Posts Tagged ‘ regina ’

Woman Wins More Than Expected

Wednesday, January 30th, 2013

 

My Friends The Art Girls At An ‘Early California Plein Air Artists’ Art Lecture, With Wine And Cheeses

Here are the players in this little drama.

Sue is 85 years old, in the blue shirt . Carol is also 85. She is third from the left.

One Art Day, Sue came to visit us at Carol’s Ranch on our regular Thursday Art Day. Sue put her open purse on the ground to give us all hugs.

Carol’s big brown dog Roger, came over and peed inside the purse, spot on the photo of Sue’s recently dead husband. Sue had brought the nice photo of the man to show to us.

Sue is going alone on a trip with singles to Vietnam and other far places. She astounds me. She is probably going to ride racing camels and hungry alligators before she gets back from her travels.

Regina who is facing the camera right up front, is going to Beijing, China and India. A few months ago she went to Romania and came back with the Raging Runs.

We think she is very brave to go to India and China! Especially since she is racked with allergies and even chokes on wiffs of air. Beijing is known for it’s lethal smog. We tell her to wear thick masks and to take very small breaths.

Carol has recently traveled the world and wants to stay home now and eat cookies for awhile.

Susan, in the pink scarf, flies off to England every other month to look after her 96 year old daddy.

Me? I prefer to stay  cozy at home. Although I do travel to The Other Side a lot, and I guess you can give me travel credit for that?

It’s a great cloudy day today, a real *Plein Air day for sure, with wind and streaks of color across the sky and trees modeled against it like swinging ladies’ arms. (more…)

Dead Man Talking

Tuesday, February 28th, 2012

I’m asleep when I realize I’m having a dream within a dream.

Bruce is here and he’s talking to me.

Bruce is dead.
I know he’s dead and I know in my dream that he is dead. He tells me he has some messages that he wants me to give to his wife, my friend and art painting partner, Regina.
“Why can I talk to Bruce when I can’t reach my mother,” I hear myself whining at the bottom corner of the “dream.”

My mother died over a year ago and I have had little contact with her since.

Bruce died five years ago, when he was fifty, after a ghastly run with colon cancer.

It was a long run. He had been a handsome, strong, vital man. A brilliant man. We were friends.

Toward the end of his life he lay like a waxen, hairless skeleton on his couch. I sat beside him in a chair and rubbed and soothed his bald head. He told me if he could change things he would never have had chemo.

When Bruce was in hospice and hours away from dying Regina called and asked me to go into his head and tell them what he wanted. He was restless, she said. He desperately wanted something and he couldn’t talk.

(more…)


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