Tuesday, March 7, 2017

Charming Deception, Through the Portal by Carol Ann Kauffman



Chapter One
Confusion


Okay, where the hell am I? What happened to me? The last thing I remember is… nothing comes to mind. Nothing looks familiar here. I turn toward the window. It’s dark outside, cloudy, not a star in the big, black sky. The room is dark. I’m naked in this big, comfortable bed. Judging from the smell of the lavender scent on the perfectly ironed, high thread-count sheets and pillowcases, I’m either in a very high-end luxury hotel or in one of Martha Stewart's guest rooms.
 A snore interrupts my thoughts. Apparently, I am not alone. I glance over at the noisy lump beside me. Nope. Don’t recognize him. There's a very strong possibility that I've been teleported back to the free-loving sixties. I get up quietly to go to the bathroom. A glint of gold catches my eye from the ring finger of my left hand. I'm married? Oh, shit! When did this happen? This isn't the sixties. This must be Vegas, baby. I creep quietly into the bathroom, close the door, and snap on the light. Definitely a hotel. Plain, antiseptic bathroom. Martha Stewart's guest bathroom would have scented candles and a sense of style, hospitality, and luxury. And not so much white. White walls, white floor, white towels, white shower curtain. A rather bizarre-looking attachment on the faucet, and another one on the showerhead. I look at the mirror. I carefully touch the mirror to make sure it was a real mirror, not a…what? What else would it be? Oh, God, I’ve gone mad. I peer into the mirror.
Yikes… well, I give that bony lump sleeping beside me credit for marrying me when I look like hell. Good grief, he must be a total loser. I examine my dull, spotty complexion, wild Einstein hair, and the bags under my blurry, bloodshot eyes. My head hurts. I check myself for bruises, scratches, and sore spots. No, nothing. Well, at least I wasn’t attacked. So, what do I tell that Bony Lump?
‘Hey, Bozo, whatever happened between us, it was just some bizarre mistake. Gather your things and get the hell out of here. I'll contact my lawyer to annul this fiasco as soon as I get home. Now go!’ Then I’ll point to the door for dramatic effect. Oh, yeah, that sounds good.
As soon as I get home. Home? Where is home? I can’t remember. I look back at the reflection in the mirror. I can't remember where I live, or how I got here. I can't remember where I work, or what kind of car I drive. I can’t remember my name. A…Amy, Ann…B…Barb…Bebe…C…Cianna… Carrie…Carol, no.
Hmmm. did Bony Lump drug me? Did he drug me, take advantage of me, and then, marry me? No, why would he do that? That makes absolutely no sense. I wiggle the beautiful gold wedding ring with a large brilliant cut diamond in the center. Weighty. Expensive. Good fit. And… slightly familiar. Oh, look, a little tan line. Now, how can that be? This has to be a dream.
I snap off the light and creep silently back into bed.
Oh, crap! That might have been my last chance at escape if this lump beside me is a kidnapper. The sooner I go back to sleep, the sooner I’ll wake up, and this bizarre dream will be over. D…Diane…E… Emma …F…Franka, no G…Gigi… H…Helen… I… J…Janie…K… Katie…L…Louisa… M…M…Marie…Mena…Mmmm.
Bony Lump rolls over and pulls me to him gently, hugging me, patting my shoulder.
“It was just a nightmare, my love. I'm right here. You're safe,” he whispers sweetly in a sexy, sleepy voice. “Go back to sleep. You’re safe. I’ll protect you. Always.” He kisses my head gently. He has a wonderful voice. British accent. Kind. Reassuring. Gentle. Loving. Very touching.

So, what else could I do but fall asleep in his arms, with my hand on his just-hairy-enough chest, breathing in his familiar scent.

Monday, March 6, 2017

The Art of David Hockney



David Hockney.  I had seen his paintings before and liked them, but I never associated his paintings with his name, until flipping through the channels one morning and seeing a segment on him and his work. This particular segment had to do with his new works that are done -- wait for it -- on his iPad instead of a canvas. 

Wow, what a great idea! No muss, fuss, or mess to clean up. This guy is really on to something.




This painting to the right is one of his iPad works, called Purple Calla. It is lovely in it's composition and use of color, it's attention to detail, and the fact he did it on his iPad.
I have trouble drawing a neat box or decent circle around something on the iPad with my finger or a stylus.


 David Hockney is an English painter born in 1937. He has been in his live a set designer, a draftsman, a photographer, and a printmaker. He was part of the fabulous Pop Art movement of the 1960's and is considered to be one of the most influential painters of the twentieth century.





This is my favorite David Hockney painting, A Bigger Splash, painted in 1967 the old-fashioned way, with acrylic paint on canvas with a brush. I love it's clean lines and uncluttered essence, it's highly realistic style and his vibrant use of color.  If I could have painted half this well, one quarter even, I would have stuck with my Art major and been happy as a clam. Are clams happy? How do we know?



The panel above it a copy of one of fifty canvases of trees that are part of a giant wall collection called Bigger Trees Near Water, painted in 2007 and on display at the Tate Gallery in London. It depicts the forested area where David grew up in Yorkshire, England, between Bridlington and York. 

Nothing here is my own and I claim nothing. Info from wikipedia and his artist website, hockneypicture.com where there is more information on his life and his outstanding works of art.

Sunday, March 5, 2017

Schedule for March 6 - 10, 2017

Mon., March 6 - The Art of David Hockney   
Tues., March 7 - Charming Deception, Through the Portal
by Carol Ann Kauffman
Wed., March 8 - The Art of Hilary Eddy
Thurs., March 9 - Shelby's Gift
by Mary Jane Morgan 
Fri., March 10 - American Glassmaster Dale Chihuly

Thursday, March 2, 2017

Dying Thoughts - Second Sight by Joey Paul




Join Tara in the second book of the Dying Thoughts series as she faces new challenges. Tara Leverton has a ‘gift’. Up until recently it has been kept a secret from everyone. Things have certainly changed. For one, Tara has a best friend, Kaolin. For another, Kaolin, her dad and the police know about her ‘gift’. She’s got the chance to help them solve murders – actually make a difference, one that doesn’t involve doing homework on time. When tragedy strikes can Tara be the eyes seeing things that no one was supposed to see?




Biography

Joey Paul is an indie author, exploring the young adult crime genre. She has released nine books in total so far, with two more due out in the summer of 2017. Her current works include the "Dying Thoughts" series, and she is planning to start writing the last book. She usually writes crime and mystery fiction, with a paranormal twist, but she has been known to dabble in contemporary romance and general fiction. She is writing her fifteenth and sixteenth books at the moment, having recently finished her last two.

Joey is disabled and a recent graduate from The Open University with a BA (Hons) in Health & Social Care. When not reading medical textbooks, she enjoys reading crime novels, medical dramas and young adult novels. When she's out and about, she likes looking for Tupperware in the woods with GPS satellites, otherwise known as geocaching. And when she's not doing THAT, she's sleeping! She's 35 and has been writing since she was retired from her job on medical grounds at the age of 19. She plans to write for as long as she has ideas or until someone tells her to stop!







Amazon Link:

'https://www.amazon.co.uk/d/Books/Dying-Thoughts-Second-Sight-2-Joey-Paul/1505412900/ref=sr_1_7?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1488060649&sr=1-7&keywords=Joey+Paul