Archive for the ‘Week 41’ Category

Okay so Minecraft is an artistic medium just as much as anything else. I swear.  I’ve spent several hours/days building a castle made out of sandstone and finally got this underground room to have daylight and an aquarium.  Since I consider this a labor of love and design, I am calling this ART!  Good times.


Pen ink on paper

Week 41- w.c. pelon

Posted: January 9, 2012 in w.c. pelon, Week 41

Matrix-style Crunchbang Linux Desktop Wallpaper

Another Matrix-esque wallpaper, this time for a Debian based Linux distro:  Crunchbang.

resolution: 1280x800

deployed on my dual-boot Linux laptop

Week 41- Sue O’Connor

Posted: January 9, 2012 in Sue O'Connor, Week 41

Abstract Reflections

Week 41- Rachael Peabody

Posted: January 9, 2012 in Rachael Peabody, Week 41

One of my readers/friends asked me to draw them the offspring of two characters and wanted it to look like a red and black betta.  I took some liberties but I think it came out all right.  :: shrug ::  CLOSE ENOUGH

Week 41- Photobug Shar

Posted: January 9, 2012 in Photo Bug Shar, Week 41

The next few aren’t my “normal” entries…. BUT they are creative.  I have a colleage at work that asks for my help to create her ideas for birthday party’s, weddings, marathon’s etc… SO here is one of her ideas for a Family Reunion T-Shirt.

Week 41- Kelly Bennett

Posted: January 9, 2012 in Kelly Bennett, Week 41



 (Trying my hand at poetry this time)

Miracle Christmas Cat

Twas the night before Christmas,
Was cold dark and clear,
and a little black cat
in the road did appear.

His body torn open
by some native beast
intent on making our hero
part of a Christmas eve feast

Our hero cat, Jack,
ran straight to the lights
of an oncoming vehicle
from a party that night

Though red this sleds color,
no reindeer did lead
this SUV and family
saw they were greatly in need.

They scooped up our hero
and calmed his anxiety
bleeding, in their arms
brought him to the NH Humane Society.

They attempted to bandage
his life threatening wounds
so horrifying they were
made the shelter staff swoon

This tough little cat
climbed on my shoulder and cried
as we stabilized, cleaned,
and the wound we did debride.

We tucked in his insides
gave love and a prayer,
then to Capital Area Veterinary Emergency
for critical surgery there.

We prayed on the Christmas star
shining down from above,
to give the shelter a miracle,
an example of God’s love.

The call came in the A.M.
about half past eight
Jack, the Christmas miracle cat,
was doing just great.

Back to the shelter upon Christmas day
In need of a foster home to stay,
I didn’t have space, I had another cat
but his eyes told me plainly,
“I’m supposed to be YOUR Jack!”

“through blood and fear and blinding snow,
and wounds that would have killed another,
I came to you this Christmas Day,
for you to be my adoptive mother.”

One month in recovery a fateful blow hit
Jack’s surgery herniated, it had to be fixed quick,
Just past the New Years lively celebrations,
Jack was back under anesthia, recieving surgical reparations.

Recovery was swift
and sometimes quite comical
getting away with his antics,
in a collar quite conical

December 19th, nearly two years to the day
2011 Christmas nearly underway
our hero Jack, is again getting fixed
further surgery required, more hernias to stitch

But come summer in Meredith
not the dog that’ll be hiking
swimming in Lake Waukewan,
It’s all to Jack’s liking

he’s recovering quite well
no further surgeries in sight and
Jack’s promised he’ll nevermore
with a “fisher cat” fight
but I’ve heard him exclaim, in bed, out of sight
“Meowy Christ-mouse to all and to all a good night!”

Untitled Young Adult Novel

Chapter 4

“That must be the girls now,” said James as he raced up to answer his door. “Wait til they hear what we have in store for them.” He opened the door. “Why, hello, girls.”

“I can tell by the tone of your voice,” said Bobby. “What’s up?”

“Well, what have you girls got planned for Saturday night?”

“It depends,” replied Sherry, who picked some clothes off a chair then sat in it.”

“Well, remember Vinnie?” asked James.

“I don’t want anything to do with him,” said Bobby. She remembered only too well, Vinnie the Death Hawk, who had tried to rape her and Julie.

“You won’t have to,” put in James.

“Go on,” ordered David as he gave Sherry a quick kiss on the cheek.

“It’s his brother, Curt,” said James.

“I didn’t know Vinnie had a brother!” exclaimed Sherry.

“Well, he does,” said David smugly.  “And he is on his way home from college.”

“College?” said a startled Bobby. “Vinnie’s brother is in college? You must be kidding me.”

“No, this weekend we’re having a big welcome back bash for him,” said James excitedly.

“With the help of his girl, Diane,” added David.

“I take it you guys are very close to him,” stated Bobby.

“We were like brothers,” said James. “More so than Vinnie.”

“He and Vinnie didn’t get along at all,” said David. “They almost hate each other. Curt could not stand the things Vinnie did, and Vinnie was terribly jealous of Curt.”

“So, Vinnie’s not going to be there?” asked Sherry.

“Are you kidding?” said James. “He couldn’t get out of that detention hall for that even if he wanted to.”

“Will you girls be our dates?” asked a hopeful yet sure David.

“Sure,” they both replied at the sam time.

“Jinx!” yelled Bobby.

