Little Painty Spider

Little Painty Spider.
Your Mum and sibling
Escaped
To the white expanse
Above,
With its artexed craters
And valleys, to hide.
You though
Didn’t realise the
Yellow
Roller was coming your
Way…nor did I. Then.
Too late.
Nevermind. You are now
Truly part of the
Décor
As your kind have long
Hoped for.
Gone but not forgotten.

Little Painty Spider

Image: http://naturemoms.com/blog/2006/05/30/natural-ways-to-get-rid-of-spiders/
spider

Too many cooks in the kitchen (decorating again)

Teamwork.

Things

get a little…

fraught!

Ta Dah!

Home
from holiday –
my beautiful daughter
who likes her room.
RELIEVED

Don’t change the day job!

Dust sheets and ladders,
paint and paste,
wallpaper, masking tape
try not to waste
the paint at the bottom –
of tin or of tray,
rollers and paintbrushes
use what you may.
My DIY task
is now almost done
just need to use
the mastic gun.
I try not to fire it
in the wrong place
‘cos we all know
it’s more speed less haste!
Oops that might be wrong…

Anyone seen the tennis balls ?

2.8.13
We are busy decorating. From inside the room we hear a thud and then a slapping noise – these sounds are repeated five times at regular intervals. A while later I go into the hall intending to fetch us both a welcome drink and at my feet lay five soggy-looking tennis balls most are covered in grass and leafy material. Through the open door to the garden I see Rosy Posy looking expectantly towards me, her tail wagging furiously behind her. She chases after the balls that I chuck inaccurately around the garden – one hits her on the nose, a couple of them land on the garden table and bounce off again. She doesn’t mind, she would happily do this all afternoon – unfortunately we have to carry on with the paper-hanging. Later we take her for a walk along Yaverland beach and she returns with…a tennis ball that she has found left abandoned in the sand.

Blanking the Canvas

Painting 
over imperfections,
papering over cracks,
appearances can be very…
reassuring!

A balanced view

“He’s up there with nothing on.” My Mum adjusts her glasses; in fact she takes them off and gives them a good wipe with her apron. I lean over to see what she’s on about. It’s the man opposite – up a ladder on the flat roof of their bay window. A nice but very reserved prison officer, I wonder what he would make of us two women peering out at him while he is obliviously getting on with the task at hand.
It reminds me of someone once who nearly fell off a ladder as I walked by many, many moons ago. Mending a fence with his mates he was and, as a fireman, used to ladders with the sure-footedness of a mountain goat. All in all, worrying but still rather flattering nonetheless.

Previous Older Entries

I didn't have my glasses on....

A trip through life with fingers crossed and eternal optimism.

Prattle & Snap

photography, craft, nature

creativity in motion

Blog of Registered Board Certified Art Therapist Gretchen Miller, MA, ATR-BC

quizzabella

Tabby Cats Are The New Black

RJI Photography: Blog

Fleeting impressions seared into my soul...tiny pebbles tossed into the surge

Gypsy Kiltbomb

American by birth, Scottish by injection.

The Clutter Removing Erythrocyte

Organizing & Decluttering tips anyone can do. Free DIY yarn & paper patterns to make personal, custom storage.

ghostmothwords

Short stories by Emma Brown

Inion N. Mathair

TWO VOICES....ONE THOUGHT

Kindness Blog

Kindness Images, Videos, True Life Stories, Quotes, Personal Reflections and Meditations.

Wuji Seshat

Selected Poems

poetry by skull

The Musings of N. E. Skull

Twinfamy

the epic blog of a father of twins

Pennsylvania Alliance for Clean Water and Air

Dedicated citizens fighting to protect our most valuable resources.

ann johnson-murphree

Artist, Writer of Confessional Free Verse Poetry and Fiction

Being Margaret

A lighthearted look at life on any given day

Clarity

Art is our home. This door is open, always, to all, and yet permits not the entry of draft or rain. The doused may find solace, and repose, in the warmth of this hearth. For the sparks of these words - the spectres conjured by its incandescence - are a family whose love is unconditional, and will ever blaze, kindling within us the faith to weather these tempests. The ashes may then be scattered upon the winds - to ignite the lost, and unify our souls as one, in unquenched illumination; to be the light which guides us home, through the darkest of eclipse.