get past the fact that current circumstances are kind of scary and not real luxurious. So I'm smiling, teeth-gritted, with a death grip on my basket.

Not all fun and games ...

Three quarters of the way through my work day today, and after the toilets backed up and the A/C was barely adequate, I slipped in some mysterious water. It looked pretty much like on cartoons, where the feet fly out to the side and the body crashes to the ground.

In my case, I slipped in the water, my feet flew out to the side, to the left to be specific, and my glasses went flying, breaking into two pieces. The glamorous young working women in treacherously high-heeled pumps in the accounting firm did not see this spectacle, thank God. There I was busting my ass ... wearing oh-so-fashion-forward Crocs. And a gray-green Old Navy t-shirt. Not glamorous by any means, even if they were to envy my free and creative life. They looked better.

So I fly into the air, once my feet left the floor. And seconds later I crash onto my right hip onto the Saltillo tile floor. It is Saltillo tile laid in a brich patter, in case you're wondering. I'm happy to report that my hip did not crack or break, so I'm taking this as a good sign that my bone density is OK.

Now that I'm home and have had a glass of wine, strange aches and pains are beginning to creep in. My left ankle hurts, as well as various other places, including my left hip, which makes no sense. I'm wearing my sunglasses, so that I can see. You know, because my regular glasses broke into two pieces. I have been jarred, I tell you.

Just wanted y'all to know that this painted groove of mine is not near as glamorous as you might imagine. No complaints ... I'm just saying.