My Brother and Nephew- Ink wash

Porch - India Ink - on Mat board

Obama Debt- Oil on Canvas 18x24

Self Portrait - Oil on Gesso

Lion Man- Acrylic on Gesso

Dolphin- Oil on Canvas

 

8x10

sold

Mermaid-Grouper Acrylic and road maps on Mat Board

National Geographic Collage- Oil on Gesso

Beach still life- Oil on Wood

 

14x14

Wine and Cheese- Oil on Gesso

Devil's Lake- Oil on Canvas

 

16x20 oil on canvas

Devil's Lake, Wisconsin

Boat on Tropical Shore- Oil on Canvas

16x20
oil on canvas

Palm Tree Sunset- Oil on Canvas

 Island off the Dunedin Marina.......Dunedin, Florida.

oil on canvas
8x10

Earth in Oil

I always wanted a nice painting of the world...so I made one myself! I am aware that I am missing much of Asia...oops..... I should have used a more rectangular canvas.

oil on canvas
30x24

The Persistance of Memory- Salvador Dali--COPY

My re-mastered master painting, The Persistance of Memory, by the incredible surrealist Salvador Dali.
 Oil on Canvas
 16x20

Palm Pavillion-Clearwater Beach, Florida

The Palm Pavillion, established in 1929, is located on north Clearwater Beach in the great state of Florida. Clearwater is my hometown and I miss her dearly. I now live in the north! Wisconsin that is. Where we actually export more cranberries than cheese. Fun fact. This restaurant has been a part of my memories from childhood to the present day. It is the first place I go to when I fly home and the last place I eat before I fly back to Wisconsin. "There's no place like this place, anywhere near this place, so this must be the place."- Palm Slogan. It really is a true statement. The most beautiful sunsets on the Gulf of Mexico--- drink a frozen rum rummer, listen to great music, and anything on the menu is amazing! Gator bites are a must, a grouper sandwich, and fried cheesecake! OMG, I'm hungry! I have had it all! ...not all at once of course. This was also the place where I kissed my husband for the first time....the day after we met. :) This painting was a gift to him the first year we were together. We are now going on five years and every day is better than the last. 

oil on canvas
18x24

"Within These Walls"

          It was my first night sleeping over as an employee and not as a guest. I worked the late shift at the front desk and I usually got off at 11 pm., but we had almost a full house and I didn't get off until midnight. I was conveniently scheduled to work at 7 am the following morning so my manager arranged for me to stay in one of the out of order rooms. We had about thirty rooms out of order, most of them had no visible reasons for being out of order, but that was just it, no visible reasons. I stayed on the second floor in the south wing in one of the petite queen rooms. We called it petite to make it sound nostalgic in the sense that the room was built that way over a hundred years ago and it wasn't even a queen size bed, it was full. If we told people the room was about 100 square feet, no one in their right mind would ever rent it for $90.00 per night.

          The hotels construction started in the summer of 1895 and was completed in only two years. At that time there was not a lot of development in the coastal town of Belleair, Florida and the building proved to be a Victorian gem of architecture. The hotel itself is 842,000 square feet with a basement, five floors, and three wings. She was built from Florida Yellow Pine and painted white with a green shingled roof. Huge porches line the exterior of each wing and are the only place to sit and watch storms roll in over the Gulf. The beauty of the exterior reflects the beauty and design of the interior. The basement is a series of tunnels that travel beneath the entire structure with small, narrow staircases only a few feet wide that go all the way up to the top floor in each wing. These tunnels and tiny stairwells were used by servants and those lucky to be employed at the grand Belleview Biltmore Hotel. Until 1940 these servants and employees were only allowed to travel through out the hotel using these avenues as they were not allowed to accompany guests in the main hallways.

          The first floor is most grand with hallways fifteen feet wide so the ladies of the time would be able to freely pass each other in the halls without their dresses touching. The ceiling is fifty feet high on the first floor with vents above each room to allow plentiful airflow. Only the wealthiest could afford to stay on the first floor. The year she opened, a room on the first floor cost between four and six dollars. The first floor in the main promenade held three ballrooms, the Tiffany, the Starlight, and the Candlelight. The Tiffany by far is the most grand with a ceiling a hundred feet high, chandeliers made of glass and crystal, and enough room for a thousand people to dine and dance. The Candlelight ballroom was half the size and holds golden candle chandeliers and wall fixtures with a wall of windows looking out over a courtyard to the Gulf of Mexico. The Starlight was dark, with a stage and a rounded ceiling. Within the ceiling are tiny lights giving the illusion of looking into space at the infinite clusters of stars. Further down the hall is a grand ballroom with luxury furniture, priceless art and a grand staircase comparable to the Titanic's.

          From the first floor to the fifth, the ceilings get shorter and shorter. The fifth floor has air vents only inches high and were used for only for the nannies and servants of those wealthy staying on the first floor. The rooms up there housed many and they shared the few bathrooms that were in each wing. The lower four floors had various sized rooms and suites, but the first floor south wing had the most luxurious sun parlors. Opening the door to a sun parlor is a long hallway, about twenty feet, that opened into a bright living space with windows ten feet high. The sleeping quarters could be accessed by french doors on either the living room side or the hallway. These rooms make it easy to forget anywhere else exists.

          The petite queen rooms neighbored the larger two bedroom suites and were only meant for nannies or servants that were needed close by at all times, the rooms never changed after over a hundred years. The Belleview Biltmore holds thousands of memories within its walls – some more mysterious than others.

          During its construction it has been said that a man fell from the fourth floor to his death down the elevator shaft. This elevator was operated manually by a large lever and the door is an iron accordion and behind that door is another. Ten years later, in 1906, a wealthy man and his family came to the Belleview Biltmore on holiday. This man also brought with him another woman. Rumors change over the years, but from what I know, jealousy overcame her and she poisoned his wife and his two daughters. Either way, they never made it home to the Carolina's. Years passed without a tragedy, but then in 1940 the Belleview Biltmore was transformed from a place of escape, fine dining, and relaxation. World War II interrupted her peaceful landscape. The hotel became a military base, housing more than 3,000 military personnel. The hotel is large, but even for this amount of people it can seem very small.

          For five years the hotel was a place of sadness, a place of loss, and a place to die. The fourth floor in the east wing became the medical ward. Many died from injuries suffered over seas, but even more died from tuberculosis. In the final year of the war, a nurse, perhaps overcome by tragedy, hanged herself on the fifth floor in the south wing. Standing in that window she looked out to the Gulf searching desperately for a soldier and the father of her unborn child. The horizon tormented her and that was the end, or at least that is how the story goes.

