And The Wheel Goes Round

To get the ol’ creative juices flowing, I’ve been working a little, here and there, on a lesson book of painting techniques. I’m pretty comfortable working with a brush and craft quality acrylics, but now I’m learning methods to create an image from scratch using real big boy paints and brushes.

It’s a big deal!

Today’s lesson was to paint my own color wheel. At first, I thought “Meh. A color wheel? Boring.”

It turned out to be a really interesting and useful exercise, and helped me learn both the paint and my new (fancy) brushes. When my work was done, I fell a little bit in love with my hand crafted color wheel.

And since I can’t seem to separate my High Arts from my Craft Arts, when I was done, I noticed the little bit of imperfection at the center of my wheel. That place where all six colors meet? There was paint overlap and some small white spaces.

So I did what any good crafter does. I hid it with rhinestone. Fabulous!




Copyright 2012, Karen Fayeth. Subject to Creative Commons license.


I must have colors and color theory on the brain. Here’s a photo I snapped earlier today:




Copyright 2012, Karen Fayeth. Subject to Creative Commons license.



6 Writing Tips From John Steinbeck

It would appear there is an internet meme going on lately concerning writing tips from classic authors. So far I have come across 10 Tips on Writing from businessman David Ogilvy and Henry Miller’s 11 Commandments, both very worthy reads.

Yesterday, I came across an article in The Atlantic titled 6 Writing Tips from John Steinbeck.

This is the advice that really resonated with me…which is odd because I have such a love-hate relationship with Steinbeck.

My first foray into Steinbeck was in High School where I was held down against my will and forced to read Grapes of Wrath. I *hated* Grapes of Wrath. Loathed. Jettisoned the book across the room in disgust more than once. I found it over the top, preachy and that alternating narrative about the Joad family interspersed with expository about the Depression and the Dust Bowl was dreary and overworked.

My next read was The Pearl, which I read grudgingly because it was Steinbeck, but I actually enjoyed in spite of myself. Then I read Of Mice and Men which I found to be a cruel, sad book, but the writing was solid. Then, because I liked the movie, I gave the book East of Eden a whirl and found it to be only so-so.

So I’d given Steinbeck a chance, didn’t like his stuff, and from High School on, I read zero Steinbeck. I wasn’t having it, unh-uh, no way.

I was vocal and insane about how much I WOULD NOT read Steinbeck.

Enter my multi-talented and fabulous cousin. Two years ago, he was in town and we went to Monterey to celebrate his birthday. While there, he asked if I’d ever read Cannery Row and I said no. Then I issued my overworked rant about Steinbeck.

He said, “You should give it a try, I think you’d like it.”

Well that was that. If my cousin said try Cannery Row, then by god I had to try it.

I went to the library bookshelf and plucked the slim tome from the pile and gave it a read.

I loved it. Every word, every story, every character so utterly perfect. I really actually truly loved and adored a Steinbeck book. Magic!

So when I stumbled across Steinbeck’s writing tips, I paid attention.

My two favorite books on writing are Ray Bradbuy’s Zen in the Art of Writing, which saved my life during my first real and profound battle with writer’s block, and Stephen King’s On Writing (which my rock star cousin gifted to me, because he’s so right on like that).

The little list of Steinbeck’s advice is pasted below…this now goes in the favorite pile too.

Here it is:




From The Atlantic.

Grown Up Decisions, Made by Comparison

The scene: The Good Man and me, at the furniture store. He’s on one end of a really nice couch. I’m at the other.

We both have our feet up on a fabulously cool ottoman/bench.

He digs the couch. A lot. I like it, but I am a little hesitant. It’s absolutely unlike anything we’ve looked at all day. The color and the fabric are exactly what he said he didn’t want.

Also, the style is very modern and I’m generally a more traditional sort of gal.

I’m wavering. It’s cool. Very cool. But it’s out of my zone.

Here’s where we pick up the conversation.

The Good Man: “So. Let me ask you this question: Would your dad buy this couch?”

Me: “Oh hell no. He’d say it’s impractical.”

The Good Man: “Right! Now let me ask you this question. Would *my* dad buy this couch?”

Me: “Oh hell no. Same reason.”

The Good Man: “There you have it.”

And there he had me. Snared me in his blend of logic and emotion. Mixed to perfection like a spousal apothecary.

Damn the man who knows which levers to pull in my brain. Damn him, I say!!

And I mumbled something similar under my breath as I got out a credit card and handed it over to the salesguy.

It is a pretty chula couch with two matching chairs and the bench/ottoman for resting toesies.

I just hope I’m cool enough to own it.





Damn it! I can’t believe I bought a couch without knowing THIS masterpiece was on the market! GAH!






Photo from I Can Haz Cheeseburger.



Well I’ll Be Darned

Over the many years of our association, The Good Man and I have run into quite a few “well I’ll be darned” moments. New York boy and New Mexico girl are sometimes worlds apart in our life experiences.

The latest came around when we moved into our new apartment home. I’ve lived in huge apartment complexes, six unit buildings, and the last place I lived was a duplex.

And at each of those places, they way you got rid of your trash was to schlep it downstairs to the big metal trash bins in the parking lot.

But our new place has a curiosity….a trash chute! This blows my tiny little mind. I’ve never even seen one much less lived somewhere with one.

This is the coolest thing EVER.



So beautifully unobtrusive





Ok, that hole is a little scary, but rather effective


It’s a pretty, shiny bit of steel. Open the convenient door, drop in my trash, close the door, dust off my hands and whistle a happy tune.

It’s just down the hall and around a corner from my place. I can even slip out there in the morning in my nightgown and bare feet. Fabulous!

The other day, The Good Man put some boxes down the chute and said he was pretty sure they were stuck. I suggested he send a bowling ball down after it. He wasn’t amused.

See, he’s used to the Super getting really mad when the trash chute gets blocked. Me, I don’t know from a Super or a trash chute, so I have the luxury of just being a wise ass.

So The Good Man is all “yeah, whatever” and I’m all “whooooooo!” about this feature of our home.
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Next time, on Intercontinental relations, we’ll discuss “Why are the traffic lights in New Mexico horizontal, that’s just weird” (him) counterbalanced against “Why doesn’t California use mile markers? No wonder you people drive like crap.” (me)



Vaya Con Bye-Bye

Whew. Yeah. Okay. Unh huh.

My tireless boss has been in town for the past three weeks. I swear the guy doesn’t drink coffee, soda or energy drinks and he can outlast everyone. The man is relentless.

He’s been in a bunch of meetings. I’ve been in most of those same meetings. In that slight half hour before the next meeting, he’s in my office wanting to plot and plan and strategize. There’s a lot going on. Marker boards were used. Action items were assigned.

It has been non-stop. I’m punch drunk and overwhelmed.

Today, at noon, he put on his battered leather jacket, picked up his computer bag, and left town.

It is wrong that I offered to drive him to the airport?

I mean, I dig the guy. He’s brilliant and funny. He hates my iPhone case, told me “you’ll never make it to the boardroom with that case” which makes me want to send him one. Every day. For a month.

He knows his stuff and has a lot of respect from everyone, including me.

I am fortunate to have him for a boss.

I’m also fortunate that he on an airplane until tomorrow sometime.

Wheeeeeew. This is the first 30 minutes I’ve had to just sit at my desk in weeks. I like it.






Image from CentreFlow.