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Tipping Point

Mary Liz Ingram —  September 29, 2013 — 2 Comments

Wow. September 8, huh? I used to be so good at posting…every other day, every 3 days. But this time I’ve waited a whopping 21 days – almost an entire month?!

How did that happen, we might ask.

Well, I’ll tell you.

This happened:

Ruby, 8x8 pastel

Ruby, 8×8 pastel

Because 3 kids, one a baby, at least 2 jobs a piece, not to mention a cat and 2 other dogs, weren’t enough responsibility for my husband and I. Apparently not.

Ruby is my tipping point. Google gives a handy explanation: “Tipping point, the point at which an object is displaced from a state of stable equilibrium into a new, different state.”

Yep, it is definitely a new and, ahem, “different” state we are now experiencing.

But seriously. We love this little pup, our miss Ruby. We may be in the throes of puppy potty-training, “No Bite!” yelling, toy eating, mischief making, vet billing puppy-hood, but she is already spoiled rotten.

And it was quite an adventure to get Ruby.

With the kids riding blind, we took them about 40 minutes out on a secret mission. We turned at the blue mailbox and met a great friend and fabulous co-worker at her in-law’s farm. And there was little Ruby.  Before we left, we visited some chickens and were chased by some goats. All in all, it was a grand adventure (thanks Mrs. Tina!!).

Here are a few photos of our newest addition:

 

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Age of the Dinosaurs

Mary Liz Ingram —  September 8, 2013 — 1 Comment

Long ago, in some of my earliest yesterdays, I took a trip. Amidst mouse-eared balloons, sky-painting lasers & flying elephants, we approached the dinosaurs.

My father ushers me into place with the rest of my family. We begin our journey to the Mesozoic Era…the age of the dinosaurs.

Entering in darkness, unsure of what lay ahead, we creep tentatively under huge palm leaves. Something red is glowing up ahead, huge moving shadows warn me of coming doom. Dinosaurs.

These things are huge. They are moving. They are not stationary models, replica skeletons. In my 6 year old mind, with widened terrified eyes, if I’d know the words, I would have been saying “holy s$*#!!” If I wasn’t held in by a lap bar and my dad, I would have been in full on flight mode, running hysterically through the dark in a desperate search for 1987. Horror. Terror. I thought these guys were extinct?! But there I am, trapped in dinosaur land, eyes squeezed shut in hopes I’d survive this slow moving train of death.

All the while, as heart palpitations and sweat consume me, hysteria setting in, my poor Dad is trying in his logical, parental way to force me to look at these monstrous, man-eating beasts, promising they’re not alive.

Um, did you SEE them? They’re chewing on leaves and roaring for pete’s sake!? Not real?! You are kidding me!

Somehow these people don’t understand the situation. We are all going to die. Eaten by dinosaurs at Disney World. Perhaps crushed by a giant foot, chomped by a tyrannosaurus….who knows what horrific end awaits?

Well, so maybe I was mistaken. We made it out alive. Shaken and scarred for life, yes, but alive.

Traveling from the Jurassic period (or Triassic, Cretaceous…who knows?!) to present day, one week removed, you arrive at my 32nd birthday. One night over dinner, the kids asked me if I’d ever seen dinosaur bones. Well, yes, I answered, they are in museums. After a quick google, I announce that there’s a stegosaurus skeleton at a natural history museum an hour away.

So we take a trip. To see dinosaurs. On my birthday.

Call it motherly love, parental sacrifice. I STILL do. not. like. dinosaurs.

But we came, we saw, we photographed, we cheesed, we went. There were more dinos than I expected. Gross.

But the kids were AMAZED. I guess it was cool.

But they give me the creeps. Thanks Dad. 😉

Dinosaur & Hubby, ink & colored pencil

Dinosaur & Hubby, ink & colored pencil

The one and only drawing of a dinosaur I will EVER do…

A few photographs from our adventures at the Anniston Museum of Natural History:

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Birmingham Artwalk

Mary Liz Ingram —  September 5, 2013 — Leave a comment

Artwalk is this weekend!

Come see me Saturday on 1st Ave N @ the Legg Lofts…

I’ll be selling my art & working my shift with the Birmingham Art Association from 3:00-6:00!

There will be some great artists & awesome art!

Birmingham Artwalk

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Belle Nuit

Mary Liz Ingram —  September 1, 2013 — Leave a comment

C’était une belle soirée pour un dîner d’anniversaire. Nous avons eu martinis et le dîner au restaurant Chez Fonfon. La nuit était chaude, le soleil couchant d’or. Nous avons eu une petite table romantique pour deux. Je ne parle pas français. J’utilise un traducteur, donc je ne suis pas sûr de ce que j’ai réellement dit. J’espère que c’est juste!

Mais je m’égare.

Ah, if only I’d spent my birthday dinner in Paris…

Highland Martini, charcoal sketch

Highland Martini, charcoal sketch

 

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Fallstreak Feathers

Mary Liz Ingram —  August 30, 2013 — Leave a comment

It’s a morning routine:

Coffee in one hand, a small hand clasping the other… A garish pink stroller pushed by the strong hands of my husband, two baby hands below holding the chosen toy… Two more little hands jauntily holding onto the straps of a super hero backpack. We putter through our neighborhood in the fresh morning air, a family of 5 strolling our way to school.

We notice the cicada shells, the pine cones, the mosquitos trying to attack us; we follow the sidewalks and talk to the dogs. Then we notice the clouds.

We pause. We stare.