          Over the next forty to fifty years a few old souls succumbed to nature and passed away warm in their rented beds, however in 1974 another broken heart took her own life. Her name was Sharon, she was 27 years old and to be married. The ceremony was going to be on the west lawn, the bridesmaids dresses were yellow, and the cake was red velvet. Sharon was marrying Greg in May on a Saturday afternoon. Sadly, the car Greg and his best man were riding in blew a tire and slammed into a palm tree. Greg died on impact just hours before the ceremony. Before hearing the news, Sharon was sitting the presidential suite getting a few more curls ironed into her hair. After receiving the tragic news, Sharon leaped from her fourth floor balcony to the flagstone walkway below, also dying on impact.

         These were the stories that were running through my mind as I laid in my bed watching TV on a set that was going on two decades old technology. The TV was drowning out the noise of settling wood and dripping water from the sink. I stared at my closet door wondering if recent guests stories were true. Some checked out in the middle of the night because they claimed a man was sitting in the chair near their closet and he would occasionally open and close the door. “He would just sit there and watch me,” one guest said. She stayed for two nights out of a five night stay and was nearly in tears when telling me she had to go before a piece of her could never leave. Another guest claimed that every morning their closet door would be opened wide, but each night they had closed it so tight that the swelling wood would keep it from opening for anything other than an aggressive pull.

          I had never been alone in any of the rooms before. Before I worked for the Belleview Biltmore, I would stay there with my mom for a week every summer for six years. Although we only lived a few miles away, the Biltmore let us feel as if we were on the other side of the world . I rarely felt fear when I had company behind those doors, though I had my suspicions.

           I chose to ignore the fear and I left my room to make some tea, I thought it would help me sleep. I opened the door to my room and the hallway was surprisingly quiet, even the sound of my own breath sent a chill down my spine. I walked slowly down the hallway looking up to the plumbing that ran along the ceiling. I opened the employee door to the old hidden stairwell to take me to the basement. That is where the employee lounge was and the only place to get anything to drink after 2 am. As I approached the basement lounge I searched for the light switch, but the darkness didn't allow me to find it. I felt along the wall with both of my hands, one foot stepping over the other and started to feel like I no longer needed any hot tea, but it was too late to turn around now. When I finally entered the lounge, the only light came from the fountain machine and it was duller than a small candle. I approached the tables against the long wall to my right and picked up a foam cup to fill with hot water. For the first time I felt that I was really being watched by unknown eyes. I could see to my left a shape blacker than the darkness moving painfully slow along the adjacent wall , to the wall behind me, and then to the wall on my right. I froze completely and I thought if I stayed still it wouldn't know I was watching him - watching me. I picked up a Lipton tea packet and struggled to open it as I held my cup with my left hand. As I pulled the tab and string, my hands shook uncontrollably and I felt the pressure on the right side of my face. It was right next me, I felt my neck pulse and I froze again. I prayed to God and counted to three when I turned to face what was tormenting me. Like the haze generated from overwhelming heat it slowly vanished and I ran. I went through a tunnel over a fifty yards long with one 60 watt light bulb and headed for the exit. I lost half my tea in the run and pushed the door open with incredible force. It took me to the back of the hotel and I walked nearly a quarter of a mile around the property to enter back through the front lobby. I returned to my room shaken and laid in my bed. The settling wood started to have a pattern in its noise, like footsteps pacing from one side of my bed to the other. I reached to my end table and grabbed a few tissues to stuff in my ears. The temporary deafness and hiding beneath my sheets allowed me to fall asleep. When the sun came through my window I felt the fear disappear and prepared for another shift downstairs. I didn't tell anyone for weeks, until I assured myself it really happened and I wasn't crazy.

         A few months later a guest from the fourth floor called down to the front desk around 10 pm and asked if we could send someone up to the fifth floor to ask if they could quiet down. They claimed that it sounded like someone was moving furniture around and talking loudly. I apologized and informed the guest that the fifth floor has been closed down since 1983, more than 20 years ago. In addition to it being closed and locked off, there was no furniture, no carpet, no electricity, and no people. I offered to move them to a lower floor and they more than gladly accepted. At the end of my shift I asked Butch the security guard to come with me to check out the fifth floor. We took the old elevator, the original one. The newer elevators only go to the fourth floor. When we opened the doors and looked out in the emptiness, each of us had a hard time sticking our heads out. The hallway was more than two hundred yards of opened doors and empty rooms. We quickly shut the doors and headed back downstairs. I didn't go back up there for almost six months.

         About a year after I started working there, myself and another coworker went up to the presidential suite when we got off work. Some rich guy checked out that afternoon and he had left all the complimentary booze in the refrigerator. This suite is 1600 square feet with four bedrooms, four bathrooms, a full kitchen, formal dining room, and huge living room and balcony. The same balcony Sharon had jumped from. We flipped on the TV and it was not long before we both heard the sound of furniture being dragged across the wooden floor beams and large foot steps directly above us. We both abandoned our drinks and nearly tripped over each other running down the hallway to the staircase. As I walked to my car that night I turned back to look at the window above the presidential suite. The darkness seemed opaque and it was like something was hiding behind the clear glass, peering down at me.

          I eventually got used to the feeling of being watched, they never hurt me, though some nights I would return home feeling as if I still was not alone. I found myself recalling memories I had never created myself. I started to frequent the fifth floor more often, and the fourth floor east wing. The entire floor of that wing had also been closed since the 1980's and the eerie silence and the mystery of that silence intrigued me. I wanted to know more about those who perished within these walls. I was told by the bartenders that some nights when they were closing down, when their backs were turned, bottles of booze would be moved to their shelves and glasses seemed to clean themselves.

         After the many years of being attached to the hotel, I felt like I was a part of it and it was absolutely a part of me. The hotel was eventually sold to a real estate tycoon from California who wanted to level the place and turn it into condos. Fortunately, the historical society of Belleair kept him from tearing it down. It closed after being open for 112 years.

         I went back for the first time after a year of it being abandoned. Butch still worked there as the only employee. He stood watch alone in that giant building and I swear he had gone mad. At the least he was disconnected from the living world. He allowed me and one of our old co-workers to return and look around. It was sad, the whole place looked dead. The carpet had been removed, the art was gone, and the chandeliers had all been sold in an auction. The hotel was scary enough in the summer months when occupancy was next to nothing. Now it was truly a place to learn fear and mortality. Butch walked us around and told us about a little girl. She was no longer shy and came out every night to play. Butch said he would sit in the halls in the dark just observing the movements and the whispers. He said there was more of them than anyone had originally thought.

