The Glasgow Courier - Serving Proudly As The Voice Of Valley County Since 1913

By Sandy Laumeyer
Just A Thought 

Bits and Pieces

 


Once again it seems time for a bits and pieces column.

A couple of weeks ago, I decided to dye my hair. No particular reason for it other than I thought it would be fun to do. Because my hair was completely white, the light golden brown dye I chose turned my hair to a copper color. It’s been a good 30 years since my hair was that color. But that’s okay. I like it enough I just may keep it that color for a while.

One of my sons said he wasn’t shocked at the color change. He told me that he and his siblings know to expect the unexpected from me.

About two years ago, I took a watercolor painting class. Now I sometimes have trouble drawing a straight line even with a ruler or on the computer. And I never considered myself an artist in any way.

The only painting I’d ever done ... other than inside and outside my house ... was with a set of fingerpaints I received for Christmas when I was six-years-old. I painted quite a few masterpieces at that time. My Grandpa said they were so they must have been.

At any rate, I kept on taking a class now and then in watercolor painting. Sometimes the class even included working with acrylic paints or watercolor pencils or colored pencils. I thoroughly enjoyed every one of them. I even managed to paint a few pictures that weren’t half bad.

So when the opportunity came along to attend a five-day watercolor art class in Sheridan, Wyoming, I took it. And I’m glad I did. I learned a lot, had fun visiting with the other artists in the class, and enjoyed every single minute. The last day of the class, the instructor stopped by my table and after looking at a picture I was working on, said, “For someone who is fairly new to watercolor painting, you are doing very well.” You can bet I had a smile on my face for several days afterwards.

For the past month, I’ve had grandchildren at my house almost every day. Last week, my nine-year-old grandson presented me with a handful of flowers he’d plucked from some weeds in the ditch behind my house. I immediately thanked him for his gift and put it in a glass of water. He saw flowers where many people would have seen weeds.

Not to be outdone, his three-year-old sister went outside and returned with a fistful of flowers still on their vine. With a big smile, she handed me the vines and said, “I picked these flowers for you, Grandma.” So another glass was filled with water and for a few days all the flowers decorated my kitchen table.

A trip to the ER one evening resulted in good news, a solution to my problem, and even a mild scolding from the doctor. One of my sons told me, “Mom, I remember you telling me you might not like taking these pills, but you need to finish them in order to feel better.” Funny how what you tell your children comes back to you at times.

The past few weeks have brought me smiles, love, revisiting old memories, an enjoyable trip, and new memories. What more could I have asked for?

 

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