There’s a glowing feather in the cloud covered sky.

Thanks to the glories of technology, I can snap quite a nice picture using my phone. Encouraged by my hubby, I tweet my photo, adding a mention to our fabulous local weatherman James Spann. I must’ve acted fast, before everyone else in Birmingham starting snapping photos of the cloud feather, because he posted my photo on Facebook, and I feel ridiculously proud to have over 600 likes on my little ol’ picture. Hee hee!

Come to find out, our “feather” is a cool and rare cloud formation known as a Fallstreak Hole or Hole Punch Cloud. Pretty neat, and very beautiful!

FB fame

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Vacant

Mary Liz Ingram —  August 28, 2013 — Leave a comment

A vacant desk waiting for that quiet moment

An empty chair waiting for creative companion

A tired artist waiting for a calmer day

A busy mind waiting with gathered thoughts 

Waiting through the new starts, the new schools, the busy days

Waiting for the rhythm to return, the mind to be renewed.

Vacant, original photography

 

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Farmyard Additions

Mary Liz Ingram —  August 24, 2013 — Leave a comment

How many pigs does it take to make a drove? How many cows to make a herd? How many sheep to make a flock?

Whatever the answer, I’ve added a few more to my farmyard brood. Each of these new friends wants a home, and are currently boarding with me before making their way to the foster families at Alabama Goods and elsewhere.

Let me know if you are interested in adopting! Email: marylizingramart@gmail.com

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Those Days…

Mary Liz Ingram —  August 22, 2013 — Leave a comment

Marriage is bliss.

But sometimes you act like a horse’s behind, stubborn as a mule, a jack…well, you get the point.

My husband and I had one of those days a few weeks ago. We were tired, cranky, just plain obstinate. Sometimes it’s best to go to your separate corners for a bit.

In one corner, he typed away on his blog.

In the other corner, I drew a mule. Fitting form of venting, I thought.

It worked, too.

We both felt better, hugged and made up, and I now present to you one of my newest pastels, “Horace.”

Horace, 8x10 pastel on card, $175 framed

Horace, 8×10 pastel on card, $175 framed

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Preschool Piglet

Mary Liz Ingram —  August 20, 2013 — Leave a comment

I’m at my desk, typing away, the sounds of 50 young children in the background as they play and glue and squeal and learn. It’s a typical day at preschool in an affluent Southern suburb, the school tucked in a neighborhood surrounded by tall trees and chirping birds.

The phone rings…

I answer and hear “You know how there are days when you just never know what’s coming next? It’s one of those days. There’s a pig in the parking lot.”

Yup. Pig in the parking lot. Of course I MUST investigate.

At the far end of the church lot, there is indeed a wee pig: a little pot-bellied piglet, to be exact, hiding in the bushes that line the parking spaces, wagging his little piggy tail, happy but nervous. A few walkers, a few friends, a curious policeman, and a nice animal control worker tried to coax the little guy into trust, so he could find his home.

There were a few moments of excitement, with him bolting out of the bushes and making a quick dash around the lot before returning to his leafy hiding place – once I had my hands on him, but I squealed at his squeal and let go (wimp, I know).

So, aptly named Edward, he finally made it to a safe place and waits to find a new home, if he hasn’t already.

He was big news in the land of Mountain Brook, and on Facebook. It’s not everyday there’s a pig in the parking lot!

Edward, 5x7 pastel on card, $75 framed

Edward, 5×7 pastel on card, $75 framed

 

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Trail of Stones

Mary Liz Ingram —  August 18, 2013 — 2 Comments

There are days marked in our lives with white stones. We can never forget them. Recollections, a very easy effort of memory, seem to bring back even in some measure the very thrill, the same pulsations and emotions, as were kindled into life by certain never-to-be-forgotten happenings. Time cannot weaken them. Whilst we have life the memory of them is eternal. And there are other days against the memory of which we have dropped a black stone. We shrink from anything which may recall them. No sacrifice would seem too great if only we could set the seal of oblivion upon those few hated hours. We school ourselves to close our eyes, and turn our heads away from anything which might in any manner recall them to us.

–The Yellow House, E. Phillips Oppenheim

I close my eyes, and see my life in footsteps, walking down the path of my days as Hansel and Gretel, leaving a trail of carefully laid stones behind. Here I drop a small white stone, there a few more, here a black stone, another white; some large, some small, images of events through which I’ve walked in the moments that lie before today.

I sit listening to the story of an acquaintance. I do not know the stories of this life, but I see a glimpse that reminds me that stories lie tucked away in the speaker’s heart. I remember we all have a story, littered with joys and pain.

Trail of Stones, pastel on cardI read chapters from an old book, as I lay safely nestled in my bed. I am reminded that our journey is unpredictable and bound towards a mixture of triumph and tragedy.

While the black stones are unmistakable, they are but moments in our long life. The white stones outnumber and shine like goodness. No matter what stones lay on your path of life, life is long and deep and full of redemption.

My children grow and flourish, my family is held in love. My baby walks and dances to Elmo. My daughter grows too big for me to carry and prepares for school. My son spins on his head and enters Kindergarten. My husband publishes his books and holds me tight. My friends are close and full of laughter. My life is so good and so full, built of a journey taken step by fumbling step.

The ghosts that we knew made us all black and all blue, But we’ll live a long life. And the ghosts that we knew will flicker from view, And we’ll live a long life. -“Ghosts That We Knew”, Mumford & Sons

Trail of Stones, pastel on card

Trail of Stones, pastel on card

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