        Every hall of every wing on every floor was gray, black, and devoid of life. We walked down these halls searching for something, but praying we would find nothing. I entered a room while Butch followed and when we came out every door in the long hallway was opened. Frightened I turned to go back, but I could not go alone. I didn't know if I would make it out with my sanity. Butch called out a name, and another. I witnessed three round shapes, one on top the other, peering out from behind a door frame and then they all started appearing, door after door they stepped out. I took a step back and felt my heart beating faster and faster. I turned to find my old co- worker and she was no where in sight and I was too scared to call out her name. I turned back to grab Butch and get the hell out of there, but he was gone. I panicked and ran to the old elevator. I felt temporary relief when I closed the elevator doors, but feared having to reopen them.

         When I reached the first floor and I opened the doors, I was greeted by lights and clean carpets. A man stood there and he seemed pleasant enough. He asked me if I was alright and I can't remember if I responded. Confused, I walked down the hall towards the exit. Everything looked new and the sun was shining through the window in the door ahead. I turned back to look at the man from the elevator and the hall grew black and the floor was bare. I ran out the door and remembered it was midnight now, the sun had been down for hours. I saw my old co-worker standing by the car and she asked me what it was like up there. I didn't know what to say, I thought she was there. I told her I left Butch up there and she asked me “who is Butch?”

Synopsis of Short Story- "Rescue TuTu"

Lauren C. LePoidevin

Synopsis of Short Story

          My short story will be narrated from the heterodiegetic narrator, or third persons, point of view.

This story takes place in Tampa, Florida and has 1 central character and 2 minor characters. The central character's name is Carol and she is in her mid 20's, is a full time student, and works part time. Carol is best friends with Paul, the 2^nd character, and they spend most of their time together in a platonic way. Although their friendship is solid and just a friendship, their has always been some underlying feelings for both of them. The third character is Emily. Emily and Carol met working at the mall together and decided to become roommates. Emily is young, only 21, and she is a serial dater. From one boyfriend she received a boxer puppy. After the arrival of the puppy, conflict begins between Carol and Emily. First Emily makes a move on Paul and they begin to date, leaving less time for Carol and Paul to spend time together like they used to. Paul lives 45 minutes away and Emily rarely comes home anymore to take care of her dog. Carol now has to pick up Emily's slack by taking care of Tutu; feeding her, walking her, taking her to the vet, buying food, cleaning up after her messes. Carol starts to keep track of the length of time Emily neglects Tutu and confronts her after about a year of taking on her responsibilities as a dog owner. Carol had to give up her own dog in the past to her mother because she did not feel she had enough time to dedicate to her dog and did what was best for her. Now that she has been taking care of Emily's dog, she feels she could have been taking care of her own dog instead. Nevertheless, Carol forms a deep bond with Tutu and starts to despise Emily for not only neglecting her dog, but taking away her best friend Paul. Emily treats Paul like just another boyfriend to toss aside whenever she is sick of him, and this too causes tension between the girls. Emily dumps Paul and starts dating someone else, again neglecting Tutu. Carol has finally had enough and reminds Emily each day she needs to come home and own up to her obligations and priorities. Emily is immature and only ever argues with Carol about the dog and claims she does take care of her and if Carol does not want to help then not to worry about Tutu. Carol explains that at the end of that years lease she would be moving out and asks if she can have ownership of Tutu. Emily denies her ownership and Carol is left to wonder about Tutu's welfare after she is gone. Carol moves in with Paul temporarily while she finds a new apartment and the two of them start to devise a plan to rescue Tutu from Emily.

The Number 6 and a Side of Crab Ran-goon

Lauren C. LePoidevin

The Number 6 and a Side of Crab Ran-goon

          Chinese food is a rare craving for me. I can never seem to get the thought out of my head that I might be eating a cat. The thought of a poor kitty falling victim to the dreaded Chinese restaurant owner makes me cringe and slightly depressed. I know it wont happen, at least in Wisconsin, but the urban legend still lingers in my mind. I always get the same thing – crab ran-goon, sweet and sour chicken, and white rice. I tried an egg roll once and I thought I had eaten decayed vegetables and grease. Gross. After that I decided not to stray away from my usual order, they are the only items on a Chinese menu that wont make me hurl.

          I walked through the front door of the empty restaurant. It had the usual decorations; a giant photo of the Great Wall in a golden dragon frame and bamboo center pieces at each cheap food court table. I was greeted at the front counter by a nice Asian man and what I assumed was his wife. They were speaking to each other when I came in, but I haven’t the slightest idea what they were saying as they both looked at me. I always feel judged when people are looking at me and speaking another language. I never know if I should be offended or just go with it. So I went with it. He said something to me, I assumed it was hello and I responded by saying hello back.

          He said, “No, how tall are you?”

 
          “6 feet even.”

          “Wow! You must be basketball player.”
  
          I hate when people assume I play basketball because I am a woman and unusually tall. I tried not to make it obvious that I was offended and let out a fake chuckle so the situation didn't become awkward.

          I said, “No, I actually play golf and tennis.”

          People tend to react disappointed that their assumption is completely wrong and unimpressed with the sports I actually participate in. I don't think people who ask me if I play basketball realize that height is also an advantage in these sports. I actually hate basketball. Its about as interesting as a sewing contest. Before the Asian man could respond I blurted out my order.

          “Can I have a number 6 with white rice, crab ran-goon, and extra sweet and sour sauce?”

          “Okay, number 6, white, crab ran-goon, extra sauce. It will be done in 15 minutes. You sit and I bring to you.”

          “That's okay, I'll wait outside.”

           I don't like to wait inside where there are no other customers, it's weird. I paid him, walked outside and lit a cigarette. As I stood there smoking, I thought about cats again and watched a squirrel try to cross the two lane road. He succeeded after about 7 tries. My squirrel observation became interrupted when this guy walked out of the barber shop next door. His pants needed a belt, his hair needed less product, and his cologne needed to be seriously toned down. He lit a cigarette and had his phone glued to his ear. He was about 10 feet away, far enough to not have to say hello and close enough to hear him talking to a friend that I assume was a carbon copy of him.

           He said, “Hey man, what's good? That girl won't stop texting me, how do I get rid of her?”

          He was quiet for a moment and he sat down on a bench.
  
          “She's only good for one thing,” he said. “ And she cooks me dinner like every night. She's so desperate for a boyfriend, its pathetic.”

