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D J’s Locker

20x23 watercolor

Framed Size: 28 x 30

AVAILABLE

 

A FREDERICA & CHLOE PICTURE BOOK MYSTERY – PART 11

A series of short-short stories featuring Frederika/Freddie and Chloe, Freddie’s cat

© Julie Gilbert Pollard

Freddie and Wendy are still in Paradise…

But they lose Tommie…

 

I am feeling homesick, yet dreading to go back home as well, due to all the “stuff” that has been happening. Talk about ambivalence.

 

And – do I miss Chloe? Oh my, yes, I do miss my sweet furry little companion. And I’m sure she misses me, though she’s pretty good at hiding her emotions, being a cat and all. That’s OK – I know she loves me.

 

But I digress…

 

Wendy and I still have the rest of the workshop to get through, despite the trouble at home. I know Rogero will take care of things.

 

Plus – Wendy and I had planned to take a few days of vacation after the end of the workshop. Instead of rushing back home and into the fray, so to speak, Rogero has given his blessing for us to continue with our original plan.

 

He’s actually a pretty good egg. We’re not very good at being married, but we’re pretty good at being together-apart.

 

I have managed to compartmentalize, and while conducting my workshop, I give all my attention to my job. I only worry about home after class is over for the day, at which point, I then obsess about how to deal with the crap that has befallen us.

 

Yes, us. It was me to begin with. But then Wendy became involved, and now Rogero. Misery does love company, but I don’t want anything to happen to them. No more concussions, dammit!

 

● ● ● ●

Let me tell you about where we are this week. We’ve been diving John Pennekamp Coral Reef State Park, in the Atlantic, off the coast of the Florida Keys.

 

Alternating scuba diving, snorkeling and photo-taking underwater one day, with painting the “under-seascape” the following day – repeat – we’ve all been having a blast!

 

Wendy didn’t have any idea that she would so quickly fall in love with scuba AND painting. As it happens, she’s doing great at both. I think we have a convert!

● ● ● ●

Now, a couple of days since my last writing, I must report that our awesome time here has been slightly marred by another “incident”. One that did not take place at home, but here in paradise!

 

Before I begin the story, let me assure you that everyone is OK!

 

Today – in spite of all safety precautions – one of my students nearly got swept out to sea – by a sea creature.

 

The creature in question was a playful dolphin who did not understand that “Tommie” (Tommie is not her real name – we are protecting her innocence, as the saying goes) does not breathe through gills. Tommie was snorkeling and gazing down at those of us who were within her sight down at the reef. Totally minding her own business. When a friendly dolphin was suddenly merely yards away!

 

Of course, the first thing she saw was a fin. So, her very first thought was not “Flipper, yay” but – you guessed it – SHARK!

 

In fact: “shark, shark shark, shaaaaark!” is what screams through her mind.

 

Now, as it happens, the previous day Tommie and another one of the workshop participants decided to take the day “off” and drive up to Key Largo to an attraction where you can actually swim with dolphins. The trainers encourage the dolphins – by way of treating with raw fish – to interact with the guests. Tommie and “Deloris” (again, a name-change) were “kissed” by dolphins, towed around the pool by dolphins, and all-in-all, totally enthralled with dolphins.

 

So, today, a day later, Tommie’s initial reaction of raw fear – during which she too forgot that she doesn’t breathe water and nearly drowned herself (it really wasn’t the dolphin’s fault) didn’t last long enough to do her any permanent or even long-lasting damage.

 

In fact, she soon began to think of this creature as the aforementioned “Flipper” and started swimming after him or her.

 

Well, she lost track of time and lost sight of the dive boat. And, unfortunately, the dive boat lost sight of her.

When this loss was noted, we were pulled out of the water and the search began. There was much panic, anxiety, and total fear amongst us all.

 

Fast forward - the captain, dive-master, and crew, being pros, soon found the wayward and very chagrined Tommie.

 

Before heading back to shore we were all treated to a very serious talk (lecture). After, of course, hugs all around!

 

We have one more day of diving and the crew as well as ourselves are so very relieved, after being scared out of our wits. Scuba and snorkeling are recreation - fun! Also, very serious endeavors. We humans were never constructed to be sea creatures.

 

So, in fact, the creature did not sweep Tommie out to sea. That was merely a hook to keep you interested. 😊 Tommie swept herself a bit farther out to sea than she should have.

 

● ● ● ●

This evening, back in the room we share, Wendy and I just look at each other. I can see my own relief and fear from the afternoon mirrored in her face. Oh god, what if…

 

We are – after all the dreadful experiences of the last few months – no strangers to terrifying events. So far, none have been fatal – to anyone involved. Well, as far as we know. The young man who disappeared the day I received the blow to my head has still not been found. What if…

 

We have both found ways to NOT live in terror 24-7. Compartmentalization – that’s my only explanation of how we live our lives like fairly normal people.

 

We decide to have a nice glass of chilled white and watch a movie before turning in.

 

Click. The set stirs to life and a famous shark movie happens to be on – at, you know, the part about needing a bigger boat…

 

We look at each other and – I guess it’s the wine, the day we’ve had, the relief, the fear, the YEAR we’ve had – we burst into giggles. Totally inappropriate, unstoppable, unrelenting giggles.

 

Oh, Tommie – we’re SO VERY GLAD you’re OK!

 

This morning, I think we all feel just a bit “spent”. Everyone, I think, is very glad that the only water we have to worry about today is our watercolor water! Well, that’s a challenge in and of itself, just saying…

 

● ● ● ●

Elkhorn Coral

22x24 watercolor

AVAILABLE

 

Here is the Dropbox link to the PDF document, a watercolor lesson about painting the “under-seascape”:

11_JGPollard_Paint-the-Under-Seascape.pdf

 

PLEASE NOTE ONCE AGAIN: the mini art chapters following a story segment are written and illustrated – not by Freddie – but by Julie Gilbert Pollard - who has kindly allowed Freddie to borrow them for her blog. :) The STORIES are fiction - the CHAPTERS are non-fiction and quite valid!

