Friday, March 27, 2015

"March Hammock, Pecos, NM"

acrylic on watercolor paper, 8 x 8", $400

Thursday, March 26, 2015

Sunday, March 22, 2015

Friday, March 20, 2015

"Near Abiquiu, NM"

acrylic on watercolor paper, 18 x 24", $1000

(click image to enlarge)

Friday, March 13, 2015

"SE Facing Sierra Negra"

18 x 24", acrylic on canvas, 2015, SOLD

Friday, March 6, 2015


acrylic on masonite, 16 x 20", 800.00

Friday, February 27, 2015

Friday, February 20, 2015

Friday, February 13, 2015


acrylic on canvas, 30 x 24", 2001

Happy Valentine's Day!

Friday, February 6, 2015

"Carrizo Peak and Vera Cruz Mountain"

acrylic on watercolor paper, 18 x 24", 900.00

Wednesday, February 4, 2015

A quote from my friend Mickey truer words.

Food for thought......Hemingway once said ...'The most painful thing is losing yourself in the process of loving someone too much, and forgetting that you are special too.'....let me take a moment to express my thoughts on this very complicated subject.. ....You can put so much love into a relationship, marriage or even family members and still fall into this terrible stigma...You get treated the way you teach people to treat you...Once they know that they can treat you badly, and even disrespect you and yet still get kindness and affection in return, they will use this against you as long as you let them...If you are being wronged and abused by anyone, it is time to make some changes in your life...Once you get away from this type of treatment, after some time , you will look back and not even believe that you let yourself be treated that way...There are lots of cruel narcissistic people in this world that are self centered and very selfish, and only out for themselves ,and they will take advantage of you until you have nothing left...If you are in this situation away as fast as you can and don't look back, because no matter how hard you try and how much you want to believe in them...they will NEVER ever change.....

Saturday, January 31, 2015

January 31, 1967

Happy Birthday, BL

Friday, January 30, 2015

Friday, January 23, 2015

Monday, January 19, 2015

Friday, January 16, 2015

"Blue Heron"

acrylic on canvas, 24 x 18", 850.00

Friday, January 9, 2015

"Perfect Tree in Twin Parks, Winter"

acrylic on canvas, 20 x 16", 800.00

Wednesday, January 7, 2015

January 7, 1974

Today marks the 40th anniversary of my move to New Mexico.

My then husband and I drove a ’67 Chevy Impala and a ’62 Volkswagon w/sun roof into Santa Fe in the early evening.  He carried the plants in the VW and I drove the kids and cats.

From the minute we left Texas, it was difficult, weather-wise.  We experienced horrible winds from Dallas to BigSpring, then rain and tornado warnings to Lubbock.  We spent that night with my grandmother.  It was a brief respite, however.

The next morning we were delayed a bit by sleet and high winds, but we managed to leave Texas shortly after an early lunch.

The snow began within the first hour of driving.  It was blinding.  

My brakes gave out in Santa Rosa and I had to use the emergency brake to stop.  We were delayed again with the repairs….. and then we drove on in the snow, sleet, rain, wind and more snow.

My husband finally pulled over and put the chains on the Chevy on the side of the highway.  Huge semi-trucks were flying by us!  He was so cold; we in our Texas coats, laughable now.

We started up again and drove through more snow.  Right before the turn off to Old Santa Fe Trail, my husband pulled over to the side of the road, again.  He walked over to me and said, “Rosebud (the name of our VW) has died.  She can’t make it”.

I screamed, “Tell Rosebud we are almost home and to get going!” and he got in the car and it started right up!  We drove into town in the most snow I think I have ever seen.

But we made it!

We slept that night on the floor of a house we’d rented a month before, with some blankets because our furnishings/belongings were stuck somewhere in Texas, in the snow.  I will never forget the smell of piñon wood burning in fireplaces, all over town.  The night sky was pink and the snow came down in silence.  

I was home.

Saturday, January 3, 2015

...and those who DO know but choose their own rendition of YOUR life (because they can't handle the TRUTH!)!

Thursday, January 1, 2015

Happy 2015!!!

"New Mexico Pedernal", acrylic/paper, 2013, 12 x 18", 450.00

Monday, December 29, 2014

Bathroom Adoration

I had a fascination with public restrooms as a child.

When I first became aware that they existed, I would beg to go look at the bathroom in whatever establishment we were in.  I must have been tiny because I can remember always wanting to “see the bathroom” and whining to everyone until they would let me look.

Some of the times the excitement was in just locating the bathroom.  It was like an Easter Egg Hunt, in a way.  Where could it be?  I loved to explore at an early age.  This was true in restaurants as well as people’s houses.  First thing, I headed for the restroom!  I liked the doors, too, with their little skirted cutouts, stencils, painted girls, etc.  The boys door was boring in comparison.

My mother became so tired of my pleading (and probably a little embarrassed) that she began to not allow me access to any bathrooms, forcing me to sit still and behave for at least the first hour.  She made me urinate in our toilet at home before we left the house.  She knew I didn’t “have to go” for a while.