          I rolled my eyes and pretended I couldn't hear his stupid conversation.

          He then said, “If that girl didn't give it up every night, I would kick her ass to the curb. She's boring and needs to lose 10 lbs. She thinks we are dating just because we hang out and have sex. I never let her spend the night, when is she gonna get the hint?”

          I couldn't believe my ears. Everything this guy was saying just kept getting dumber and dumber. Not to mention more disrespectful as the minutes passed. Out of the corner of my eye I could see him staring at me. Ugh! What a creep. I kept praying he wouldn’t try to talk to me. I am not as blind or nice as the girl he apparently “courting”.

          “Hey, let me call you back. There's a chick out here, I'm gonna go say whassup.”

           Jesus Christ! I thought, my lucky day. He walked over to me and made a sad effort to strike up a conversation.

          “Pickin' up some dinner?”

          “How did ya guess?”

          “What's your name?, he asked.

          “Tabitha.”

          I never give my real name to people I don't feel are worthy to know it. Tabitha was the first thing I could think of. All the thoughts of cat meat in my Chinese food made me think of tabby cats.

          He said, “Oh that's a real pretty name. You go to school around here?”

          “Nope.”

          “Oh, well can I get your number and we can get something to eat sometime?”

          “Um – not gonna happen.”

          Just then the little Asian man brought my food outside in a white plastic bag with a smiley face on it. I never thought I would be so happy to see him again.

          I said, “Thank you so much.” With a cheery smile and tone.

         “Your welcome, come again.”

          I put my cigarette out and started walking to my car. The tool was following me. I turned around and looked at him.

          I said, “ Are you serious, take a hint buddy.” I got into my car and drove away while he stood dumbfounded on the sidewalk.

Animal/Environment Sketch Edited

 Animal/Environment Sketch Edited

          After a day of jam-packed obligations, I finally pulled into the driveway. As the garage door closed, I heard clawing coming from behind the once scratch-less wooden door. As I turned the knob and opened the door he jumped to his hind legs to give me a hug. I used to be able to pick him up with one arm and carry him like a baby; a furry baby. These days he stands up and rests his paws on my shoulders, gripping them so he can lick my face. He gathered his composure and we headed into the kitchen. Boesky stayed attached to my hip while I made some coffee and a peanut butter and raisin sandwich.

         I opened the squeaky basement door and headed down the stairs to get some homework done. Before I reached the last step, a giant black and white arctic fuzzball flies passed me. He made his less than graceful landing on the concrete floor and lost his traction. He was running in place like Tom chasing Jerry around a tight turn. After he regained his footing, he started a game of “let me see how many things I can run into”. He ran as fast as he could through the gym equipment, under the stairs, into the studio, and around and around again, occasionally making U-turns and sliding into storage bins. I egged him on by giving chase until he crashed into my easel, knocking it and a canvas to the floor. I didn't scold him because the accident was my fault. So I picked up the easel and sat in the corner of my studio.

        This space is one of five corners and is about as comfortable as it is going to get. My chair is an old ottoman with an oversized pillow leaning against the wall. The cold brick foundation is concealed by mismatched drapes and the studio wall is still unfinished. The insulation is covered by a plastic tarp stapled to wooden beams. At least 25 charcoal drawings are secured to the tarp with safety pins and serves as my own personal gallery. The space heater is just barely enough to keep me from going back upstairs, even with wool socks and a loose fitting sweat shirt.

         Boesky kept himself busy playing with his toys while I wrote my paper. He buried his head into his toy basket and pulled out a giant tire toy that could be the spare on a Honda Civic or a Smart car at the least. He shook it violently and tossed it up into the air just to jump up and catch it; I think he believes it's alive. After testing and defeating that toy, he buried his head back into his toy basket to find his next victim. Just as I finished my paper, Boesky stood in front of me staring blankly. I think he expected me to know what he wanted. I could have called out any one of the fifteen words in his tiny little brain and he would have reacted the same way. Nevertheless I took him upstairs to go outside.

          I clipped him to his cable line and he took off like a maniac for about thirty feet before he started a revolving circle of imaginary bunny chasing. I bet myself it would only take about fifteen seconds before he wrapped himself around the tree. It only took ten. He always thinks the only way to escape is to chew through the tree for a few minutes and then sit and wait for an adult. When I freed him from his own stupidity, he acted like I just saved his life. He jumped from all four legs to his hind legs, back to four legs and started twirling in circles. He followed me back inside and I prepared my second cup of coffee.

         The two of us headed back to the basement and I returned to my studio to sketch some ideas for paintings I might never get around to painting. My table is covered in dry paint, charcoal, dirty rags, and unfinished projects. Half-done paintings sit with dust and stacks of drawing studies are taking over. I tried to organize a little bit before I sat down with my sketchpad and then I started craving my nicotine. After my fix I sipped my coffee, sharpened my pencil, and put on some quiet music. Just as I made my first mark on the page, my husband walked in the door. Boesky acted like he hadn't seen him in decades and knocked over my coffee during his little outburst. After throwing a few dirty rags on the spilled coffee, I put the pencil down and returned to the above ground world to start dinner. I'll try again tomorrow.

How to Prepare - Revised

Preparing for Tropical Storms and Hurricanes

We are the ants running for the hills when Mother Nature extends her wrathful hands. The history of our blue planet has revealed there is no geographical place on Earth where humans and animals could live and escape the tragedies of natural catastrophes. Storms are unforgiving and being prepared gives life better odds. In the game of survival, Mother Nature has the home field advantage, and in order to win, one must know the incredible force they are up against.

Tropical Storm

     A Tropical storm like hurricanes is determined by its wind intensity. The minimum wind speed of a this storm is 39 miles per hour with a maximum wind speed of 73 miles per hour. These winds howl and carry any debris it can hold waiting to throw it into your path. Street signs violently shake side to side as if the metal post will be ripped from the ground, and if it does you can be sure it wont just fall limp. Sea levels can rise creating what is called a storm surge causing the shore line to pound dry land, dragging anything not secured down back to the turbulent waters. It is rare, but not impossible, for tornadoes to develop during these winds only causing further concern for safety.

Category 1 Hurricane

     A tropical storm becomes a category 1 hurricane when winds reach 74 miles per hour. The maximum speed of this hurricane is 95 miles per hour. These winds are dangerous and can absolutely cause significant damage to property and life. Roof tiles fly like the cards from a dealers hands and the sky grows black as soot. Storm surges grow stronger and rain pounds the Earth in all directions making the risk of flood grow nearer and nearer. Tornadoes start to form, leaving trails of destruction like a toddler with a permanent marker. Trucks can be pushed right off the road like hot wheels and street lights swing until a cord snaps and it crashes to road below.