● ● ● ●

 

I would like to say here - as myself, not Freddie – that quite a few years ago my husband and I along with my sister and her husband, scuba-dived many times in various locations at John Pennekamp Coral Reef State Park in the Florida Keys. According to Google info, “The John Pennekamp Coral Reef State Park is located on Key Largo, the northernmost island in the Florida Keys island chain. It is approximately one hour’s drive south from Miami. The reef runs roughly 221 miles down the south-eastern coast of Florida, paralleling the Florida Keys from Key Biscayne off Miami down to the Dry Tortugas, 70 miles west of Key West, from 1 mile to 8 miles offshore”.

 

Diving the coral reefs over a period of several summer vacations was one of the most awesome and awe-inspiring activities of my life. It makes me very happy that I’ve been able to work this experience into one of Freddie’s adventures!

 

 

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Ittie Bittie Fishies

detail of 20x20 watercolor

This painting is featured on page 3 of my book Watercolor Unleashed

Freddie is taking a break from certain catastrophic events

she's been telling us about - or is she??? 

● ● ● ●

A FREDERICA & CHLOE PICTURE BOOK MYSTERY – PART 10

A series of short-short stories featuring Frederika/Freddie and Chloe, Freddie’s cat

 

© Julie Gilbert Pollard

 

Freddie and Wendy go on a combo working/vacation trip…

 

YES! Wendy and I are in the air somewhere over Texas – destination Key West, Florida, where the azure waters beckon.

 

I’m so excited. It’s been a while since I was on a scuba diving trip. Rogero and I once took many scuba trips together. But that’s an entirely ‘nother story.

 

For this trip I have to work – fun work! My class participants and I will have 3 days of scuba diving or snorkeling, depending on each person’s comfort level (and/or ears) alternating with days spent in “studio painting”, where we will paint the scenes seen underwater the day before. A 6-day painting workshop!

 

“Ears” – you ask? Some people have trouble clearing their ears (a technique that equalizes the pressure in the middle ear) which is necessary in order to descend into the depths and not burst an eardrum. I myself have had ear injuries after not clearing them properly while descending. Then you have to sit out the dives until the ears heal. Once you get an eardrum injury you’re pretty much done scuba diving for the duration of the trip. Flying home by air can also be a problem after an ear injury. So, yes, ear issues can be a real bummer. But you can still snorkel if you’re up to it.

 

And then, there are a few who don’t like all the fuss, what with the necessary equipment and training that allow us humans to swim with the fishes. Scuba diving is very equipment-intensive and all that stuff can be overwhelming. But, oh, so much fun!

 

Wendy had some vacation time coming and when invited to be my assistant – thus, giving her a trip partly paid for – she jumped on the chance. We’ve become very good friends during the past few months, and I am sure she will be a great traveling companion as well as assistant!

 

All is great between us as long as we don’t talk about “Connie”.

 

We are not sorry to leave our “troubles” behind for a couple of weeks, though we will surely miss our furry family. They will be well taken care of in our absence – by Rogero - and will likely not miss us too much. Well, at least Chloe won’t – she’s a cat.

 

That’s not fair – that was a cheap joke. In fact, the last time I left her for several days – well looked-after, mind you – she was so glad to see me when I got home, twining herself around my ankles, purring like a motorboat – at first – for about 3 minutes. Then I got the cold shoulder for the next couple of hours.

 

I was being punished.

 

I actually do relate. I am a kindred soul – artists and cats are both very misunderstood. It is a cross we bear.

 

● ● ● ●

In due time, we arrive at the Miami airport – wait for about 6 months for our rental car – or what seems like 6 months – and are on our way to our Key West Dive Resort. During which, we have an uneventful trip. This is good as we are both anxious to arrive at our hotel and start enjoying the balmy breezes and bathwater-temperature ocean.

 

Yes - putting our troubles behind!

 

We might as well relax and enjoy the drive - it looks to be a long one. And sure enough, we are caught at the Jewfish Creek drawbridge near the entrance to Key Largo. While waiting for a boat to pass, Wendy opens a window and mosquitos – who have been lying in wait – swarm in and practically drag us out of the car to their lair where they will relieve us of our blood.

 

Welcome to Florida!

 

Despite the mosquitoes, I love the vibe of the Florida Keys.

 

And we have mosquitos at home too – though surely not as aggressive as these.

 

And I love the school I am teaching for! Young at Arts School of the Arts – AKA, YASA – is my dream workshop program. YASA takes care of setting up the venue, scuba/snorkeling activities, breakfast, lunch, two dinners, enrolling the participants, and then helping them and me with whatever we might need during our stay.

 

I just show up and teach – awesome!

 

Not to mention of course, having done all the necessary prep work, including the work of many years that has culminated in getting jobs like this one. I bask in my success. 😊

 

I signed the contract to teach this workshop almost two years ago. At some point when scary events began to stack up, I wondered about the advisability of cancelling. But I always do everything in my power to live up to my commitments.

 

Also, I kept putting off the decision – my head buried deeply in the sand – until it was way too late to cancel.

 

And I need the money.

 

So, to be honest, Rogero turned up at just the right time. Of course, he would have liked to come with me as my assistant, rather than Wendy. But NO – I need him to stay home with the pets and keep the home fires burning, so to speak. Our conversation went something like this:

 

“We are NOT together, Rogi – you know that. You’ve just been around the whole damn world, and I wasn’t invited along as your assistant.”

 

“Freddie, you know I don’t have an assistant. Working as I do on a ship, is work, hard work. I wasn’t on a bloody Rick Steves tour as you well know.”

 

“Yes, you worked like a dog. So now you need a rest. So, rest already - rest here. Maybe making yourself useful in MY house for a change. And I’m not going on vacation either – I will be working – hard. B-b-b bloody hard,” I begin to stammer. I’m right on the edge of a total breakdown.

 

Perhaps you can see why we don’t live together.

 

But Rogero takes pity, gives me a hug and promises to take good care of the home fires and also- in the meantime - to take some of the pressure off to help me concentrate on my prep work. At this point, I still had a couple of weeks, but I am much more comfortable getting my lesson plans in order, supplies organized, etc. at least a week ahead. No matter how prepared I am, there are always a ton of last-minute things to take care of.

