Category Archives: Art Piece


MP grabbed the camera the other day morning and while I showered … er, put on a hat … and got ready … threw on a sweatshirt … she took photos. She then asked if she could take the camera with her in the car on the way to school.

I like to call this MPs POV.

Yes, those ARE  both her feet. She has a pair of red boots. She has a pair of green boots. She likes to wear one of each. Wanna guess what her favorite holiday is?


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Mommypie and the Technicolor Dream Moat

Tuesday after work, I went to my regular volunteer gig at one of the local after school programs. It was cold and snowy and rather than freeze my butkus off


I opted to help out INSIDE the gym. First, I was asked to help a fifth-grade girl with her math homework.

Here’s where it’s important to note that math, in any way, shape or form, gives me hives. My brain just doesn’t work that way. Never has. Complete iron curtain.

“You know all about angles, right?” asked the teacher’s aide.

“Sure!” I answered. I also enjoy protractors, square roots, trailer park tornadoes and mind-numbing gas pain.

I moved on to my next student.

Who needed help with long division.

Er … okay, admittedly, it’s been awhile since I had to divide anything without the aid of a calculator, but meh — I thought it’d be cake. I had an inkling there might be a teensy problem when the answer came out to be something like 154823.2. I suggested we check our work and showed her how using multiplication. She did this:


GOT ABACUS?!? Clearly, I haven’t been in the math loop for awhile. Or EVER. What the hell is THIS? Come to find out she was a transfer from New York. And that made me feel better.

It was then my wayward inner teacher found her compass. A little boy sitting all alone with 25 tubs of Playdoh.

Oh yeah.

He wanted to make a castle. At his suggestion, I began with the cannon.


Which totally looked like a bubblegum cigar some expectant father should be passing out in a hospital waiting room. Or, according to my playmate, a big purple poop. Take your pick.

From there, our little project took on a life of its own. Kids quickly started coming to our table. Everyone wanted to build a part of the castle. I taught them what a moat was. They added alligators. The boys made bombs to protect the castle. The girls made food for the princess to eat inside the castle. The teacher aides looked at us with horror as they realized we MIXED the colors.


It was a thing of beauty.

AP Photo of Dick Butkus


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Homegirl’s Got Skills

MP drew this portrait of Poppy the other night.

Then she told me she wanted to take ‘artist’ classes.

I dig it.


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Drill Diva’s Holiday Decorating Tip #31

Grammy says she likes Shabby Chic.

In this case, Redneck Decorating Tips may be more accurate.

Either way, I think she’s on to something.

Eat your heart out, Martha.


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Children See. Children Do.

Wow. I’m probably the last one to see this, but just in case I’m NOT, here it is.

One of the most powerful ads I’ve ever seen.


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Did someone say Endowment for the Arts?

The Venus of Willendorf is a 4 3/8 inches high statuette of a female figure estimated to have been created between 24,000 BC and 22,000 BC. Discovered in 1908, very little is known about its origin, method of creation, or cultural significance.

The Venus is thought to be an idealization of the female figure and possibly a fertility idol, however, the purpose of the carving is subject to much speculation.

And here we have the lesser known PENIS of Willendorf, circa [August] 2008 AD.

See that thing between two giant man legs?

It’s a Dough Dick.

And I’m not quite sure WHAT it means.

When I asked MP what it was, she looked about as clueless as I was speechless.

“Uuhh, a rock?” she shrugged.

“Did you make this yourself?” I asked. “Or did someone help you?”


Here’s where Mommypie breathes an audible sigh of relief.

“Wow. You did a really good job!” Er, yeah.

Perhaps some day, 26,000 years from now, some dude wearing breathable Space Khakis will unearth this Pre-Schoolian sculpture from a tar pit where The Pie House stood millennia before, and declare it a rare find — a tool presented to brides-to-be in an primitive ritual known as “the Bachelorette Party.” Back when procreation involved actual sex instead of the commonly practiced clone method, of course.

Truth is, I’m not even convinced MP remembers making it at all. Which isn’t unusual, considering the multitude of art projects she brings home every week. But … it DOES have her name on it. And … it IS displayed on the mantle.

Like a smuggled pre-Cambrian archaeological find.

Which, growing up we actually HAD on our mantle. One day I accidentally knocked it from its perch and broke off the figure’s nose. I cannot adequately express just how pissed my parents were. I was devastated. I carried the guilt for YEARS. Until we found out my uncle bought it at some roadside tourist stop in South America.

I digress.

Were this a NYC penthouse, and were I fabulously rich and famous, the Dough Dick would no doubt be assumed a bona fide, historically significant archaeological discovery. And I’d be so proud that not even Donald Trump had one on HIS mantle.

I am the proud owner of a Dough Dick. The only one of its kind.

Trump THAT.


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Home. As Seen Through MP’s Eyes.

Gave MP the camera tonight with the task of photographing “home,” and told her to surprise me.

Oh how I love this kid.


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Paging Marilyn Manson

The other night, in bed, MP decided to do a little drawing with a black marker. More specifically, she decided to draw on a Dora Valentine she received from Bobo.

At 9 p.m., she walked out of her room, and with an odd look on her face, handed me the card.

“Oh, look … you … colored Dora …”

“Yeah,” she said, her eyes now brimming with tears. “I was trying to make her look pretty.”

“Oh …

“But now it looks scary.”


“Yeah, it does, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t want it. Can you take it?”



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Four is Officially Kicking My Ass

MP brought home this self portrait last week.


Out of all of them, I like this personality best. Happy Sybil.

Sadly, we don’t see as much of Happy Sybil these days. It seems Whiny, Snotty, Bossy, Tearful and Crabby Sybil have formed an alliance and voted her off the island.

I miss Happy Sybil.

To help weather the storm, I’ve decided to use this ridiculously cute rendering as a focal point … while I breathe through the pain.

And to remind me there are still a few things about four that DON’T suck.


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