Category 2 Hurricane

     At 96 miles per hour a hurricane has reached category 2 and its wind speed hits its maximum at 110 miles per hour. One who does not fear these winds is a brave soul. Waves bludgeon the shore with incredible violence. If a st orm surge encounters a sea wall, the splash generated can reach 100 feet into the air if it has not already buried the wall beneath the sea. This storm surge now swallows up to a 10^th of a mile of shore line, drowning once land plant life into a temporary marine world. Hundreds of Millions of dollars in damage will occur in the path of this hurricane. The outside world becomes incredibly unstable when winds tear through homes like a derailed train. As street signs are plucked from the ground with such ease they end up landing somewhere with deadly force. Trees shake like an umbrella after one comes inside from the rain. They can have been rooted for 60 to 100 years and in an instant be ripped from the Earth, becoming weapons against the community.

Category 3 Hurricane

     At 111 miles per hour, a category 3 hurricane is born. The maximum wind speed is 130 miles per hour. These winds leave a devastating after math; some will not survive. As in the previous two categories, storm surges are eminent, tornadoes will beat the ground and destroy property, lakes will be swallowed by floods, and the wind will carry debris for miles before it conveniently thrusts objects into your home or car. The winds scream with anger, and the sounds of metal can be heard as debris meets debris. Palm trees bend with incredible resilience and just when you think its going to crack, the oak next to it becomes uprooted. When a tornado is near, you might think a locomotive is on your door step ready to end it all. Do not underestimate the power of this hurricane. To go outside would be like blowing dust from a shelf; you would be the dust.

Category 4 Category 5 Hurricanes

     These categories are incredibly dangerous and are a real threat to survival. The winds produced during these storms leave catastrophic damage and no one is safe. Billions of dollars in damage will absolutely occur. Category 4 wind speeds start at 131 miles per hour and maximize at 155 miles per hour while a category 5 wind speed has only a minimum of 156 miles per hour; there is no recorded maximum speed for a category 5 hurricane. These hurricanes can wipe entire cities off the grid and leave thousands dead or homeless. These hurricanes are essentially tornadoes bigger than entire states. Homes can be torn from their foundations, warehouses leave only a few steal beams giving the impression some large structure used to be there, and once resilient trees snap like tooth picks. Buses, boats, cars, and semi truck trailers are found high in the trees, miles away from where they were parked or docked. Floods will bury neighborhoods and when it is all over, the world around you will look like Armageddon.

Evacuation

     For category 4 and category 5 hurricanes it is highly recommended that you evacuate. It is possible to survive these storms without injury and relatively minimal property damage, but the odds are against you. If you live within 10 miles of a coastline or you live in a mobile home you should absolutely evacuate. For category 2 and 3 hurricanes you may want to consider evacuating if you live within 6 to 8 miles of a coastline and if you live in a mobile home you should still absolutely evacuate. Mobile homes are at risk of becoming debris in these wind conditions. For category 1 hurricanes those living in mobile homes should strongly consider evacuating and coastline homes should hold up fine. Those not living in the above mentioned parameters are able to ride out category 1 through 3 hurricanes with proper planning.

      If evacuation is eminent, try to leave town at least 2 days before the storm makes land fall to avoid a possible grid lock. To better prepare for evacuation scenarios you should have at least 5 routes out of town prepared in the event of grid lock and/or bridge/road closures. Once wind speeds exceed 45 miles per hour bridges close and at around 75 miles per hour causeways will also close. Have road maps, a first aid kit, and if possible a GPS in your escape vehicle at all times. Pack at least 3 weeks worth of clothing, returning home may not be an immediate option after a hurricane has passed. If you need to evacuate, having a file folder with your most important and valuable documents ready to go is a good idea. Some documents cannot be easily replaced. Examples of important and valuable documents would be birth certificates, social security cards, titles, deeds, bonds, emergency credit card, insurance information etc. Having these items makes getting life back to normal a little easier in the event your home and all of your belongings have been destroyed. Keeping this folder in a fire and water proof safe is most ideal even if you do not have to evacuate. Finally, even though food and water will be available where ever you decide to seek refuge, it is recommended that you have 5 to 6 gallons of water and a weeks worth of food available.

Home Supplies

     Basically the majority of supplies you will need are based on the likely event of a power outage. Power can remain down for a few hours up to a few weeks depending on the severity of the hurricane. Power can even be out for a few hours up to a few days after a tropical storm. The following list of supplies will enure your survival in a power outage:

• At least 1 flash light per person
  • Do not use candles – they are hazardous and rescue wait time will be increased or impossible
• Radio- for weather updates i.e. tornado warnings and flash floods
• Batteries
• Cooler and Ice- to preserve cold food as long as possible
  • If you choose not to get a cooler, try not to open the fridge. Each time the fridge is opened, cold air escapes and food starts to perish.
• 3 weeks worth of dry and/or canned foods
  • cereal, raisins, bread, peanut butter, crackers, etc.
• Generator
  • Never ever use a generator indoors. Generators produce carbon monoxide and is deadly if inhaled.
  • Generators should be stored indoors during the storm and only used outdoors after the storm has passed while you are awaiting power to be restored.
    • Generators need to be stored indoors during the storm because they become hazardous debris if left outdoors.

      In addition to the above mentioned supplies you will want to have at least 12 gallons of bottled/jugged water on hand in the event your water source has been contaminated.

Preventing Injury and Property Damage

     Two of the most important things to have for your home are a strong roof and hurricane proof windows. If your home was built before the year 2000 you may not have hurricane proof windows. It is in your best interest to invest in hurricane proof windows and a solid roof. If this is not possible, hurricane proof shutters can be installed for a lesser amount than new windows. If installing shutters is also unaffordable there is a cheaper option, but it is less effective. Drill screw anchors into the exterior of the house around the perimeters of each window and/or sliding glass door. Use either aluminum sheets or plywood to secure to the anchors. This will prevent most debris from breaking your windows. Putting tape on glass will not protect it from any debris, not even a pebble.

      you have any outdoor potted or hanging plants, you should bring them all indoors. These plants can easily become dangerous debris; putting yourself and others in danger. Any thing on your property that is not secured to a foundation should be brought indoors to avoid creating more deadly debris. If you have the opportunity, buy sandbags to place on the interior of your entryways to prevent light flooding.