 

And for that last two weeks before leaving, everything was quiet. I think Rogero was beginning to wonder if all the events we told him about were exaggerated - blown up out of all proportion.

 

The quiet was a blessing – everything got done – and here we are!

 

● ● ● ●

Sunday evening – most of the workshop participants have arrived and introductions are being made at the “meet and greet”. One person missed their connecting flight in Dallas, so is still on the way - and for another, the airline has lost her luggage. No clothing, no toiletries, no meds, no swimsuit, no optical-prescription dive mask, no art supplies – no nothing! But she is here, and her lovely fellow students are offering her everything she could possibly need. Though nobody is quite her size she at least won’t be in her birthday suit.

 

And I always bring a spare basic art supply kit – just in case.

 

So, she will be more-or-less OK while waiting for her luggage.

 

Our school director introduces Wendy and me to the class and gives a little welcome speech, along with some “housekeeping” info and turns it over to me. I give my spiel, and we divide the group into three: those who will have a “refresher course”, those who will get the beginners’ “resort-dive” course, and two who plan to snorkel only. Everyone has their “marching orders”.

 

What a great group we have! They are full of questions - everyone chatting about what to expect on the morrow.

 

● ● ● ●

“The morrow” arrives - Monday morning! We reek of coconut-scented sunscreen, bug repellant, and expectation. I notice a combination of excitement and trepidation. For some of them this will be their first scuba dive! For them and the rest of us who will benefit from a refresher course, there will be a morning of scuba instruction, followed by lunch, followed by diving in the afternoon.

 

Oh, I can hardly wait!

 

I already have my scuba certification, as do some of the others, but a refresher course seems to be a good idea and the school does require it - on advice from their attorney, I’m sure.

 

FYI, the “resort-dive” course does not give one a scuba “certification”, merely permission to dive under the supervision of a scuba instructor for every dive during the week. Safety first is always the motto!

 

● ● ● ●

Everyone – almost – has sailed through the dive class - lunch has been had and we’re all raring to go. We and our equipment are on the dive boat, the weather is gorgeous, the water looks like Windex – so turquoise, so clear, so unbelievably beautiful. I have taken my anti-seasickness meds and am able to enjoy the boat ride out to the dive sites.

 

Even though this was strongly recommended there is one person who didn’t think they needed it and is now “feeding the fishes” as they say in the biz. I also learned the hard way, so I feel their pain. Experience tells me they will feel better once in the water.

 

I don’t give them any class instruction at this point except to just enjoy the experience – have fun. Tomorrow in studio class I will crack the whip!

 

● ● ● ●

Wendy and I are “dive buddies” and we are now on the bottom. We’re only at a depth of about 33 feet but it feels like we’re on another planet. It is surreal and wonderful – truly awesome. I recall that on my very first dive my sister and brother-in-law descended first and were waiting for me on the bottom, waving and beckoning me to come on down – as I am now waving and beckoning to my own “chicks” who are following.

 

I really want to take off and go “Peter Pan-ing” through the waving sea fan corals – but I am their “fearless leader” and have to do my job! So, I don’t.

 

At last, we all gather, “confer” by hand signals and slowly fin toward the reef. Buddies stay together and some go off in loosely-grouped groups.

 

Most have underwater cameras, as do I. We take photos of corals, tiny colorful fish, a shark in the distance, and each other!

 

A word here about sharks. If you are a scuba diver, you long to spot a shark. It’s exciting! The sharks, however, do not long to be around us, contrary to popular belief. If you aren’t feeding them – on purpose, with shark food, not your foot of course - they go in the other direction. At least in my experience. The tiny adorable brightly-colored fish, on the other hand, will get right up in your face if you get too close to their home and maybe, their young. They are fierce – or think they are – and give us the evil eye – but that’s all – no teeth.

 

I am respectful of their home, but there have been a couple of instances where I couldn’t help but get right up close and personal because they are so beautiful, so intriguing, and I want to get close-up photos of them so as to have reference material for painting them.

 

We see several kinds of fish, a Moray Eel, a lobster, and of course many corals. Our “cups runneth over”.

 

 

A Swim-through 

14x20 watercolor

SOLD

To give you a sense of scale, as I recall, the Damselfish

- the midnight blue fish with iridescent spots and yellow tail -

was about 5 or 6 inches long.

 

After what seems a very short time, my watch and gauges tell me that it’s time to surface. For this first dive we haven’t gone far afield, and I see the dive boat above and we head for it - slowly. Upon surfacing, the crew member who is helping us board says, “welcome back!”

 

This greeting reinforces the surreal other-worldly world of the undersea experience. I feel like an astronaut returning from Mars!

 

We all sleep well that night, still excited from the day’s adventures - totally worn out.

 

● ● ● ●

And today we paint. As the instructor, I have a lesson plan prepared and it’s a damn good thing. For I have received a phone call that means – if I am able to instruct my class capably - I am a total professional.

 

There has been “trouble” at home. Wendy and I have not escaped, after all, just had a break - of what, three days? My concentration for conducting this class is now super-compromised. While we’ve been gone, there has been another break-in, this time, the studio.

 

Those sons of…

 

But it could have been worse – Rogero and the animals were in the house – not the studio - so no more concussions.

 

How I would love to sic some of the wildlife I’ve seen here – read, shark – on them…

 

● ● ● ●

 

Foureye Butterflies

16x20 touches of oil over water-media on watercolor canvas

AVAILABLE

Here is the Dropbox link to a PDF document, painting the “under-seascape”:

10_JGPollard_Abstract-and-other-studies-for-the-Under-Seascape.pdf

 

PLEASE NOTE ONCE AGAIN: the mini art chapters following a story segment are written and illustrated – not by Freddie – but by Julie Gilbert Pollard - who has kindly allowed Freddie to borrow them for her blog. :) The STORIES are fiction - the CHAPTERS are non-fiction and quite valid!

