A recent guest said my eyes look just like a cow’s. Not sure how I feel about it.

Now when I blog I’m watched.  Six dark eyes absorb my every move.  The eyes belong to three big cows I painted. I pat them on their noses, ask them questions, and admit, “Yes, girls….I am strange.”  Please don’t tell them, but I like Daisy the best. She’s the one on the left. She was the biggest stinker to birth.  Her face is my favorite.  For more on Daisy’s difficult birth please see my April 5th post, “Bovine Belly Aching.”

We had guests on Saturday night.  Friend JR, and his lovely date, Melinda, along with Melinda’s sister.  Melinda said Daisy, my painted cow, looks like me.  Huh….really?  I look like a brown/white/pink-nosed cow?  Marilyn said it was something about the eyes.  I admit I was wearing individual false eyelashes.  Maybe the thick lashes appeared bovine?

Putting on individual false eyelashes is a ridiculous vanity at my age.  I know, I know…so silly.  Eva Longoria told me, via some random internet wander, to put a blob of lash adhesive on a surface about five minutes before applying the lashes.   What surface?  Where?  I use a should-have-been-tossed-out-years-ago eyeshadow case.

I squirt the adhesive on the plastic lid, then go through the motions of manifesting my face, one clump of lashes at a tweezered time.

The “Girls” don’t watch this business. They live in the kitchen. My face gets manifested in the master bathroom.

But when I am up and prowling up at o’ dark hundred, ruminating about manifesting my future through the power of positive thinking, these “Girls” are watching me.  Daisy, Bossy, and Maisie gaze over our kitchen.  As they eyeball me they don’t seem to care if I’m with or without “war-paint.”  I like that they accept me as I am.  Which, when you think about it, they should.  Without me, they wouldn’t exist!

20170502_150511 copyDaisy is the little lady entering stage left.  She’s simply hoping to be part of the family.  Fat Maisie has shoved herself as close to center as possible.  Mother, Bossy, plays mediator between the kids.

Looking at Daisy’s eyes I don’t see any resemblance to the woman in my bathroom mirror.  Do you?

I need to crawl back to the feathers, but my head is filled with so many new insights.  Is it true our future reality already exists?  Will all I dream of come true simply because I believe it will? The girls bear witness to my reflections.  My most recent reflection, “Do I truly resemble a cow?”

Bats in my belfry and Cows in our kitchen

20170502_150511 copy

Meet the girls.  Left to right are Daisy, Bossy, and Maisie.  Daisy and Maisie are sisters, Bossy is their mother.  Do you see a family resemblance?  

I finally finished my enormous cow painting.  The canvas is five feet wide by four feet high.  These are some gargantuan animals.

I’ve been wrestling with these three beasts since before Thanksgiving.  Bossy and Maisie came together quickly.  But Daisy, on the left, eluded me. (For more about that see my April 5 post Bovine Belly Aching)

I got so frustrated with Daisy I hung up my brushes and moved on to other things.  However, last weekend was a community garage sale.  I paint in the garage so the herd needed to relocate.

The problem was Maisie.  She was greedily taking up way too much space. I refused to start over–I just wanted the damn critters DONE.

Jim had witnessed my dissatisfaction and made a suggestion.   “Why don’t you print out several copies and sketch the third cow. Maybe you can get the composition right.”

I should have thought of that. I was so busy slashing and burning, painting over the stupid creature, my brain was fried. I took his advice and did it one better.  I opened a  photo of the canvas in Photoshop and dropped a third cow into image, thereby making a useful reference.

At the end of the day I chose to have Daisy entering the scene stage left.  I then created the illusion of a bit more Maisie.  At long last Daisy, Bossy and Maisie live on our kitchen wall.   A neighbor asked what kind of cows they are.  I replied, “Pink Nosed Brown Cows.”

The little I know about cows I learned from friend JR Robertson.   He has a herd of White Park cows on his Missouri farm.  When we visited JR he put me on his ATV and took me to meet cattle.  JR wasn’t wearing shoes.  He hadn’t intended to climb off.  As we approached the cows he asked if I’d like to feed one.

You bet I wanted to feed cows!   In his stocking feet JR traipsed through cow patties to get food pellets.

This cow is named Panda.  Panda has a long slimy black tongue.  I’d hold a pellet out  and she’d shove her face into mine and glop my fingers.  It was kind of disgusting in a marvelous giggly way.

JR will be visiting us on Memorial Day.  I’ll introduce him to our brood.  Perhaps he’ll decide to add a few pink nosed brown cows to his herd!


Bovine Belly-Aching


I have been wrestling with this painting for months. Three cows on a canvas 5 feet wide and four feet tall.

What? You say you only see two cows? Well, look closely. You’ll see the ghost of number three there on the lower left hand corner.

They are a family. Mom, Bossy, is in the middle. The other two are sisters.  Maisie is on the right. Daisy is the ghost.

So far I’ve “killed” Daisy four times. Paint her. Hate her. Obliterate her.  Paint her again.  Hate her again.  Obliterate her again.  And so on…
Our garage has been a bloodbath. Whenever Bossy sees me approaching the canvas with my black paint loaded brush she trembles.  Meanwhile Maisie smirks.  Sibling rivalry being what it is, Maisie kind of likes Daisy meeting her demise on a regular basis.

I’m considering painting a tombstone onto the left side and calling it a day…”R.I.P. Daisy.”

I paint in the garage, thereby rendering half the space unavailable.  Jim has been enormously patient with my plodding pace. He buys into my lies that, “Art can’t be rushed.” Tee Hee. My bad.

This huge painting is destined for our kitchen wall.  The fact that I’ve not finished the painting is GOOD BECAUSE when I finally do complete the girls, we will enjoy them all the more for having waited. Yup. That’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it.

Now, all you peeps go have a very good nice fun filled and possibly cow filled day.

Time to manifest a shower. 🙂