     Do not park cars under trees if at all possible. You never know what tree is going to fall or which way it will fall. Anything you can do to prevent your own property damage will save you from future headaches and financial loss. If you live under large oak trees, you might want to consider evacuating for the same reason you wouldn't park a car under a tree.

     Lastly, do not go outside during a tropical storm or hurricane. It may seem thrilling, but it is in fact a quality of a Darwin award winner.

Analyze- "Cathedral" by Raymond Carver

     The “Cathedral” by Raymond Carver is a very descriptive story about a man awaiting the arrival of his wife's blind friend and the events that take place on the blind mans first night as his guest. His concrete language describes his thoughts on the future arrival of Robert, the blind man, and his reservations with having him come to his home to visit his wife. The protagonist in the story “Cathedral” only went by the name “Bub”. I can only conclude that this was not his real name, but an affectionate nickname given to him by Robert the blind man. As this story began, it became clear that Bub was not thrilled to have another man in his home that had a history with his wife, the history did not matter, but even more intimidated by the thought of a disabled man in his home. Bub was bitter when describing his wife's history and ex husband, but goes on to explain his worries of having a blind man around. Bub describes what the life of a blind man must be like and what it must be like to be married to a blind man. His words were judgmental and had Robert known his initial thoughts, he might have been hurt or offended by Bub's opinions. Bub did not know what to expect, how to act, or what to talk about. At first he does not care the least if he has anything in common with the man or if he is even comfortable as a guest. Bub's stereotypes of blind people proved to be wrong upon meeting Robert and he admired his ability to comprehend his environment. Late into the night of Robert's visit, they have loosened up with some drinks and cannabis (referred to as a “number”) and relax by the television. Bub is watching and Robert is listening as an Englishman narrates stories about cathedrals. Bub asks Robert is he even knows what a cathedral is and attempts to explain its visual properties, but stops when he realized language is not helping a blind man visualize anything at all. Robert suggests Bub draw a picture and he will hold his hand and follow along to visualize what a cathedral is. It is at this time that Bub finally relaxes and feels comfortable with Robert, even closing his own eyes, and they have a moment of bonding.

How To Prepare

How To Prepare for Tropical Storms and Hurricanes.

      As a true Floridian who has experienced 8 Hurricanes and over 30 tropical storms, I am compelled to inform those unfamiliar with this type of weather how to better prepare themselves for impact. First and foremost, you want to know what kind of monster you are dealing with. These storms are categorized by intensity or wind speed. A Tropical storms minimum wind speed is 39 miles per hour and the maximum wind speed is 73 miles per hour. These winds can generate tornadoes, rip trees from the ground, remove roof tiles, and cause a rise in sea level called a storm surge. Once a tropical storm has reached 74 miles per hour it is then classified as a category 1 hurricane. The maximum speed of a category 1 hurricane is 95 miles an hour. These are dangerous winds and can absolutely cause significant damage. You can be sure that the same effects of a tropical storm will occur, but with more risk of flooding and wind damage. A category 2 hurricane has a minimum wind speed of 96 miles per hour and a maximum speed of 110 miles per hour. These hurricanes are extremely dangerous and will most definitely cause extensive damage. A category 3 hurricane has a minimum wind speed of 111 miles per hour and a maximum speed of 130 miles per hour. You can expect devastating damage to occur from these incredible wind speeds. A category 4 hurricane has a minimum speed of 131 miles per hour and a maximum speed of 155 miles per hour and a category 5 hurricane is classified as 156 miles per hour and any wind speed above that. Both category 4 and 5 hurricanes will cause catastrophic damage and the possibility of death becomes much greater.

When/How To Evacuate:

      For categories 4 and 5 I recommend getting the hell out of dodge well before it makes land fall. If you decide not to evacuate for a category 4 and 5 hurricane you can expect your home to be destroyed around you by either flood, wind, and/or debris and you will likely be injured or killed. If you are living within 6 miles of a shoreline or in a mobile home you should evacuate for categories 2 and 3. You might even consider evacuating for a category 1 hurricane if you live in a mobile home. A recommendation would be made by your local weather advisory and in some cases evacuation becomes mandatory.

     Be sure to pay attention to any weather reports to stay updated on the storms intensity. A category 1 can become a category 4 in the matter of a day or two. A good example of this would be Hurricane Katrina. I experienced Katrina as a category 1 in Florida; radar showed the storm covering the entire state. Once Katrina moved over the warm Gulf waters it quickly became a category 4 hurricane before it made land fall in Louisiana and Mississippi. If travel is not possible, seek shelter in local stadiums. These large structures are the next best thing to evacuation if you want to survive mother nature's fury.

     If evacuation is eminent, be sure to map out at least 5 possible routes. Having only 1 or 2 exit strategies increases the risk of being stuck in a grid lock and can make evacuation difficult or a “too late” scenario. If possible have a GPS available and most definitely have road maps. Try to avoid bridges; as winds exceed 40 miles per hour, local authorities tend to close them. In my case, I lived 23 years in a peninsular county and the only routes consisted of 4 bridges, one major highway north out of the county, and various small two lane roads. If bridges closed before evacuating, you were basically screwed.

Make sure to pack enough clothing for up to a 3 weeks, a first aid kit, and all important/perishable documents ( i.e. Identification, birth certificate, social security card, deeds, titles, etc) Pretty much any documents you do not want destroyed. It is a good idea to always have these documents in a locked file folder so they can be easily packed for a situation such as evacuation. Do not by any means board an animal or leave them alone in your home if you your self are evacuating. Always have an animal carrier ready for travel and bring your animal with you. Hurricane Andrew and Hurricane Katrina both claimed the lives of hundreds of animals because they were either left behind by their owners or their owners decided to wait out the storm.

How To “Ride out the Storm”:

     If the storm you are facing is a tropical storm or a category 1 through 3 hurricane and you decide not to evacuate, the following preparation tips will ensure your survival, minimize property damage, and decrease the risk of insanity by boredom.

Items To Have in the Home:

     While enduring a storm such as these, it is inevitable at some point the power will go out. Some residential areas could have power out anywhere from a few hours up to a few weeks. It is important be prepared for the long haul. In my neighborhood it was common for power to go out up to 1 full day for tropical storms and up to 4 days after a cat1-3 hurricane. We are all now accustomed to refrigerators, lights, television, microwaves, toasters, electric stoves, etc. When these things fail, you need to have a back up plan and it can not involve starting a camp fire in the living room (not smart). My parents have lived in Florida since the late 60's and over the years have perfected storm preparation.