 

Read More

 

Egret Above Minnehaha Falls 

detail of 14x10 watercolor

 

Freddie continues with her blog. Where does she find the time???

 

● ● ● ●

 

A FREDERICA & CHLOE PICTURE BOOK MYSTERY – PART 9

A series of short-short stories featuring Frederika/Freddie and Chloe/Sweetie, Freddie’s cat –

And let’s not forget about Wendy and Scruff!

 

© Julie Gilbert Pollard

 

Speaking of exes…

 

And now - Rogero is coming for a visit. Sigh.

 

I really don’t have the energy for Rogero right now.

 

Rogero is my ex who hasn’t ever really exited from my life. He is my ex-husband, but only in practical terms, not legal. Legally, we’re still hitched.

 

I have mixed feelings about this. I still have a soft spot in my heart for Rogero. After all, he is the father of my daughter who loves him dearly.

 

Well - maybe I can put him to use…

 

● ● ● ●

 

“Wendy, this is Rogero, my, uh, sort-of ex-husband.

 

“Wendy, Rogi. Rogi, Wendy. Oh, and Scruff. They live here now.”

 

“Nice to meet you – Mucho gusto”, etc., etc. And, “Hunh?” from both.

 

My bad – I haven’t prepared either for the other. I’ve been busy. And preoccupied. And - “procrastination” should my middle name.

 

Also, Wendy and I haven’t had any of our former “heart-to-hearts” since our “Connie talk”.

 

“Um, Freddie, could I see you in the kitchen for just a sec?” whisper-shouts Wendy

 

“Sure. Rogi, make yourself at home – I’ll bring you a glass of – um, something, OK?”

 

● ● ● ●

 

“Freddie!” Wendy hisses in the kitchen… “What the… Look, do you want me to move out?!”

 

“NO”, I exclaim! “Wendy, I’m sorry. I know it’s all my fault. I just, you know, thought that, well” – I shut my mouth before I can repeat my mistake of a few days ago.

 

“Well, no”, she says, “I know I was being too sensitive. Connie is probably not a horrible person. It’s just…”

 

“I know.”

 

“And now your husband is here – I didn’t know you had a husband! I’m sure you will want some privacy. Scruff and I can be out of here – like fifteen minutes ago!”

 

“Oh - no, no, no – Rogi and I are not ‘like that’ – well, at least, not usually. He’s really just – you know - an old friend at this point.”

 

“Really? …REALLY, really?”

 

“REALLY, really”, I say. “And even if – well – oh, please stay! PLEASE???”

 

You might have to read between the lines of this disjointed conversation to understand how we are suddenly best friends again and hugging and crying just a little. What a relief!

 

Connie might come up in conversation in the future, but I vow to myself NOT to be the one to bring her up – or even mention her name – ever.

 

● ● ● ●

 

Moving on…

 

Rogero/Rogi has been filled in on all the brutal details of our totally messed-up current existence.

 

Knowing Rogero, I should have known he would be supportive and helpful. He’s a good person in a rogue-ish sort of a way. (See what I did there?)

 

I’ve had a hard time even thinking about work. It certainly didn’t help to be banished from my own home. Though it was only for a day, it sure seemed longer. So, now, it’s been a couple of weeks, but I just can’t get over my home being invaded and turned into a crime scene.

 

So, maybe Rogi can take some of the pressure off. Put some new locks on the doors, that sort of thing. And Wendy has had a rough time too. Maybe he can help us both out. I have suddenly had a very definite idea of just how he can do that. But I don’t think I will broach that subject just yet.

 

● ● ● ●

 

But here it is…

 

I have a big travel workshop coming up soon – just a couple of weeks away – that I cannot cancel. I’ve been quiet about it while I mull things over. And now, my mulling time is over. I have to put my plan to both Wendy and Rogero before any more time passes. If it works out, it will be the magic solution!

 

● ● ● ●

 

Fast forward – Wendy and I are in the air somewhere over Texas…

 

● ● ● ●

 

Just wait until you see where Freddie and Wendy and headed!

In the meantime, we hope you enjoy the chapter below:

 

Here is the Dropbox link to the Painting our Feline Friends PDF document:

 

9_JGPollard_Painting our Feline Friends

 

PLEASE NOTE ONCE AGAIN: the "mini art chapters" following a story segment are written and illustrated – not by Freddie – but by me, Julie Gilbert Pollard - who has kindly allowed Freddie to borrow them for her blog. :) The STORIES are fiction - the CHAPTERS are non-fiction and quite valid!

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Summer Bouquet

9x7 watercolor sketch

 

Once again, it’s been a while since we’ve heard from Freddie. I guess we need to "cut her a little slack". After all, she's in quite a mess!

 

A FREDERICA & CHLOE PICTURE BOOK MYSTERY – PART 8

A series of short-short stories featuring Frederika/Freddie & Freddie’s cat, Chloe

 

© Julie Gilbert Pollard

 

Now - about “Connie”…

 

I want to be supportive of my friend Wendy and NOT like Connie either. But now that I’ve met her, I kind of do. Of course, Wendy is prejudiced. “Connie” (we’re calling her that in this blog to protect her innocence - or otherwise…) as you may recall was the girlfriend of Josh (Wendy’s ex-boyfriend) before Wendy was his girlfriend, then ex-girlfriend. I suspect that Josh has a long line of ex-girlfriends who intelligently bailed out of no-doubt-toxic relationships with him.

 

Let’s just say that Josh has a way with women – not.

 

Josh also has some very disreputable – read scary - “friends”.

 

But back to Connie.

 

Wendy doesn’t want to go visit Connie, so I go by myself. I mean, she was in my house and injured there. Not something or someone I can just ignore.

 

I don’t know why she isn’t under police custody or maybe even police protection. She was in MY house without invitation. Just because she was knocked unconscious there doesn’t put her in the right as far as I’m concerned.

 

I guess the police know things I don’t. Go figure…

 

So, I visit her at her mom’s just down the street.

 

I take her a “get-well” vase of flowers and vines I’ve cut from my yard. It’s very pretty. Big of me, I know. I told you I was a good person.

