Patty Falconer--Painter of Pups and more

I met my friend, Pat Falconer, around four years ago when she was working as a sessional proofreader in my office.  I liked her immediately. She was funny and smart, and pretty soon I found out she was also this awesomely talented painter.  Please forgive the terrible pictures, which don't do justice to her work, but I wanted people to see some of her paintings because like a lot of artists, Patty doesn't have a website.  

Pat specializes in paintings of animals, and mainly dogs.  As you can see, her portraits capture so much of the spirit and nature of the animal she's painting.    

love this one--part of a triptych

Cherubim 

These are the "Sistine Chapel" dogs

one of my favorites

Patty is mad about Italian Greyhounds.   She's volunteered for the Italian Greyhound rescue group here in Austin and has two of the little charmers, Sally and Bobo.  Here's Bobo in action: 

and Sally

Pat did some amazing opera-themed art some years ago.  Here's a tiny bit of that work:

Patty's house is beautiful and filled with her wonderful work and her amazing collections of art, ephemera, and objects.

Patty, surrounded by books and art.

My pictures don't do justice to her home, either!

More recently, Patty has been drawing and painting chickens, turkeys, rabbits, and pigs.  I think it's her way of

drawing attention to the plight of the domestic animal.  In her drawings, these creatures are seen as handsome, noble, and even regal.    

During the last legislative session, Patty taught herself embroidery so she could create a large wall hanging of all the proofreader pets. This is a detail of the piece:

Pretty amazing, eh?

If you've ever wanted a great portrait of your pet, you should definitely contact Pat Falconer. If you'd like to learn to draw your pet, Patty teaches a "Draw your pet" class at the Art School of Laguna Gloria, Austin Museum of Art. 

Look what we made!

I'd been wanting to replace our bookcase/tv stand/ugly cart audio/video situation since we set it up.  The problem was finding something we liked that we could afford.  That turned out to be a problem that took about 2 1/2 years to solve.  I kept looking on Craigs list, at thrift stores, garage sales, used furniture stores, and even at Ikea.  Then, while I was perusing a book on 60s built-in furniture I got the idea of building a simple console on legs.  Morgan and I sat down and I showed him what I wanted, and we figured out what the optimum video viewing height was, how big the inside of the piece needed to be, and the leg height.  I found the 12" legs online.  And last weekend we started and finished the project.  Morgan did a beautiful job of building it from furniture-grade pine.  Then we sealed it with shellac which is harder than poly urethane and has a nice finish. 

 (Did you know that shellac begins as a resin secreted by the female lac bug on trees in India and Thailand?   It's processed into flakes and dissolved in denatured alcohol to make liquid shellac.)

Here's the finished piece, doing a fine job at what it was created for:

  

Whinging about affordable good design

There's a certain period of design between roughly 1945 and 1965 we refer to as "mid-century modern."  "Mid-century modern is an architectural, interior, and product design form that generally describes mid-20th century developments in modern design, architecture, and urban development from roughly 1933 to 1965.  The term was coined in 1983 by Cara Greenberg for the title of her book, Mid-Century Modern: Furniture of the 1950s, celebrating the style which is now recognized by scholars and museums worldwide as a significant design movement." (from wiki) 


 A high school chum in the late 60s lived in one of those iconic split-level ranch houses, built in the mid 50s, with Bertoia Diamond chairs (http://www.squidoo.com/Harrybertoiadesigns) on the patio, Saarinen's Tulip table (or a good reproduction) surrounded by Eames fiberglass Eiffel chairs in the kitchen, and the most beautiful modular sectional I've ever seen in the den.  All of this surrounded by wood, glass, and concrete,  resting on a big, heavily wooded lot.   I loved being in that house and I'll always remember it.  My friend's parents weren't wealthy.  His dad was a retired college professor,  his mom a public school teacher. That house, combined with my mom's 60s decorating magazines and the movies of the 50s and 60s I grew up with, instilled in me a love of modern design. 


A 40's bungalow or a 70s tract house will never be a modernist house, no matter how much Saarinen, Jacobsen, Eames, McCobb,  or Bertoia furniture is scattered about.  I was reminded of this when looking at the beautiful experimental Case Study Houses.  Commissioning major architects of the day,  Neutra, Ellwood, Eames, Soriano, Saarinen, etc.,  Arts and Architecture magazine sponsored the design and build of "inexpensive and efficient" homes for the U.S. housing boom caused by the return of millions of soldiers after the end of WWII.  The program ran from 1945 until 1966. 
http://www.eichlernetwork.com/fnc_steel.html 

All those fabulous furnishings I love were meant to inhabit these houses.  That doesn't mean I don't like seeing mid-century modern pieces in houses built in the 20s or the 70s, but as I discovered in my last house:  a few pieces of well-designed furniture cannot overcome a really badly designed house!   Now it seems that pieces from the 50s and 60s are virtually impossible to find at an affordable price.  What I'm seeing far too much of are blogs and magazines showcasing a lot of things that all look the same.  The really great stuff is far too dear, and the rest of it looks like Ikea or Crate-and-Barrel-do-modern.

