Home

           They say home is where the heart is.

          My home is definitely where my heart is. Not everything I love is here, but what’s here, I love. I’ve got my handsome mountain man, who’s so kind and always attentive to what I need and want. I’ve got my critters. The dogs, the cats (both ours and the ferals), and the birds, whether they’re my Zebra Finches inside or the wild birds outside at my feeders, they all make this place special. On top of loving my critters, I feel a sense of responsibility to take care of them. No one can do that better than me.

          All of that to say, I don’t want to go anyplace.

          “All you wanna do is paint,” Mike said to me the other day.

          He’s not wrong.

          I don’t wanna go shopping, cook, do dishes, wash laundry, sweep the kitchen, take out the trash, scrub a toilet or two, but I do. I have a bit of an obsessive personality, but I’m sorry to say it’s not for housekeeping. When I find something I like, it is all I want to do. But I’m a grownup and do what I have to do before I give myself up to play.

          We did have to go out this week. Mike had to go see the vampires, as my handsome older brother David likes to call phlebotomists, in preparation for a regular health checkup. Since it was a fasting blood test, we decided to go on over to Wysox and have breakfast at a local dive afterward.

          There was a parking spot right in front of the door. Posted on the door, big as day, was a sign declaring, CASH ONLY!

          We don’t carry cash.

          Mike backed out of the parking spot and started to leave.

          “A check is cash,” I said before he pulled out of the parking lot.

          We really wanted to eat here.

          Mike backed up and pulled back into the same parking spot. Inside the door sat a tableful of working men.

          “Did you forget something? We saw you leave and come back,” one guy said.

          “I had to pick her up,” Mike joked and indicated me. “She was standing on the corner.”

          I left the guys to their jocularity and went to the counter. “Excuse me, do you take checks?” I wanted to make sure before we sat down.

          “No,” the lady answered. “I don’t take checks —”

          I turned to leave.

          “But I have an ATM machine over there!” she quickly added.

          “Okay, thanks,” and I walked away.

          “They don’t take checks,” I told Mike and pushed past him out the door.

          ATMs in places like this are usually owned by a third party and there’s a fee. We know of several other businesses in our area that don’t take credit cards. They don’t want to pay the points the banks charge.

          “We did so much more business when we started taking credit cards,” Mike said. “It more than offset the cost of taking them.”

          If you get a decent percentage rate from a bank, you’d only pay seven dollars for every five hundred charged.

          “They could add a few pennies on everything they sell and make up for it,” I said.

          We ended up going to another local restaurant we knew took credit cards. Mike got an omelet and I had biscuits and gravy. When we paid with a credit card there was an added fee.

          “At least I didn’t have to fool with a machine,” I said looking for the bright side.

          We left there and went on up to Sayre for a little shopping. I saw a hawk on a tree branch but it didn’t come out very well so I won’t show it to you.

          We went past the eagle’s nest and the nest was empty. I was surprised because I thought the eagles stayed with their babies all the time when they’re little.

          “Maybe the babies died,” I suggested.

          “There’s where we should’ve eaten,” Mike said as we passed Bishop’s. “We can stop there for lunch on the way home.”

          “We just had breakfast. We probably won’t be hungry,” I pointed out.

          “Can we get a donkey?” I ask almost every time we go past this place.

          “No.” He didn’t even think about it.

          We did our shopping and headed for home. This time, passing the eagle’s nest, there was an eagle sitting there.

          “Let’s stop at Bishop’s,” Mike said.

          “I’m not hungry,” I said.

          “I can try their omelets. I didn’t really get my itch for a good omelet scratched.”

          Who am I to deprive the man of an omelet?

          “Okay. I guess I can take my food home if I don’t eat it all.”

          Walking in, the first thing I see is one of my church peeps. We talked for a few minutes before we took a nearby table. Mike ordered an omelet — they serve breakfast all day — and I got fish and chips.

          When our food came, Mike’s omelet took up most of the plate! It was huge! And so was my piece of fish!

“This is my new omelet place!” Mike proclaimed after eating a few bites.

I didn’t think to take a picture.

          My food was good, too, especially the coleslaw, but I took most of it home.

          “Soggy fish warmed up in the microwave — yuck!” you say.

          That is yucky, and I’ve done it that way before. Usually, if I do, I’ll pull the breading off and just eat the fish. This time I warmed it and my French fries in the oven. They got crispy and still good enough to eat — definitely worth the extra effort.

          This week I participated in another painting marathon. Landscapes in Minimalist Style. It started Tuesday and ended Saturday. I spent two hours each of those days in front of my computer. I’m not crazy about any of the ones I painted but it surely gave me practice. The only real problem I had was in timing. The artist would paint a bunch of trees then come back and scrub out the bottoms to make a mist or fog. I was using a different paper and my paints were dried by the time she was going back to make the fog. I tried to rewet my paper and it didn’t work that well. It made a harsh line.  I could probably fix it if I cared enough to. I don’t. It’s practice. It’ll be fine. Flip the page.

The next one was another foggy scene. Once I caught on to what she was doing, I blurred my trees right away and the effects were better.

The next one was a sunset and in this one I learned you can’t take dark blue off of yellow. The bird in the mid-ground got too fat and didn’t look like a bird at all. I tried to lift him off and do it again, but it didn’t work.

And my trees reflected in the water? They were dry by the time she came back to blurring them and giving the water movement.

Flip the page and move on.

Friday, we painted a nighttime sky over mountains. I didn’t notice until I took its picture that I’ve got an eyeball nestled between my mountains. It isn’t as vivid in my sketchbook.

Saturday, we painted Cloudy Day at the Pond. My pond looks more like a canal, but, guess what?

          “Flip the page and move on?” you guess.

          Exactly! Boy, you are good!

          During each day of the marathon, they’ll say a ‘secret’ letter. When you enter the five letters in the link they send, it gives you an extra tutorial. It’s birch trees, so I’ll paint that tomorrow.

          The last thing I painted this week was Boat on the Beach for my sister’s birthday. She knows it’s in the mail so I’m not ruining any surprise by showing you. 

  

          That wraps up my week and this edition of Peggy’s Jibber Jabber. 

          Done!