 

Her mother answers the door, we exchange introductions and pleasantries, and Mave shows me to a seat in the extremely un-lived-in-looking living room. After a while, Connie comes in and takes a seat – as far away from me as the limited furnishings allow. Again, I introduce myself. Mave stays, probably feeling protective of her still-recovering daughter. They both look to be a bit defensive as well as embarrassed.

 

I have meant to be kind, reasonable, sympathetic, controlled, etc. But I’m on edge – who wouldn’t be. Everything that has gone down recently has gotten to me. Don’t forget I also received a head wound – she’s not the only victim, right?

 

So, I hope I can be forgiven…

 

When I blurt out, “what in the ‘blankety-blank’ hell were you doing in my house in the middle of the night?!”

 

Tears start to trickle down Connie’s cheeks and I, of course, feel like a monster. A weak monster. I have every right to inquire as to her reason for the uninvited midnight visit. I think they call it “breaking and entering”. But I’m such a wuss – and way too empathetic for my own good.

 

So - oh crap – I apologize.

 

Then Connie apologizes.

 

Mave is sitting beside Connie and squeezes her hand, looking protective, supportive, even while dismayed by her daughter’s illegal actions – all at the same time.

 

Mothers are awesome!

 

Mave gets us all fresh bottles of chilled water – I don’t approve of one-use plastic, by the way – and we begin a real conversation.

 

Connie is actually a nice person who was tricked into meeting Josh at my house. He claimed to need help and that he was currently living at that address – oh, I can’t go on. The spiel he gave her was so bizarre. It’s hard to imagine how she fell for it.

 

Or maybe I’m the one falling for her - possibly fictional - version?

 

Anyway – as she tells it - Josh was almost on his knees begging for her help, explaining to her the mess he needed her help with – when a bulky figure appeared, and she remembers nothing after that. So she says.

 

But why my house? Couldn’t he have met her in a park? A parked car? There are an infinite number of meeting locations other than - my house.

 

I’m not too far gone to realize that she just might be leading me down the garden path with a trumped-up story.

 

I’m torn. Because I can’t help but kind of like her. My instinct is to like her – and her mom. I mean, I’m on the verge of inviting them to tea, for heaven’s sake.

 

Yes, I’m a sad case – a true softie…

 

••••

 

Back at the ol’ homestead, I get Wendy to sit down for “the Connie discussion”.

 

“You know, you don’t have to be jealous of Connie”, I begin…

 

“I’m NOT jealous of that…”

 

“Okay, let me put it a little differently. Josh did a number on her just like he did, you, and none of what has happened is her fault, any more than it is yours.” She puts up defensive hands. “Wait, just hear me out. After all, she was with Josh before you were and YOU didn’t break THEM up – and she didn’t try to break you and him up when you and he were together. Yes, she called – but only to try to get her stuff back.”

 

“So, that’s what she told you, hunh?”

 

“Yes, that’s what she told me – and I believe her. And yes, she did let him talk her into meeting him here and you recall that she got clobbered for her efforts. Yes, she’s kind of a sucker – really, she’s more of a victim than anything. She’s kind of pitiful.” I know I’m laying it on a bit thick. Giving Wendy an opportunity to process a new version of Connie. A version that hopefully will help Wendy feel kinder towards Connie – and maybe even, truth be told - empowered?

 

I mean – she could use some empowerment for sure.

 

Wendy stomps off to her room. Her words, “you don’t know ANYTHING!” trailing off behind her.

 

And she’s right – I don’t know anything about anything.

 

Have I just lost the best friend and roommate I’ve ever had? Albeit a roommate who sounds a bit like a teenager right about now…

 

••••

 

OK – my bad. I should have just stayed out of it. Stick to my own business.

 

And my business is this - my book - that certainly isn't getting itself written!

 

Freddie Introduces You to Painting!

(Don’t worry – Freddie’s editor will surely come up with a catchier title. 😊 )

Garden Zen

11x14 watercolor

AVAILABLE

Here is the Dropbox link to the Garden Zen PDF document:

 

JGPollard_Watercolor_Garden Zen.pdf

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Palatki

8x10 watercolor

AVAILABLE

 

Well, it’s been a while since we’ve heard from Freddie - what on earth has she been up to? I guess I missed her last blog – and if I missed it, that means you did too. 😊 Let’s catch up!

 

A FREDERICA & CHLOE PICTURE BOOK MYSTERY – PART 7

A series of short-short stories featuring Frederika/Freddie and Chloe/Sweetie, Freddie’s cat

 

© Julie Gilbert Pollard

 

Home, sweet home…

 

OMG, FINALLY home – “home” being for the time being, my studio for the animals and me - and a hotel room for Wendy.

 

Now, this of course is old news at this point. The crime scene tape is long-gone from my house and things have “moved along” - though not necessarily for the better. We will get to today’s news in due time. But you’ll be totally lost if I don’t fill you in on the last few weeks…

 

So - to recap - while Wendy and I were watching Scruff tear around the park like a youngster, which he is not, we weren’t watching Chloe who almost got cat-napped. While we were dealing with Chloe after the failed snatching and trying to get her back into her Thunder Shirt, we weren’t any longer watching Scruff, who took this opportunity to run even farther away from our “home base” picnic table, so we had to go chasing him, after of course locking the now somewhat-subdued Chloe into my car.

 

Who knew Scruff had any zoom left in him. I would not have expected this surge of energy. What on earth has gotten into him? Canine Wheaties?

 

By the time we had our animals safely controlled, quite a bit of time had elapsed before we were able to call 911. “Someone tried to steal my cat while I was having a lovely picnic – about an hour and a half ago!”

 

I won’t share with you how the operator dealt with my “emergency”.

 

So, we go on home – mine and the animals’ at least – and Wendy comes with us. Again, we call one of the detectives – name doesn’t matter – he or she is not happy about being bothered by someone bothering us at the park. So, I don’t care about their names. So there!

 

I take a deep breath and attempt to explain why we felt it necessary to go up the food chain from 911 operator to “his or her majesty” a Detective. Yes, I put a capital “D” in my tone of voice.