The zealous over marketing, and accompanying overpricing, of all things "mid-century modern" is hateful, but there's nothing to hate about good design. (I am getting bored with a certain look, though--sort of an Ikea meets DWR thing--and am trying to find a new look to love.)  One of my issues is that good design is not really affordable, except by the often rather disposable Ikea route.  And let me say, I have the ubiquitous Ikea Malm (http://www.ikea.com/us/en/catalog/categories/series/07468/) bed and a big expedit (http://www.ikea.com/us/en/catalog/products/80071357) shelving unit.  They were useful, inexpensive, and expedient purchases, but if I had it to do all over again, I don't know if I'd choose that route. Ask me in 15 years.  We'll see how the stuff holds up.   I prefer buying stuff from garage sales, Craigs List,  and thrift stores, but it's hard to find substantial, well-made pieces anymore, unless shopping is all you do.   


 And, can someone tell me, when did people get this idea that they needed to replace perfectly good pieces every few years?  My parents bought good furniture and lived with it until they died.   Redecorating was a new coat of paint.  By the look of it, people seem to think they need a houseful of new furniture every few years, "...doesn't go with our new decor."  How many times have I seen that in a Craigs List post?  


 Advertising and marketing have really done a number on us.  We all seem to like the same thing and right now it's "mid-century modern" and its ilk.  I'm still going to throw a few wretchedly beautiful old bookcases with peeling paint into the mix.    

A few good links:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ErBGq6ZA-2U

http://www.modusmodern.com/

http://www.amazon.com/Mid-Century-Modern-Furniture-Cara-Greenberg/dp/0517884755

http://midcenturymodernist.com/

http://www.bluffton.edu/~sullivanm/index/saarinen/saarinenindex.html

http://www.loc.gov/exhibits/eames/

http://www.arne-jacobsen.com/en/arne-jacobsen.aspx

Tuesday's chemo kicked my ass!

I'm not sure why, but my reaction to the Adriamycin/Cytoxin treatment Tuesday was noticeably worse than the last one.  I was careful to hydrate myself thoroughly before, during, and after treatment, but I was bloated and felt nauseous Tuesday and Wednesday, even when I took the nausea meds I didn't need to take after the last treatment.  The headache didn't seem as bad, and I was able to sleep a great part of the day, which was a great blessing, as was having Lauren and Patty to take care of me.  Thank you, ladies!  

Well "they" say you feel worse cumulatively.  Only one more of these A/C bad boys to get through. 

Morgan and I are getting more comfortable with the routine of treatment.  I know when I'll feel crappy and will need extra help, and when I'll feel like doing things.  Our kind and generous friends are keeping our fridge full of healthy and delicious food so that's one thing my overworked husband doesn't have to squeeze into his tight schedule.  I'm able to keep up with the household chores, although admittedly by lowering my standards somewhat.   And with all the rain we've had lately, my plants are thriving.   

I thought perhaps I wouldn't turn into a puddle of wasted muscle and flab if I could somehow get myself to exercise, but the chemo makes me really heat- and sun-sensitive so I wanted to find something I could do indoors.  Then it occurred to me that people buy exercise equipment all the time and then stop using it.  I decided to see if anyone had an exercise bike I could borrow for awhile.  Sure enough, Patty had a beauty of a recumbent bike she was happy to temporarily part with.  Yes!  It's now parked under the ceiling fan in my office/studio, where I can listen to music or watch a movie on my laptop.  Tomorrow I'll be hopping back on it for a merry little ride.  Today I'm resting and reading Sarah Waters, The Little Stranger, a gothic novel I started last night at 2:30 and couldn't put down for 2 hours.  Yummy.

Fuzzy headed

Being bald certainly isn't the worst part of having cancer.  

Morgan shaved my head Friday, August 20,  because I was shedding like a cat in June: hair on my pillows, hair on my clothes, hair in the sink.  I wanted to avoid hair in my food.  Ew.  I have two wigs but it's way too hot to wear them, so to protect my head from the sun I wear a hat outside and a bandana when I'm going somewhere, which is mostly to doctor appointments right now.  I'm currently revisiting the post-chemo slump week in which simply walking down the hall makes me feel tired.  

 I used to take things like brisk morning walks for granted.  Can't wait to be able to do that again!  I also can't wait to be able to spend all day making something, working in the yard for hours, painting a room, working on the chicken coop, going on a road trip, hiking, camping, or simply going to garage sales on a Saturday morning.   Right now I spend long hours with books, cats, and my laptop, looking out the window at the birds.  I seem to have about 2 good weeks out of the month and even on the best of days I must be careful not to do too much.  I choose one activity instead of 3 or 4.  Going out to dinner is going out to dinner and coming home and getting in bed.   I'm hoping that when it gets cooler I'll be able to do more outside.  I'm looking forward to the cool mornings when I can go for little walks around the neighborhood.  I love to watch the way the light changes from summer to fall.  I'll be able to sit outside on pretty days and lie in the hammock and read when I'm feeling logy.  Life is made of little moments.  