I would fidget and make life unbearable even though I’d been warned to not discuss the bathroom until she said I could.  I remember singing “row row row your boat” over and over until my mother would BEG me to go to the bathroom.  I had this hangdog look that said, “PLEASE, purty PLEASE may I go see the bathroom?” that I wore continuously.  My mother would try hard not to look at me and when she did, she’d get so angry even though she knew I was going to behave in that manner.  Why not just let me go see it and be done with it?  Sometimes I asked her that question.  That usually created an even bigger problem so I didn’t ask too often.  I could read her like a book!

My mind would create what the bathroom of that particular store or gas station, restaurant or movie theater would look like as soon as we walked in the door.  Were the sinks shiny?  What color were they?  What did the wallpaper look like?  Were there any little pretty chairs?  Was the bathroom carpeted (those were my favorites but not many in public restrooms)?  Did it smell nice (and I shunned the dirty ones)?  Oh, my imagination was so full.

I knew which “stops” were quick and which ones we’d be in, longer.  According to my perceived allowed time frame, I would fake, very loudly that I simply had to go pee, “PUHLEESE!”  IF there were people with us, or a “worker” (as my mother referred to them), she would acquiesce, because she knew I would not back down in front of them.  If no one else was with us, I knew to wait a bit longer until the last possible moment.

I realized that a loud wailing voice about how much I had to pee was more effective than a small voice.  She wouldn’t dare punish me in public and by the time we got back home, it’d either be an elm tree switch “spanking” or she wouldn’t talk to me for days.  Big deal.  I got to see that bathroom!  It was worth it.

What fun I had crawling under the stalls to lock all the doors, or taking all the toilet paper (I began doing these semi-destructive things at about age 10).  I loved the one-holers because I could lock the doors and stay in there as long as I wished.  That never went over well.  Eventually my mother would notice I was missing.  She always knew where to find me, too.

One day, I got over it.  I don’t know when that was.  I DO appreciate a pretty bathroom to this day, but it is no longer my focus.  It’s purely a utilitarian visit.  

I do like the fancy sinks and toilets these days, though.  The glass sinks are the best!

Friday, December 26, 2014

Friday, December 19, 2014

"Nambe Snow"

oil on canvas, 1989, SOLD

Tuesday, December 16, 2014

Sunday, December 14, 2014

Friday, December 12, 2014

"Closed for Winter"

acrylic on watercolor paper, SOLD

Friday, December 5, 2014

Wednesday, December 3, 2014

Tuesday, November 25, 2014

The epitome of my family

Scapegoating is a form of abuse and bullying that occurs in 
the one place you should feel most safe - your family.  

Friday, November 14, 2014

"Summer Ending"

acrylic on paper,  12 x 18,  $500

Thursday, November 6, 2014

Friday, October 31, 2014

"Back Door #2"

acrylic on canvas, 12 x 9", $600

(click image to enlarge)

Friday, October 24, 2014

Friday, October 17, 2014

Friday, October 10, 2014

"Blue Spruce"

acrylic on canvas 12/2013
48 x 30"

Friday, October 3, 2014

You know who you are!

I've found that some people have a need to see you in a bad light.
Even when they are wrong.
They have a NEED and yours isn't to wonder why!

Friday, September 26, 2014

"Seattle House"

acrylic on canvas, 9 x 12", $600

(click on image to enlarge)

Friday, September 19, 2014

My friends ARE strong women.  I won't settle for anything less.
My friends DO NOT tear each other down, period.

Friday, September 12, 2014

Friday, September 5, 2014


Acrylic on board, $750.00

Wednesday, August 27, 2014

Pretty LOW to steal from an artist!

SOME people will steal from anyone!
The sanctimonious, "generous" ones, 
the liars and cheats, taking, taking, taking
and never giving back.
Those who feel the NEED to tell you
how to feel, think and be,
while they purposefully go about
setting you up so they will look better;
using your most soulful secrets as collateral.
I've had ENOUGH of them
to last a lifetime.

Friday, August 22, 2014

Wednesday, August 20, 2014

Friday, August 15, 2014

"Kent's Boat"

Acrylic on watercolor paper, 12 x 18", $550.00 ( not framed)

Friday, August 8, 2014

Different Strokes

He had this way of sucking, down there, that happened in a climax before I realized it.  And, it caused an almost instant orgasm without any foreplay, whatsoever.  It made me break out in hysterical laughter, too, at that very “moment”.  A whooping, loud, embarrassing laughter.  It was completely involuntary; tribal and earthy.   I shocked myself!  I couldn't stop it!

Right away there was an immediate body switch, after the fact, so fast, it made my head spin.  

Because then, apparently it was his turn.   No time for me to languish in the moment.  Oh no.  I dutifully went to work but no amount of anything “did the trick”.  

Eventually, I had no more pucker.  I muttered “sorry” and went to sleep.  Or pretended to.

But, I wanted more.  I felt very unappreciated.  At least a little body contact would have been nice, and maybe a hug or kiss.  It was not to be.  I got quick pats on the back and a gentle push away from him when I tried to get intimate by actually touching body to body.  So, that was the end of that!  I could feel the distance.

