Tag Archives: art

Art & Aliens

All had been calm for three hours.  Not a peep was heard from the sleeping toddler upstairs in the white bedroom.

At least, that’s what my babysitter told my mother many years ago.  Mom’s immediate response was a facial expression full of surprise and alarm.  If her little Leah had been quiet for three solid hours, something was NOT RIGHT with the world.  She rushed past her friend and charged up the stairs to the spare room, where I was supposedly napping.


(Three hours earlier)


Mom was making me stay at her friend’s house for awhile.  She had to run errands or work or something–obviously do a great, FUN THING  where a young girl was not allowed to join.  I GUESS I didn’t mind; surely the place where I was to be temporarily abandoned had toys. 

EVERYONE has toys.  Those who didn’t….well I figured they must be aliens from another planet.  And SURELY my mom wouldn’t leave me alone with aliens…..surely……..

Shortly after my mother delivered me to this person’s house, I was stuck in a bright, white room and expected to sleep.  I lied on the bed for AT LEAST four million years (aka 20 min. in real time), and decided it was boring. Naps are stupid.  I figured I had better look for the toys.  I sat up and peered at my surroundings.

Where were the toys?

I saw pillows….blankets…a dresser…white carpet….THERE WAS NOTHING FUN IN THIS ROOM.

What an upsetting revelation!! My mother LEFT ME WITH ALIENS!!!!!  I arose from the bed and began to wander around the room, contemplating how they might experiment on me; for a fleeting moment, I thought about crying, but then…

What I found in the drawers in front of a mirror was FAR better than toys.  A smile began to form on my face….

It slowly spread wider…

…and wider still! 

The grin could hardly contain my excitement!!!

Displayed in front of me in all their glory were tubes of lovely, red paint!!  It smelled sort of funny, and it didn’t taste quite like paint, but it worked JUST the same!!  (In case you don’t realize it, this was not paint, but lipstick.)

  I set about my task.  Surely, I would receive many pats on the head and marvelous compliments from my overseers/prison-guard aliens. Then, after they saw the beauty of my artwork, they may decide that my brain was far too precious to scramble.  Plus, they would HAVE to show me where all the toys were!

I would get to play WITH THEM ALL!!!!  I would be the PRINCESS OF ALL TOYS!!  Or even better—QUEEN!!!!  My rule of the alien-toy kingdom would be written in the history books as the greatest that ever was!!!

I slowly unsheathed the smooth, red “paint”.

Then, I began with the dresser, and moved swiftly to the carpet.  The bedspread and walls were splashed with the deep hue shortly after.  I had no cares that I was also becoming covered in the cherry-colored mess.  This was hard work, and I was going to do a DAMN fine job!!!!


(Three hours later)


My mother opened the door, with the homeowners close behind her.  I smiled up with all the glee I could muster…I was ready for my crown, for my toy-subjects, and for all my praise!


My memory gets fuzzy at that point, but I am told that I was never left to be babysat by that couple again….ever.

Apparently, aliens don’t know what ART is.

A Damning Dime

A Memory:

When I was a young girl, probably around five or six years old, I was so very proud that I knew how to spell my name.  NOT ONLY could I spell it, but I could WRITE it as well as the best of ’em!!  I assume I probably wrote it on my coloring books, finger-painted it on my refrigerator masterpieces, and saw it up in LIGHTS in my mind……………………………………………….

We would go to church every week, and on one particular Sunday, my mother gave me a dime for when the offering basket passed by.  At that age, there were no problems in tossing dimes into baskets like coins into a wishing well.  It was like playing a miniature basketball game in the middle of church!  Slam dunk! Swish!

But until the basket came by, it was just me and my dime in the front pew.  I am quite sure that the pastor was talking about something quite interesting for the adults, but for a small child, it was not something that would be considered enthralling. 

I began daydreaming and considering my options.  The basket had yet to be passed, but I began to warm up on my dime-tossing.  Toss up, catch, toss up, catch….bored again.  What else is there to do?  All of the adult voices around me are just a bunch of blurbs streaming into my ears, not making any sense. 

Then genius struck!  Everyone needed to know how beautifully I could write my name.  They should know!  They should all be PROUD!!  I looked around for a few minutes..no one was paying attention.  Not yet…..and that is when I brought the lovely, ridged piece of metal to the finish on the pew.  The dime was JUST the right size for manipulating like a writing utensil.

**scratch, scratch**


**scratch, scratch**


**scrape, scratch**


There!!! Perfect!! Everyone and their mothers would be so impressed with my magnificent ability to mark down these letters!!  Not only did I write my name, but I created a sculpture!  A piece of intricate art!  HOLY ART!!!!!

………………………………….I waited for someone to see it

……………………….it was beautiful!

…………….and such a creative use of a ten cent piece!

…….I continued to wait for someone to notice…


No one was impressed.

I entered the land of trouble.

Damn Dime.