     It is vital to have at least 10 gallons of bottled/jugged water available in the event the tap source has been contaminated. Luckily my family and I never had to resort to using the bottled water during or right after a storm. Having at least 3 weeks worth of dry foods is most ideal. If the power fails cold foods in refrigerators and freezers could go bad before power is restored. We always had plenty of bread, peanut butter, raisins, cereals, crackers, etc available. Fortunately for us we had plenty of dry foods during these storms. On 4 occasions we had to throw away pounds and pounds of food due to lack of refrigeration and live off of the above mentioned foods for three days. Also, as a child I would make sure to have a stash of candy hidden (nerds and tootsie rolls), just in case. I can't lie, I still keep a stash of candy hidden. Also, It doesn't hurt to keep a cooler with ice on hand for those first few days. I am a milk-o-holic and have to ensure I can get my dairy fix even in the face of disaster. If for some reason you can not get your hands on a cooler or ice, try not to open the fridge or freezer very often as that lets the cold air out.

     During a power outage it can be convenient to have a generator. A portable generator should be stored inside until the storm passes so it does not become dangerous debris. However, it by no means should ever, ever ,ever be used indoors. Using a generator indoors will cause death by carbon monoxide inhalation. Anything that runs on liquid gas produces the deadly odorless gas. A generator is to be used outdoors after the storm has passed as a means of having electricity until power has been restored. Some idiot in the middle of redneck Florida a few years back decided he could not wait the 24 hours for the storm to pass before using his generator and ended up killing his entire family.

     During the storm you will still need a light source, so having a number of flashlights is very handy. I recommend having at least one per person and plenty of batteries. I do not recommend candles because they are hazardous and rescue response time will be dramatically increased during a hurricane. Why put yourself at greater risk? In addition to having batteries for flashlights they will be needed for a radio. You will want a radio to keep yourself updated on the weather for threats of flood or tornadoes. Always remember that the television is not a reliable news source during a storm.

     These days just about everyone has a portable house phone, if they even have a house phone, or a cell phone. In a power outage these two phones will not last as long as you may need them too. Every home should have a land line phone in case of an emergency and to stay in contact with family/friends. Finally, a first aide kit and a fire extinguisher are vital, as you will be on your own until the storm blows over. Make sure the first aide kit has antibacterial ointment, bandages of various sizes, gauze, and dermoblast (for burns) and the fire extinguisher has not expired.

Steps to Prevent Injury/Property Damage:

     It is most ideal to have hurricane proof windows, but that is not always the case. Before my parents had these windows installed, my father had permanent screw anchors around the perimeter of every window, including the sliding glass doors to the backyard. When needed, we had custom sized pieces of plywood behind the tool shed that could be secured around all glass openings of the entire house in under an hour. This way if any debris came flying at the windows it was much less likely to break through. This also made the interior of the house darker than the Mariana Trench and flash lights became life savers during power outages. Some people have used duct tape in a criss cross pattern across their windows to prevent shattering, but this unfortunately has never worked, so don't waste your time. To protect your entry ways it is wise to use sand bags to create a boundary between your doors and flooding. My parents house is on a hill and luckily we have never had to deal with standing water.

      Protect yourself and others by bringing hanging and potted plants indoors and basically anything that is not glued or nailed down. Be creative in finding ways to secure large outdoor items. We put our garbage can in our outdoor shower, the lawn equipment in the tool shed, including the hose, the grill in the tool shed, and anything else that could no longer fit in the house, garage, or tool shed, underneath of the pool deck. Securing all of these items reduces the amount of dangerous debris flying around. In a category 2 hurricane, a hanging plant can become a deadly missile. Growing up my favorite part about preparing for these storms was bringing all of the hanging plants inside. We had so many that our house became a jungle and our cats would go bananas chasing whatever lizards that were hiding in plants.

     In addition to flying debris. do not park cars under trees if at all possible. If your home is in the path of large oaks, you might want to consider evacuating. Even after mild tropical storms I have seen oak trees completely uprooted and during a stronger hurricane the possibility is much greater. You never know which way the tree will fall. Finally, never go outside or drive during these conditions. I made the mistake of driving during a tropical storm once and a 7 foot branch landed on the roof of my S.U.V. right after I watched a traffic light come crashing to the street and a transformer box get struck by lightning and catch fire.

How to Prevent Boredom:

     There are a variety of ways to keep yourself busy and the crazy at bay while you are riding out the storm. In the passed I have prepared for this by making sure I have playing cards, bored games, puzzles, and arts and craft supplies. Some people have tropical storm or hurricane parties (as long as its only a category 1). These people under estimate mother nature and give themselves a disadvantage by being impaired in the event they actually need to react to a serious situation. But, never the less, I have attended a few tropical storm parties in my day. Usually these parties start before the storm hits and everyone rides it out together. It is fun for a while, but eventually you just want to go home and lay in your own bed. These storms last too long and I can not party for more than a few hours.

      If all this fails to entertain you during a tropical storm or hurricane just look out the window. Its amazing how a tree with a trunk as thin as a pencil wont snap like a tooth pick, but rather bend with incredible resistance, and a mighty oak tree can be in the ground for over a 60 years and in a matter of seconds be taken to the ground. If nature doesn't make you awe at its turbulence and time is still lagging, just go to sleep, I don't know what else to tell you.

I Hear Palm Fronds Drinking Rain - revised

I hear palm fronds
drinking rain.
Droplets drip,
they make hollow sounds.

The Spanish moss
invades live oaks.

A spider's web
sways heavy with moisture.

I walk barefoot
to feel the Earth.
Step by step,
my soles embrace the ground.

Summers Night - Revised

The breeze breathes faint.
No windows closed.
This summers night,
The tide is low.

Lets take a walk,

To the sea oats dunes.
This summers night,
The moon is full.

Its here we hide,

we can't be found.

This summers night,

We paint the clouds.

Bay Morning- Revised

A lone gleaming star,
Wakes the rising sun.
Red dawns glare,
Floods horizons sky.

On the dock,

We look to the east.
Through sable palm,
and banana leaf.

Brackish waters whisper

to barnacle crusted pillars.

Mangrove roots protect

Greenbacks on the run.
All but few escape,
A thrashing beast moves on.

The sand pines sing

Notes of the trade winds.
The snook now full,
a bay morning begins.