I felt weird about so many things between us but the fact that it was the same modus operandi, EVERY SINGLE TIME; the hysterical screaming laughter, the ineffectual “payback”, and deep sleep, led me to believe that this was going to be as good as it got. My body ached to be touched so much and what was up with that?? I broke it off with him. 

I saw him at the grocery store several weeks later.  He was as nice as he could be.  He talked about the cost of cereal and I couldn’t look at him.   I shuffled on down the juice aisle.   I felt embarrassed.

About so many things.

"Beloved Cottonwood"

acrylic on watercolor paper, 24 x 18"
commissioned painting (7/14)

Friday, August 1, 2014

On the eve of my birthday, I am alive and well and always hopeful.

Last year was a very good year for me.  I am so very thankful for all my blessings, my friends, my grandchildren and for Zora, my dog, and Alice my cat.

I love where I live and where I am in my life.  My struggle isn't as heavy or as large as in previous years.  I feel at peace and very grateful.


Friday, July 25, 2014

Friday, July 18, 2014


“Are we going to have to go through this again?”, I asked, incredulously.

“I saw you scoop up the poop and throw it on the cacti in the back of the yard, again.  Don’t you know it is killing that cacti; the poop never disintegrates!” Uproarious laughter from evil, skinny neighbor ensued.  He, the ULTIMATE environmentalist with a Prince Valiant haircut.

“And it is going to smell so awful this summer!  Why do you think people use poop bags?  Why do you think we pick up the poop and put it in the trash?  Why don’t you just let me pick up MY dog’s poop and leave it alone!?!”

I was standing about two feet away from him when he suddenly reached out and pointed his bony finger one inch from my nose, and growled, “Because it is in my work space!”, jabbing, pointing right in my face!

In two years, I’d never ever seen him in his “work space”.  We share a backyard, unfortunately. He was referring to the back of the yard where he has hoarded a small pile of wood and broken junk.  Since no one ever went back there I taught my dog to poop in that area  (about 15 feet away from the “pile”) so it wouldn’t bother anyone. 

I buy “compostable” poop bags and they are not cheap.  Two poops (two days) is certainly not bothering anyone and especially when it is in the back of a big yard (fence line).  Even when everything was frozen this winter he was out there throwing poop on the cacti, until I suggested he give it a break, it was WINTERTIME!  I wasn’t going to pick it up daily!  I’ve never known anyone so needing to control and using dog poop as a means to coerce me, push me, force me to pick it up right away or else.

When he jabbed at my face, I instinctively tried to grab his finger, missed and then pointed back at his face saying, “Don’t point at my face, don’t you ever point at my face, you jerk!!  What the hell are you doing?”  I looked right into his eyes.  He actually snarled at me, raising one side of his upper lip.  All this over dog poop.

“I am NOT a jerk!”, he screamed.

“Yeah, you ARE a jerk!”, I screamed back.

“I am not a jerk and your name calling is over the top!”, he said again.  And I started the think the guy was nuts so I walked back to my house about 20 feet away, he screaming, “Where are you going?”

“I don’t talk to jerks OR assholes” I yelled back and slammed my back door.

A few days later he tried to stare me down as I was leaving the driveway.  

All this over dog poop. 

Tuesday, July 15, 2014

Friday, July 11, 2014

"Santa Fe Reservoir"

pastel on paper, 17 x 21", 1988, sold

Friday, July 4, 2014

Tuesday, July 1, 2014


I first saw it on Dr. Oz.  He told about the great health benefits of eating Quinoa.  He showed the spelling of it and I jotted it down quickly.  I vowed to go to the co-op and see if they had any.  So chocked full of protein and great for the body, it was an ancient grain revived anew and  I wanted to try it.  I was sure I would love it.

I put only a few items in my grocery cart as I searched for the Quinoa.  I had no idea where it would be located and/or if I could get it in bulk.  I wasn’t really sure what it looked like other than resembling steel cuts oats.  I searched and searched, to no avail.

One of the workers at the co-op saw my bewildered look.  He came over and asked if he could help me.

“Yes”, I said, assured and loud, “Do you have any ‘Quinnoah’?”

He hesitated and politely asked, “Ma’am, did you mean keenwah?”

“Did I SAY ‘keenwah’?  NO!  I said ‘QUINNOAH’”, I rudely retorted.

He apologized and asked me what it looked like and what it was.  I became agitated because they’re supposed to know more than I do!  I don’t work there! I explained that I knew it was an ancient grain and lots of protein, and good for you, but not much more than that.

“Ma’am, that would be ‘keenwah’”, he smiled sweetly and handed me the box with QUINOA written on it.

“You can say ‘keenwah’ and I’ll say ‘Quinnoah’, because that’s how I like to say it”, I snarkily replied.  I picked up the box and marched to the cashier.

As she picked up my “Quinnoah” box she said, “We also have ‘keenwah’ in bulk if you’re interested”.

Tuesday, June 24, 2014