Week 41- Elizabeth Fox

Posted: January 9, 2012 in Elizabeth Fox, Week 41

Week 41- Devin Eldridge

Posted: January 9, 2012 in Devin Eldridge, Week 41

Week 41- Caron Thomas

Posted: January 9, 2012 in Caron Thomas, Week 41

I painted the inside of this bottle.

Week 41- Betty Jarra

Posted: January 9, 2012 in Betty Jarra, Week 41


Week 41 – Amber Perkins

Posted: January 9, 2012 in Amber Perkins, Week 41


Click on the title to see the PDF file.

Week 41- Kevin Contreras

Posted: January 8, 2012 in Kevin Contreras, Week 41

Lego Chopper, Lego Portraits, Lego Peace 

Mesa Center for the Arts- Mesa, AZ  (  This guy is amazing!


Week 41 – Brian Weeks

Posted: January 7, 2012 in Brian Weeks, Week 41

As a kid, I read woodworking magazines like others read The Bible. I’d page through my dad’s collected copies of Wood, Fine Woodworking, and others every chance I got. I was fascinated by the different projects and fantasized about having a redwood four-poster bed, or a maple bookcase with a mahogany inlay.


My father has been in some form of woodworking or another since before I was born, whether it be framing houses or high-end finish carpentry; even now, he is curently building a house using lumber milled from trees he cut down himself from his property.


On Sunday mornings, my dad and I would watch “This Old House”, “The New Yankee Workshop”, and “Hometime” – the only time we’d spend together over the course of a week, sometimes. Even though I didn’t share all of his interests, woodworking and carpentry were the ones we had most in common.


Dad didn’t buy furniture. He made furniture. You need a bed? Let me whip one up. A desk? No problem. Dresser? Chair? Just give me a 12-pack and an afternoon. Nothing fancy, just what was needed and necessary. Even the finished pieces he made were unfinished; that is to say that while the project was complete, he left the bare wood without a finish.

When I was a baby, my father made me a chair. Perfectly kid-sized, I took it everywhere with me, and even used it as a footstool in the bathroom to see the mirror. Over the passing years, I outgrew the chair, as children do, and it became a chair for my favorite teddy bear. An interesting bookshelf next to my desk as a teenager. A funky little plant stand in my first apartment. Then, one day, it became an item collecting dust in the barn, grey and weathered, and a full-length crack down the middle of the back. Maybe it was the natural progression of things.


In the midst of moving a few years ago, I unearthed the chair my father had built for me, and saw what the ravages of time had done to my chair. Not really knowing what to do with it, I brought it to the new house and thought for a long time before coming to the decision to fix and finish the chair for my two neices. I’ll never have children of my own, so it was only natural to think of Jayda and Aubrey – being in the same age range I was when I first had the chair.

I spent a week or so fixing, sanding, and refinishing the chair, and added a plaque on the bottom with the history of the chair – built in 1977 by their grandfather for their uncle, but not finished until 2009. I have a hard time expressing how it felt to present that chair to my two neices that Christmas. Over more than thirty years, it had become almost an heirloom, passed on to a third generation.


In Cub Scouts one year, we had an event called the Pinewood Derby. All the Scouts are challenged to build the fastest car from a kit containing a block of wood, some wheels and a couple of odds and ends. I told Dad I wanted to build it myself and rely on everything I had learned by watching him in the workshop. He didn’t seem disappointed; rather he seemed proud of me. We worked side by side for over a month – me and my car, and he and whatever project he was working on at the time. I asked for advice once or twice, but I never asked for any help. When I was finished with my silver car, I built a case for it. At the Derby, I placed second to the son of an engineer who I don’t believe even laid eyes on his car before that morning. I didn’t care about not winning. It may sound hokey, but the fact that I had accomplished my goal of just finishing the car was reward enough.


My father made me a matching set of short dressers when I was about seven. Again, these were left bare wood. This was a trend in the early to mid 80s, but I’m positive this was not done because it was fashionable – these were strictly utilitarian pieces. But as I’ve stated before, time takes a toll, as does a child growing into an adolescent, and an adult. I’ve been talking about this for a long time, but now I have actually started the project. I am going to finally finish the dressers.

I’m never going to become an expert furniture restorer, nor do I want to, but somehow I feel closer to my dad when I’m sanding, staining, varnishing. It’s cathartic – kind of therapy. Very soon I will have new antique furnitre that I can be proud of; because they will look great with the new dark stain and shiny top coat with some new pewter hardware, and also pride from finishing a project myself, albeit not one I originally started.


Week 41 – Ashley Davene

Posted: January 7, 2012 in Ashley Davene, Week 41

A Sunday Kind of Feeling

 A tin can of flour is shaken off

The yellow paint cracks off and the bottoms a bit rusted

Mama wipes her hands on her apron

The clock hangs lightly against the wall

We never really rely on them

Sure we look at them and they remind us to wake up

To take lunch, to be at an important meeting

And we listen to them in this house for that reason

But other than that momma and daddy have no real place to be

Other then where they are

Atleast that’s how me and brother always feel

When they are wrapped in each others arms

When he’s making her laugh it rings out into the air

And its like time stands still there

We know that everything is right in the world

On these, grace filled Sunday mornings

I wait for the breakfast to be done,

For daddy to think up an adventure

Nothing really passes my mind

everything can wait for tomorrow

Today I am a witness of real love

 I am thankful