 

Calmly I proceed: “I realize that all the ‘evidence’ has kind of seemed to be a bunch of disparate events, at least to an ostrich like me. But you guys are detectives” – this time my voice is italicized – “can’t you – in the name of all that’s holy - detect?”

 

Do I hang up on them or does he or she hang up on me? Someone did. Hang up.

 

I’m so frustrated because I’ve seen a picture forming, almost from the very start. And as far as I can tell, they don’t see or DON’T CARE. I mean – are they forgetting about Connie and her concussion? – and mine? I guess a cat-napping pales in comparison.

 

To be fair, the “picture” did kind of sneak up on me too, and I was there.

 

Take for example, the 2 concussions: mine, then Connie’s. Those point to something – but what? Well, obviously the young man who disappeared must be the common denominator. We have been assured that the search for him is ongoing.

 

His ex-girlfriend who was injured in my house is recovering. You’ll meet her later.

 

The big question for Wendy and me is this: are we on our own with this or are the police working on it in the background? The reassurance we are getting is not sufficient. Our lives have been uprooted. And we’re scared.

 

Wendy and I can’t help but try to figure things out for ourselves – for whatever good that might do us.

 

So – bullet points:

• A while back now, while I was peacefully and joyously painting “en plein air” by the river, I was hit on the head (concussion #1) and my camera and smart phone stolen.

• Someone is apparently looking for something that I apparently have - and I don’t know what.

• Someone left a switchblade knife for me to find on my patio table one fine morning – as a threat? – or is that person now wracking their brain for the last time they had it in their hot little hand? The police have it but have not told me if any fingerprints they may have found on it were identified.

• Someone is trying to steal my cat – to threaten me? To make me give them something I don’t even know I have?  

• Two or more someones broke into my house whereupon one of them was attacked and injured (concussion #2) by – presumably - one of the other ones.

• I am forced to feed and water wildlife (Sam, the skunk) as a somewhat unreliable guard-animal.

• Add to all this, Wendy’s threat from Josh – an unfortunately on-going drama. Connected?

We stop listing events. We’ve been over them so many times we’re exhausted.

 

I’ve about had it. How did life get so complicated? If it weren’t for my daughter and her lovely family or for Chloe, who depends on me…

 

Oh – what am I saying. I will definitely NOT throw myself off a cliff. I’m just so…

 

● ● ● ●

 

Wendy and I spend some time badmouthing the detectives, cursing the bad guys and generally feeling sorry for ourselves, etc., etc.

 

But before Wendy leaves for her hotel room, Detective Struthers calls back. We make nice to each other.

 

The cops at this point almost feel like family - dysfunctional family. And we’ve surely seen more of them than we have our blood families. And I know they are getting sick of us - as is quite common among actual family members. Not my family of course…

 

But - they are professionals - and Detective Struthers explains that we caught her at a less-than-best time. She’s had a tough day. I get it. Of course I do. I also have had a bad day – quite a few, in fact.

 

So, she listens with her detective brain – not her I’ve had a bad day brain I hope – and starts detecting. I’m pretty sure.

 

And after this last phone conversation, I do think that Detective Struthers is taking us seriously at this point.

 

“The wheels of justice” – and detecting – “turn slowly.”

● ● ● ●

Oak Creek

10x14 watercolor

AVAILABLE

 

Dear Reader – Freddie doesn't seem to be making much progress on her book, what with everything that's going on. But I am painting rocks - and have been for many years now. Take a look at my article "Rock Solid" in Watercolor Artist, April 2018 issue, 7 years ago this month!

 

Here is the Dropbox link to the PDF document:

 

JGPollard_Watercolor Artist_Rock Solid_April 2018

 

PLEASE NOTE ONCE AGAIN: the mini art chapters following a story segment are written and illustrated – not by Freddie – but by Julie Gilbert Pollard - who has kindly allowed Freddie to borrow them for her blog. :) The STORIES are fiction - the CHAPTERS are non-fiction and quite valid!

 

 

 

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La Siesta Primavera del Gato II

detail of 16x20 oil

SOLD

 

This painting is featured and demonstrated in my book BRILLIANT COLOR.

This kitty is NOT Chloe – but I guess it could be Chloe…

 

● ● ● ●

 

A FREDERICA & CHLOE PICTURE BOOK MYSTERY – PART 6

A series of short-short stories featuring Frederika/Freddie and Chloe/Sweetie, Freddie’s cat

 

© Julie Gilbert Pollard

 

Freddie and Wendy are having twin nervous breakdowns –

Scruff & Chloe exemplify being a dog & a cat…

 

My brain is exploding. The last time we spoke, “sinister event” number – what? Oh god, I can’t even keep track. And what’s the point? They just keep adding up.

 

I’ve lived a good (more or less), kind (I think), productive (one hopes) life so far, but kind of boring, really. At least when compared with the last – I don’t know – how long has it been since I was peacefully and happily painting on the riverbank?

 

I can’t remember. I can’t think straight. I am totally unprepared for what is happening.

 

That, of course, makes it doubly scary to know that I’m also totally unprepared for what might be coming - what is coming. Because I’m pretty sure it won’t stop here.

 

And what is it that is happening, anyway?

 

My scrambled brain just wants to take a nice long nap.

 

So, let’s take stock. I’m scared, I’m puzzled, I’m aghast. And – I’m embarrassed to admit - part of me might even be just a tiny bit - excited? Please don’t judge – I’ve been through a lot lately.

 

But I can’t help but STILL see all these events in an abstract way. The fact that they are real doesn’t quite compute.

 

I mean – a body in my house – a living body, but still…

 

A body not known by me - but known - and disliked - by my current best friend and roomie.

 

What has always helped me in times of stress?

 

My easel calls!

 

● ● ● ●

 

Well, at least I’m already here in my studio-cum-living-quarters. No excuses. Can’t do laundry – laundry room is in the house. Can’t do housework – that would also have to take place in the house.

