Cotton Balls

What happened to you? Did you lose a fight with a bag of cotton balls?
Actually, that would have been more fun.

Today I got to experience nerve conduction testing. While not as bad as I was expecting, it still wasn’t much fun. Basically they stick needles into your muscles (while insisting that you remain completely relaxed as they do!) then ask you to flex so that they can check how your nerves and muscles are working. Some times they shock you with electricity (probably mostly for amusement). Where they stabbed me in the back, I developed some colorful goose eggs. I take turmeric, which acts as a blood thinner, so I ended up with cotton ball band-aids all over.

The take away? I can add Lou Gehrig’s Disease to my list of things I don’t have.

Another “you” post? This is getting boring.

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We Want to Help You Succeed!

Mommy is drawn inside of the Ghost Buster symbol

Oh wait, not you. You’re old.

The local technical college has been conducting demonstrations at local libraries introducing the public to their various career programs. I decided to go to one to see what they might have to offer and ask questions about certification requirements. They took one look at me and politely said that they can only help “student aged” people, not a “continuing education” someone such as myself.

Sigh.

Have I told you lately that you’re old? That’s right, I don’t have to. Someone else did.

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Dream Our World

If you would like to find out what young puppies do when let loose in the museum of their dreams, pick up a copy of Dream Our World! Inside Biteyand Toby view the world of art from a canine perspective and enjoy a day of unsupervised fun.


Blocked

For whatever reason or combination of reasons, I am completely blocked creatively. I can’t draw. I can’t paint. I can’t focus my thoughts at all. A friend suggested that I try doing little 15 minute sketches each day to try to recover. Even these are miserable to try to do. I feel like I’ve had far too much caffeine and can barely sit still.

Perhaps you can find one of your babies here, sacrificed for my need for source photos. I apologize for not being able to capture their true natures. I’m trying, though. I’m really trying.

At least she didn’t draw you looking like a teddy bear!

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Unremarkable

The MRI says my brian is "unremarkable". We could have told you that.

Yes, once again I had a procedure that told me absolutely nothing about what is going on with me. I suppose I should be happy that this process of elimination is helping me to find the real problem, but this morning when doctor’s office called they pretty much said that after the nerve conduction testing next month, there is nothing more they have to offer. Great. Now I have another month and a half of falling down before going through more testing that will most likely have “inconclusive” results.

Coincidentally the night before the test I watched a bad movie where a running joke was one of the characters trying to break into the recording industry by composing House Music. The music was truly awful but was considered greatly improved when a nearly-dead man in his apartment started tapping a single note over and over on the composer’s keyboard. It turns out that MRI’s sound just like that awful House Music! It was all I could do to keep from laughing as that single repeating note kept being blasted through the tube to the counterpoint of musical sounds the machine made. (If you haven’t had an MRI, they are very musical. They don’t just make the ka-chunk, ka-chunk sound shown in TV medical dramas.)

I have a friend who has been very supportive and keeps encouraging me saying that it’s not that nothing is wrong with me but that the doctors haven’t found anything because they aren’t asking the right questions. In the meantime, my technical diagnosis still remains “bull sh*t lying hypochondriac bit*h”.

Oh my gosh, would you quit yammering about yourself already and tell a story about me?!?

Next time, puppy.

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Royal Pillows, and many other find gifts, are available at my shop at L Bowman Studios.

Requiem for a Squash

This industrious pumpkin planted itself early in the spring. Once it blossomed, the fruit doubled in size nearly every day. This is how big the determined pumpkin got before cutworms got the better of it.

I don’t know what my heartbroken little Toby will do when fall arrives.

I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll make you go to the store and buy me some pumpkins!!!

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Dream Our World

What would two puppies do if left on their own in an art museum? Find out in Dream Our World! Inside the boys discover the world of art from a canine perspective and enjoy a day of unsupervised fun.

Dream Our World is available form my shop.

The Circle Closes

A day after Toby killed that chipmunk. we found the brother in the exact same spot. Either these two weren’t very good at being chipmunks, or this one was so despondent over losing his kin that he allowed the neighborhood kitty to send him to the other side.

Either way, I am hoping that the wires in my car will be safe for a little longer.

You should have let me catch that one too, mom.

I would a kil’t ‘im real good.

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Chippendale (Warning: Mature Content)

What? Death is a mature subject!

While my Geordie was quite the hunter, Toby hasn’t really followed in his footsteps (paw prints?). That is what made his killing of this chipmunk so surprising. Toby was really proud of himself, and I guess part of me was as well…until I saw the chipmunk’s brother looking bereft at the feet of an angel statue nearby. Perhaps it was actually shock at having been nearly killed by a vicious animal, but I read sadness and loss in his body posture.

Yet, what a hypocrite I am. Those blasted little rotters did a number of my truck in previous years. They chewed up all the insulation under the hood and gnawed on my cables. I wished them all dead.

So what is the lesson from this encounter? I guess mostly that I am stupid and anthropomorphize vermin. Unless, perhaps, by not better supervising my pup, I have allowed him to create Mexican Joker Chipmunk…..

You think too much. I am a good killer!

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I Feel Weird

I feel weird. Yeah, me too.

Poor Bitey and Toby. It’s always the kids that suffer.

It is looking like what I thought was a simple case of osteoarthritis is either psoriatic or psoriatic + rheumatoid arthritis. Very suddenly I have lost nearly all the strength in my right hand. (Unfortunately I am a righty.)

For the time being, Bitey and Toby will have to be drawn with my left hand. As you can see, they don’t look quite how they usually do. I am also having the fun of learning to use a mouse with my left hand. Oh the joys that abound in Bitey Land!

Like Job, I am trying to be grateful for this most recent challenge. If you are a subscriber to bootstrapping philosophy in neuroanatomy (i.e. W.H. Calvin’s The Throwing Madonna) , potentially switching hands like this might help to unlock my crippling writers’ block. Of course, I still can’t draw, write or type anything I think up. Hmmm….

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Dream Our World

To find out what trouble my boys have been up to, pick up a copy of Dream Our World. Inside they view the world of art from a canine perspective and enjoy a day of unsupervised fun!

Dream Our World is available from my shop.