Analyze - non-literary text - Letter from Ron

My non-literary work of choice is a letter from my brother. His letter is mostly for the purpose of giving me his new address and requesting a letter in return with some pictures of my dog. He uses concrete, descriptive language to describe his first 2 weeks in basic training and how its not that bad for him. He talks about the first day and how many of the younger guys were nearly in tears, He said “There were about 15 drill Sargents, screaming, yelling, and talking shit to everyone just inches from their face. I had one do that to me and he turned out to be one of my DS' in my platoon, but I actually think he is pretty cool. I don't mind the yelling.” the food is pretty good, and he made platoon leader and is in charge of 65 men, he said “I actually got platoon guide (or platoon leader) so that's pretty exciting. Hard work getting 65 people into formation sometimes. Can't keep the idiots from being stupid though.” His letter was cut short due to lights out time.

Analyze - Krynicki / Milosz "I Can't Help You"

The poem "I Can't Help You" by Ryszard Krynicki is short and to the metaphorical point. In the first line, "Poor moth, I can't help you". Krynicki expresses sympathy and helplessness for the moth as it approaches a likely death. In the second and last line, "I can only turn out the light", Krynicki is powerless to prevent the moth from its own determination. I suppose turning out the light could also mean turning a blind eye to death. In addition to this poem being a metaphor, it is an ironic metaphor that implies respect and praise for those courageous enough to put them selves in danger for a common goal.

Analyze- "The Things They Carried"

The story The Things They Carried is told from the point of view of Lieutenant Jimmy Cross while in the Vietnam War. He gave vivid descriptions of the heavy burdens of war and how they effected soldiers individually and as a group. The things they carried were not only physical, but mental or emotional. “The Things they carried were largely determined by necessity (367).” He spoke a great deal of the immense amount of equipment carried in war like guns, grenades, morphine, food, and letters/photographs just to name a few. The mental and emotional burdens include guilt, fear, loss, and love. “They carried all the emotional baggage of men who might die. Grief, terror, love, longing-these were intangible, but the intangibles had their own mass and specific gravity, they had tangible weight. They carried shameful memories (381).” These emotional burdens seemed to keep them from performing at full potential more so then the tiring weight of ammunition, water, radios, and other survival items.  "Lavender was dead. You couldn't burn the blame (383)." The language used in the story is direct/ concrete and the tone varied from  neutral and descriptive, to guilt and anger, and ended with a reassuring change in attitude towards responsibility. "There was that new hardness in his stomach. He loved her but he hated her (383)." Throughout the story the author uses irony to mask tragedy and vulgarities to lighten the terror that is war.  "They would police up their acts. They would get their shit together, and keep it together, and maintain it neatly and in good working order (384)."

Environment/Character Narrative

     The day has been jam packed with obligations and now I am finally pulling in the driveway. As the garage door closes, I hear clawing coming from behind the once scratch-less wooden door. As I turn the knob and open the door he jumps up on his hind legs to give me a hug. I used to be able to pick him up with one arm and carry him like a baby. These days he stands up and rests his paws on my shoulders, griping them while he licks my face. He gathers his composure and we head into the kitchen . Boesky stays attached to my hip while I make some coffee and gather some snacks for later.

     I open the squeaky door and head down to the freezer that is our basement to get some homework done. Before I reach the last step, I see out of the corner of my eye this giant black and white arctic fuzz ball fly past me. He makes his landing on the concrete floor, loses traction and looks as if he is running in place. He gains his footing and begins his running game. He runs as fast as he can through the gym equipment, under the stairs, into the studio and around and around again, occasionally making a U-turn or sliding into storage bins. I egg him on by giving chase for my own amusement until he crashes into my easel, knocking it and a canvas to the floor. I don't scold him because that was my own fault. So I pick up the easel and sit in the corner of my studio.

     This space is one of five corners and is about as comfortable as its going to get. My chair is an old ottoman with an oversized pillow leaning against the wall. The cold brick foundation is concealed by mismatched drapes and the studio wall is still unfinished. The insulation is covered by a plastic tarp stapled to the wooden beams. At least 25 charcoal drawings are secured to the tarp with safety pins and serves as my own personal gallery. The space heater is just barely enough to keep me from going back upstairs, even with wool socks and a loose fitting sweat shirt.

     Boesky keeps himself busy playing with his toys while I write my paper. He buries his head into his toy basket and pulls out a giant tire toy that could be the spare on a Honda civic or a Smart car at least. He shakes it violently and tosses it up into the air; I think he believes it's alive. After testing and defeating that toy, he buries his head back in his toy basket to find his next victim. Just as I finish my paper, Boesky stands in front of me and just stares blankly. I think he expects me to know what he wants. I could call out any one of the fifteen words in his tiny little brain and he would react the same way. Never the less I take him upstairs to go outside.

     I clip him to his cable line and he takes off like a maniac for about 30 feet before he starts a revolving circle of imaginary bunny chasing. I give it about fifteen seconds before he wraps himself around the tree. I am not surprised the least when it only takes ten seconds. He thinks the only way to escape is to chew through the tree for a few minutes and then sit and wait for an adult. When I free him, he acts like I just saved his life. He jumps from all four legs to his hind legs, back to four and twirls in circles. He follows me back inside and I prepare my second cup of coffee.

     The two of us head back to the basement and I return to my studio corner to let out some creativity. My table is covered in dry paint, charcoal, dirty rags, and unfinished projects. Half done paintings sit with dust and stacks of drawings are taking over. I try to organize a little before I sit down with my sketchpad and then I start craving my nicotine. After my fix I sip my coffee, sharpen my pencil, and put on some quiet music. Just as I make my first mark on the page, my husband walks in the door. Boesky acts like he hasn't seen him in decades and knocks over my coffee during his little outburst. I put the pencil down and return to the above ground world to start dinner. I'll try again tomorrow.

Environment Sketch 2

It's a bit cold down here, the floor is concrete and bare. Even with wool socks and a sweatshirt, the space heater is just barely enough to keep me from going back upstairs. Despite the temperature and lack of decorating down here, this corner is as close as its going to get to a comfortable work space. My table is covered in dried paint, charcoal, brushes, and unfinished projects. My easels hold half painted canvases and stacks of drawings are taking over.  Mismatched drapes conceal the brick foundation and the wall behind me is only half way done; the insulation is held back only by a clear plastic tarp stapled to the wooden beams. Over thirty large charcoal and pencil drawings are secured to the plastic with safety pins and serves as my own personal gallery. The light bulbs on this side are burned out and a thirty foot extension cord gives power to a weak lamp and an old stereo. The music is low; it doesn't take much to echo all the way to the second floor. A candle is lit on the table and provides just enough extra light to sketch my ideas for paintings that I will never get around to painting.