 

I could do paperwork as my office is in the studio. But, well, that task is easy to discount as an option – especially for the greater good of my mental health.

 

So – finally – for medicinal purposes - here I am, facing a painting-in-progress on the easel.

 

And I stare at it for a while. Decide I would rather start something new. I make a half-assed attempt at that and then sit and stare at that for a while.

 

My eye finally strays to a quotation I have thumbtacked to my vision board. “NIKE says, JUST DO IT”. My own personal favorite adaptation of that phrase is “just – blank (feel free to fill in your own favorite adverb here) - do it!” I take this to heart and feel ashamed of being such a painting wuss.

 

And so, I do - do it.

 

Oh, my goodness, painting feels so good – even when I’m working on a super-challenging passage – even when I realize I’ve made a huge paint mess on my paper or canvas – it still feels good!

 

As I tell my students, “Those who paint thrive on challenge.” It’s true. While simply putting paint on paper is easy, getting all those colors, paint strokes, marks and images to come together in a way that “works” is NOT easy. Partially quoting Art Linkletter, “…not for sissies!”

 

And it usually has nothing to do with being able to draw a straight line…

 

● ● ● ●

 

I lose track of time. My painting is coming along brilliantly!

 

Now, the realistic and objective side of my brain that is hovering in the background knows that this perception is not necessarily correct. When I assess the painting in a day or two, I will likely see problem passages that I don’t see now - while I’m so close to it. Close in terms of actual distance, yes – more importantly, “close” as in mentally and emotionally close.

 

Right now, I’m in love with it and can’t see its flaws. It’s always a “forest and trees” situation.

 

Even though I’ve been painting professionally for quite a few years now, I still go through that “precious” stage in a painting where the painter falls in love with the painting. A seasoned artist knows that this feeling is not to be trusted. For an artist to NOT realize this is dangerous. Dangerous for the painting at hand – and dangerous for our future works.

 

Dangerous for our artistic growth.

I also must point out here that it is also not productive to have an automatic opposite negative reaction to one’s work. This can kill our soul!

 

OBJECTIVITY.

 

To be professional, we must advance to the point of being able to be OBJECTIVE about our art. This is a skill that needs to be honed. This skill is every bit as important - and difficult - as learning how to mix color, say, or any of the myriad other skills that must be developed!

 

BUT - right now, I am loving this painting. And this perception – flawed or not – is serving my state of mind. Elevating my mood. Giving me purpose. I may not be solving the world’s problems, but painting is my job, I’m attempting to do it well, and this brings me a measure of harmony within.

 

But, my oh my, I do digress…

 

● ● ● ●

 

Earlier, Wendy got online and found a hotel nearby. It is not dog-friendly, so Scruff stays here. She would also like to have gotten a hotel suite with a kitchen, but that is a bit beyond her budget. And I don’t have access to my kitchen right now. So, we make plans to go through drive-throughs and meet up at a park. We would have chosen a restaurant but that would have meant leaving Chloe and Scruff at home.

 

It may seem overly protective - but not really unreasonable - to fear that they might be in danger if left home alone, given the recent goings-on.

 

They are a cat and a dog, and they are our respective family.

 

I put Chloe’s “Thunder Shirt” on her which miraculously calms her for traveling – and harness and leash to go with. She might not be as content as she is at home, but she’s relatively okay with this outing.

 

Scruff, on the other hand, seems to have regressed to puppyhood in this park. No fences, no leash, no boundaries. He’s usually so inactive that Wendy doesn’t leash him as you are actually supposed to do.

 

I’ve never seen him so animated. He actually romps! Chloe remains aloof.

 

He’s a dog – she’s a cat.

 

Now, if I were watching this story unfold on TV, I would expect one of the animals to be kidnapped or poisoned or some such awful thing - at the park – or on the way home – etc.

 

This does not happen.

 

This is not to say that this does not ALMOST happen.

 

Wendy and I are sitting at the park bench conversing idly – including a lot of speculation about Connie (remember “Connie, the body”?) - and watching Scruff cavort. Surely, he doesn’t have it in him to continue on in this manner for much longer…

 

In other words, we are not watching Chloe who is sitting quite passively somewhere behind us in her Thunder Shirt.

 

I don’t even know how long we sat there, finishing our sandwiches with a little vino – just a taste of course as we’re both driving.

 

Suddenly we hear a feline yowl, followed by a human scream - and cursing - coming from behind. We swivel around, already halfway to our feet. A bulky figure stumbles backward, catches himself – herself? - turns and runs – sprints – away, apparently as fast as his legs can carry him, leaving a trail of red splatters on the ground.

 

Chloe is standing with arched back, fur on end, fangs exposed – wild and outraged – in other words, a pissed-off cat.

 

Her Thunder Shirt - somehow having gotten entangled with her harness and leash - has come undone during the attempted kidnapping - and she is no longer docile.

 

The Thunder Shirt works. The cat burglar did not know this. Unfortunate for him – fortunate for Chloe and me. I still have my normally sweet-tempered beloved kitty in my “possession”. I just have to get her back into that shirt.

 

This is not going to be fun.

 

Green Eyes

8x8 oil on cradled board

This also is definitely NOT Chloe – not even close. And absolutely not the same personality.

Not sure I would want the task of putting this cat into a Thunder Shirt…

 

● ● ● ●

 

Dear Reader – Freddie is falling behind with her book. In the last episode she included a short chapter about painting “man’s best friend”. So, her follow-up chapter was to be on painting cats. Alas, Freddie does not have that chapter ready. But we have something for you to peruse, nevertheless.

 

● ● ● ●

 

PLEASE NOTE ONCE AGAIN: the mini art chapters following a story segment are written and illustrated – not by Freddie –

but by Julie Gilbert Pollard - who has kindly allowed Freddie to borrow them for her blog. :)

The STORIES are fictional - the CHAPTERS for “Freddie’s” book

are non-fiction and quite valid!

