what is your super power?

When people least expect it, like right after some serious thing has been discussed
and the room has fallen to silence, I blurt out, "So, what would your super power be if you were a super hero?"

One young girl at my shop said she could see really well in the dark, and I congratulated her on a pretty darn cool and useful (stalking) power. But, she said it wasn't cool enough and that she'd have to think about it and get back to me.

I think Bipolar Betty's power would be to make anyone fall desperately in love with her at will. She'd have to bat her eyelashes three times or snap her fingers in their face. Or it would be this....Oh oops, can't tell you what it was. But now you are in love with her and you can't help it, right?
Here are some new Betty cards now up in the Etsy shop:

Roz The Builder

Oh and I was a construction worker for Halloween. In case anyone missed it, I also sent the following "ad" to a few of my near and dear. (Yet, only one was actually interested in purchasing the item.)

New and improved Roz the Builder comes with all the
necessary accessories to be Ready and Fashionable on the
job site!

- pink hard hat (includes Union Pride sticker!)
- safety glasses (safety first, kids!)
- tool belt (hammer sold separately)

Buy now and receive a coupon for Roz the Builder matching
pink kubota loader!!

Push her bellybutton and she will say one of three phrases:

- "That dirt won't dig itself!"
- "I am not a construction worker, but I do play one in the bedroom."
and
- "Take this job and shove it!"

It's fun for the whole family!

when one more might break you

Trips to Portland never disappoint.

That one sentence really says it all, and I wish I could leave it at that.
I envy the type of people who, when I ask them how something went, they email
or say something so literal and void of description that I respect and loath them all at once. Short. To the point. And you can't whine
about how they didn't answer your question.

Just because someone doesn't flap their hands around, employ dynamic voice fluctuations and/or a sea of smiley face emoticons and exclamation points, while elaborating the emotional weather report for the entire trip and trips before that, doesn't mean that they didn't enjoy themselves. In fact, the way I read it is that they are only faking that they enjoy me. And they want to torture me. It's a test, I think, just to get me to ask: "Doesn't disappoint, how?" "Did it disappoint on a previous occasion?" "What music did you listen to on the way up?" "What color were the trees?" "Was it raining?" "Did you, at any point in the day, embarrass yourself in some grand way?"

But now I don't even remember what I was going to tell you about Portland. I'm lucky enough to get there at least once a month and getting to Portland consists of stopping in Hood River, another favorite spot. On the way back, dad and I were able to try out Everybody's Brewing in White Salmon. A clandestine establishment way up on the hill with a view of the mountains and the river, their microbrew was delicious.

At an antique mall in Sellwood, found---GASP!---a bunch of old typewriters. Thankfully, my good friends at Rustic Rooster in Prosser feed my habit by giving me deals on any antique typing gadget they can get their mits on. I type most Bipolar Betty Cards on a modern automatic, but I love to set the others around my living space and studio like art pieces. I am looking forward to the day when I can exclaim: "Don't touch that--it's an antique!"

"You're all very pretty," I told the typewriters in Sellwood. "But one more non-functional gadget might break me."

red flags and long nights.

For those who were waiting, the Betty Stalker Notes have been made into nifty cards, just in time for Valentine's Day. Or, the entire month of February, which is the unofficial Stalking Month as decreed by me.

I love my blogger friends who manage to capture their life with photos. As much as I love to read, sometimes I don't want to. Especially if it looks like a particularly long passage, or if I have my Bad Glasses on, like today. It is my goal to tote my camera around wherever I go, and I am not worried about the implications of manhandling it all day long, because it is really an awful camera. If I trip on a sidewalk line and crush the lens under my jagged hipbone, I might then allow myself to get a new camera. But THEN and ONLY then. Kind of like, how my converse are covered in paint, but I am convinced that they don't need to be replaced until I can see my socks through the soles.

I want to post a photo for you, but I can't. I forgot to bring my camera on the first day of camera-policy inception.

It doesn't look promising, gang. Not at all.

Check in January 10th for new art postings!

recent work

These two pieces were created exclusively for and sold to the Great Mister Manchester.
(he promises to make the cross country trip for my next show, top hat and monocle in place.)

inspiration

I sought inspiration for most of my Tacoma show artwork from the skillful eye of the Dance Commander. These were taken in a Honduran jungle.

occupy your every sigh, rent some space inside your mind

November 2010 show at The Viceroy in Tacoma, Washington.
Also known as "How to go without eating or sleeping for a month and produce an army of artwork".