He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. ~ Psalm 147:3

Archive for the ‘Caricatures’ Category

Nursing Homes Make Me Sad

What started yesterday as a quiet, peaceful visit at the nursing home with my sister-in-law, Pat, ended in a heated confrontation with the social worker. I understand that people are in nursing homes for various reasons and that the facility is understaffed and for the most part, doing the best they can.

But, c’om on. Two people sharing one tiny room divided by a flimsy curtain and four people sharing one bathroom really makes my blood boil. It’s a wonder the residents don’t end up killing each other.

And Pat has had here share of less than enjoyable roommates with their loud TV’s and moaning and groaning all hours of the day and night. But they were darling little pussy cats compared to this roommate.

To get to Pat’s side of the room, visitors have to walk through her roommates space. I wouldn’t like that, either. But it is what it is. So as my husband, Buck and I tip towed past the roommate sitting in her wheelchair, she shot us a glaring, drop dead look. But she’s old. That’s what miserable old people do. So we brushed it off with a smile.

About thirty minutes into our visit, the roommate sped out of the room and down the hall telling the nurses we were threatening to kill somebody! A nurse came rushing in, rolled her eyes and left. Moments later, the roommate parked outside the door shaking her bony finger at my husband and yelling, “You have no business in here! Get out and take that woman (me) with you!”

Obviously, she has problems, and I’m sorry for her. But, my concern is for Pat’s safety and emotional well-being.

So like a banty rooster, I wheeled Pat to the social worker’s office and plead my case. Her solution was moving Pat to another room. My argument was: Pat was there first. She likes it there. And she’s not the one causing the problem, so she shouldn’t be the one having to move.

But that’s our regulations, she said.

Well, your regulations are stupid, I said.

Feeling anxious and defeated, I wheeled Pat back to her room and sat on the edge of her bed, comforting her and trying to get my racing heart to slow down.

Things worked out in the end. The social worker came in and talked to us, helping us to understand and suggesting other visiting options. Pat got to keep her room and her roommate was placed in another room. Maybe the sun will shine brighter for her there. I hope so for her and her roommates sake.

 

 

 

Digital Art: Caricatures

Caricature Sandi 4
Every now and then I let all my people out as long as they promise to behave.

I created my caricatures from photos. I don’t like pictures of myself, but I love distorting them into something humorous.

Using PaintShop Pro 2019 Ultimate, I first erase the backgrounds from the photos. Then, using the Warp Brush I manipulate the facial features. When I’m satisfied with the character I wish to create, I use plugins and other special effects to give it the finishing touch.

Click on any picture to enlarge

Just Let Go!

Old age is not for the faint of heart! To get there, you have to push through the birth canal, survive childhood, adolescence, peer-pressure, and acne. You go through High School, puppy love, and heartaches. You skip college, get a job and hopefully earn enough money to pay for the used car you bought. Then you fall in love. Get married. Get your own place. And have a kid.

Now the fun begins. With true grit, you battle with his temper tantrums, potty training and cutting up in kindergarten. In Junior and Senior High you struggle through the designer-clothes-thing you can’t afford to buy, wrecked cars, girlfriends from Hell, and strange ideas; like living in the wilderness some day. You feel his pain and heartaches, get frustrated when he rebels, and want to clip his wings but let him fly. You pray for him, lose sleep over him, and want nothing but the best for him.

Then, he gets married and leaves the nest to start a family of his own. You’re happy for him, but you cry and grieve for the mischievous little boy who once was but will never be again.

Then he has kids that feel just like your own. You play with them, read to them, make up stories for them. You dry their eyes, rock them to sleep and tell them how precious they are and how blessed you are to have them in your life.

Then they grow up and have kids of their own. But things are different this go around. Your kid is now the grandparent. It’s time to take a back seat and watch as his grandkids run to him, jump in his arms and giggle with delight as he tickles them. It’s his turn to feel the love and the joy of being a grandparent. It’s his turn to help guide and direct and let them fly. It’s his turn to shine.

By now, you are feeling like a shadow. A stranger in a world where great-grandparents struggle to belong. You know you are still loved, but no longer feel needed or that your opinions are as valuable as they once were. Like sitting in a drifting boat, things that were once bigger than life become tiny specks on the horizon. You cling to your memories, grieve for your losses, and long for the moments in time that once were but will never be again.

This is the part where you face the naked truth that it’s the way of life. That you can’t build your dreams on shifting sand; changing relationships, ideas and opinions. This is the part where we must lower our expectations to protect our fragile feelings from anger, bitterness, and resentment. This is the part where we stop pining for the good old days, keep pressing forward and live each day to its fullest. This is the gut-wrenching part where we must unclench our white-knuckled hearts and just let go.

Loneliness

From the dungeon of abandonment it ruthlessly came

Gripping my heart with fear

Tormenting my mind

Poking holes in my soul

Why was I chained here

What is my crime

 I must be ugly

Stupid

Unworthy

I just wish I could die

Then I heard His voice

I saw His torn bloody hands

And I cried

Help me Lord

Then He stooped way down

And lifted me up

He wrapped my shivering soul in His love

He calmed my fears

He healed my mind

And turned my loneliness to joy

~ Sandi

I will never leave you nor forsake you

Joshua 1:5

The Old Woman in the Mirror

My mother would tell me, “Don’t get old, Sandi. It’s not any fun.” And as usual, I didn’t listen to her. So here I am. I look in the mirror and don’t know who the heck that old woman is or what she did with my red hair and freckles. She was so sneaky about it too, sprinkling a few grey hairs here, lots of wrinkles there, and a bunch of other stuff I’d rather not talk about.

But I thank God every day that He has allowed me to hang around this long, and that no matter how scary old age is, He promises to walk with me every step of the way, to calm my fears, and to love and protect me from harm. And when I take my last breath on this earth, He will take me to my eternal home in Heaven where old age is not allowed! In that, I find hope, peace and comfort.

~Sandi

It’s Not Just a Hair Thing . . .

As far back as the Dark Ages, I had this thing about hair. My dolls lived in fear, wondering which one would be next to get their hair chopped off. When I was fifteen, I started cutting my hair. But I always left enough to roll it in curlers.


Men, have you ever tried sleeping in these things? It’s like laying your head on a pile of rocks. I tried sleeping sitting up, hanging my head over the side of the bed, tossing and turning all night long trying to get comfortable. Finally, I came up with a solution.

The hair dryer from Mars. Worked like a charm. When my hair was dry, I took out the stupid curlers and went to sleep.

Then there was the brushing, the teasing and styling, and cans of hairspray.

And those frizzy, Bozo the Clown perms you couldn’t comb with a garden rake.



Then came Susan Powter. Remember her? The Susan Powter TV show back in the 90’s?  Well, I’ll never forget her. The moment she strutted her skinny self across the TV screen wearing stilettos and a skimpy bikini, I fell in love. She was spirited, she was funny, she was cocky and sassy. And she was BALD! 

In that wide-eyed shocking moment I saw liberation! I saw  no more curlers. No more perms. No more curling irons setting my hair on fire. No more hours of combing and teasing and spraying and worrying about the wind and the rain and the humidity messing my hair up. I’m gonna shave my head!

It was nuts. It was insane. It was absolutely scary. But running the clippers through my hair and watching it fall to the floor was the easy part. Dealing with the unconventional choice I made took some getting used to; the gawking stares, the pointing fingers and whispers. I found the whole thing rather amusing, even laughed out loud when strangers asked me if I was sick, and when children asked if I was a girl. But the funniest of all was when a woman, assuming that I had cancer and undergoing treatment sympathetically told me to keep up the good fight!

 

 

 

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