My hair hurts!

You know that feeling right?  Like there's an invisible force field pulling all the hairs on your head so that your scalp hurts.  I read that when your hair starts to fall out the scalp feels very tender.    (Yes, indeedy, but why does my head hurt and why do I feel nauseous?)  Tomorrow the head will be shaved!  


Last Friday I had a wreck and the car was totaled.  I'm ok, but my sternum still hurts like crazy.  (I took some Hydrocodone last night, which is probably why I woke up nauseated.)  Morgan has wanted a Prius for years, so we found one on Craig's list and bought it on Saturday.  It's a 2009 and pretty fabulous--super quiet, rides like a dream, and handles beautifully.  It might as well be a Mercedes in my book.  It's 85% recyclable!  The parts that are usually plastic in cars are made from plant-derived ecological bioplastics made from the cellulose in wood or grass instead of petroleum.  


On Monday, I went for a checkup with the breast surgeon.  She aspirated my breast and drained 80cc of blood.  Needless to say, it feels better and is less swollen.  


Tuesday I'll have my second round of chemo and Morgan's mother arrives to take care of us for a week.  It will be nice to have some mom tlc for awhile.  They just know what to do, those mothers.  

The chemo port has been installed!

Yesterday I had my chemo "Power Port" installed.  The port was placed under the skin, just below my collar bone. 

 Wiki describes this device and procedure more effectively than I could : "The port consists of a reservoir compartment (the portal) that has a silicone bubble for needle insertion, with an attached plastic tube (the catheter). The device is surgically inserted under the skin in the upper chest or in the arm and appears as a bump under the skin. It requires no special maintenance and is completely internal so [showering and] bathing are not a problem. The catheter runs from the portal and is surgically inserted into a vein (the jugular vein, subclavian vein, or the superior vena cava). Ideally, the catheter terminates in the superior vena cava, just upstream of the right atrium. This position allows infused agents to be spread throughout the body quickly and efficiently. 


The septum is made of a special self-sealing silicone rubber; it can be punctured hundreds of times before it weakens significantly. To administer treatment or to withdraw blood, a health professional will first locate the port and disinfect the area. Then he or she will access the port by puncturing the overlying skin with a 90° Huber point needle although a Butterfly needle may also be used. (Due to its design, there is a very low infection risk, as the breach of skin integrity is never larger than the caliber of the needle. This gives it an advantage over indwelling lines such as the Hickman line.) Negative pressure is created to withdraw blood into the vacuumized needle, to check for blood return and see if the port is functioning normally. Next, the port will be flushed with a saline solution. Then, treatment will begin. After each use, a heparin lock is made by injecting a small amount of heparinized saline (an anticoagulant) into the device. This prevents development of clots within the port or catheter. In some catheter designs where there is a self-sealing valve at the far end, the system is locked with just saline. The port can be left accessed for as long as required. The port is covered in a dressing to protect the site from infection and to secure the needle in position."  Thank you, Wiki!


The reason a port is recommended is because the substances injected into the veins for chemotherapy are quite toxic and are very hard on one's veins, not to mention the discomfort of numerous needle sticks for chemo and constant blood draws.   The chest is an ideal location because the veins are large and carry more blood which helps to dilute the the toxic drugs.  The procedure is simple, fairly quick (about an hour) and in my case was done under local and "twilight" (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Twilight_anesthesia) anesthesia.  


Surgery started at 8:00 and I was home by 11:30 with a prescription for Hydrocodone (Vicodin).  Thank you, Dr. Abikhaled and the nurses and staff of Central Park Surgery.  


After Morgan brought me home from surgery,  Laura M. arrived to insure that I did not do injury to myself while still under the effects of anesthesia.  She made me lunch, got me juice, helped to unload and load the dishwasher, and kept me entertained until time for Morgan to come home.  Laura, you are awesome! Sweet Stella dropped in to drop off her beautiful casserole made from Boggy Creek Farms organic vegetables and to chat. Stella, you are a gem.  Then last night, Joel and Angela came over and  brought dinner to us from Curra's (Yum!).  It was great to hang out with them, even through a vague Vicodin haze.  And today, Angela the amazing, is returning to vacuum the floors, mop the kitchen floor, and do a couple of loads of laundry.  


I've been the grateful recipient of so much care and love.  This week I was cheered, fed, and well-cared for after my first chemo treatment by Michele, Finn, Edmo, and Kat, and Lynda brought me her wholesome, healing  Matzah Ball Soup.  Thank you, dear ones.  Morgan is the wonder-husband, always by my side, loving me, fretting over me, caring for me, and making me laugh.  If you want to do something for me, ask Morgan what he needs.