 

Would you like to see a chapter showing how I paint watercolor on canvas? This PDF was used by North Light to advertise my book Watercolor Unleashed when it came out. Here is the Dropbox link to the PDF document:

 

JGPollard_Watercolor Unleashed_Chuparosa-at-Lost-Dutchman_watercolor-on-canvas_for story 6.pdf

 

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Jackson

8x8 watercolor on cradled panel

This is not Scruff - but I think he might look a bit like Jackson.

Just look at those soulful eyes!

 

A FREDERICA & CHLOE PICTURE BOOK MYSTERY – PART 5

A series of short-short stories featuring Frederika/Freddie and Chloe/Sweetie, Freddie’s cat

© Julie Gilbert Pollard

 

Wendy and Scruff are back – Freddie’s house becomes a crime scene...

 

They’re baaaaaack!

 

Wendy and Scruff are back, and Chloe and I are delighted. We do like having the house to ourselves - but we also enjoy their company.

 

So, it’s all good.

 

Plus, the fact that I spend so much time in the studio. As you may recall, my studio is a detached building behind my house, separated by a rock garden with flowers, shrubs, and a tiny bit of grass – the grass being fortunate, now that we have a dog in residence.  

 

And now that Wendy is here, going home in the evenings, I am often met with the wonderful fragrance of dinner being prepared. This arrangement might work out quite nicely!

 

Wendy is the BEST cook, and she likes to feed people. And I like to eat - but seldom actually cook myself a meal. She even cooks for Scruff. Maybe Chloe will benefit as well?

 

Wendy has had some trouble finding and affording her own place. And I can always use some help in the financial department, though I keep her rent low. She does feed me, after all.

 

I haven't chosen the most financially stable career path. I should have done something easier with my life. I sometimes think that even being a brain surgeon would have been easier than trying to “make it” as a visual artist.

 

I haven’t had the audacity to ever actually say that to a brain surgeon…

 

:)

 

I digress…

 

So - a bang on the head coupled with camera and phone stolen, followed by a super-slow car  driving by – even slower by my house? - with an ominous vibe issuing from within while everyone else zooms down our street, a switchblade knife left on the patio table, and a possible intruder who appeared to have been chased off by my resident skunk. Is this really enough to have me freaking out? I guess in the world of true crime, these events could seem kind of lame.

 

What do you think?

 

Well, I think I’m being kind of self-centered. Think about it. I have welcomed Wendy back to my home – for her benefit, sure. But also for my own. With all the scary events, it feels safer somehow to have a house mate, albeit not a strong male presence.

 

It’s only fair to fill Wendy in on everything. I haven’t, for example, mentioned why I put out “skunk food” at night.

 

Of course, she has her own scary stuff that might follow her here.

 

So, maybe it’s a toss-up as to who is helping who and who is putting who at risk.

 

(Who? Whom? I never can get that right.)

 

To be honest, there’s less anxiety in worrying about grammar than – well, you know what…

 

● ● ● ●

 

So - night before last, I worked in the studio all night, working on a deadline. I mean, really all night. And Wendy works night shifts. Chloe stays with me in the studio, and I often bring Scruff with me too. I’m getting quite attached to that little old guy.

 

Bottom line, the house had no occupants during the wee hours.

 

Wendy gets home from her shift at the hospital to find the back door lock broken and the door ajar. No dummy, she doesn’t go in. She sees the lights on in the studio and comes pounding on the door.

 

No, I didn’t hear a sound during the night. My windows are shuttered so I didn’t see anything either. Obviously, those are the first things she asked me.

 

I also question: where was that skunk when I needed him or her? Really, I should give it a name – a non-gender-specific name. I once had a cat who went from being called Samantha to Sam. Sam, it is!

 

We’ve called the cops so many times now, we feel a bit embarrassed about calling 911 yet again. We look at each other. Should we or shouldn’t we check things out first?

 

I have a pepper spray – she has a pepper spray. We are armed! We are NOT shrinking violets!

 

We leave the – useless in these circumstances – Chloe and Scruff in the studio. Without much protest I must add. They couldn’t care less about any danger their humans might face.

 

Trembling, we silently and bravely – more-or-less – move toward the house, our phone flashlights on. We push open the back door.

 

Actually, we TRY to push it open, but something is blocking it. It feels like something kind of soft and squishy – perhaps this is in retrospect, because how could we feel something like that through a door?

 

I know you know what’s coming.

 

Through the crack in the door Wendy’s flashlight picks out a glimmering blob of a liquid red substance. Of course, we both want to scream and run. But Wendy’s a nurse and her instinct is to give aid.

 

We don’t scream – we don’t run.

 

While I call 911 Wendy reaches through the opening to see if she can feel whether there actually is a body and if it is alive or…

 

I can’t even say the D word…

 

● ● ● ●

 

I HATE drama. Well, we now have it in spades. My little home is now a crime scene. Fortunately, the crime isn’t classified as – the M word – yet. The body has not expired. But we don’t know what his or her prognosis is. They won’t tell us anything – even the gender.

 

Will they, at some point in time, send us a pink or blue balloon?

 

I know – I’m making light of a very, very, very, extremely, enormously, massively serious situation. Someone was attacked in my home in the middle of the night. What was this person doing there and why, oh why, was he or she cudgeled there?

 

We think that’s what happened at least. We weren’t technically privy to what was going on after the police and paramedics arrived. But eavesdropping was not above either one of us as we sat shivering on the patio waiting for Tom to come talk to us.

 

Yes, him again. Does he ever get time off?

 

As we strain our ears, we also quietly compare notes on what we have heard and observed so far, each of us adding to the other’s database - as it were - of the crime. No, they didn’t separate us as you see on TV.

 

● ● ● ●

Finally, after giving our extremely limited accounts of what happened – as we know it - we shuffle off to the studio to find “insult added to injury”, so to speak.

 

Chloe has a litter box, but Scruff doesn’t. ‘Nuff said. Poor Scruff. He was left with a full bladder for too long – def not his fault. Wendy cleans up after him and we settle in as best we can.

 

My studio is never quite large enough to house all my wonderful “art stuff”. And as much as I try to keep everything neat and tidy, it remains something of an “organized mess” most of the time – until such time that the mess distracts to the point of interfering with the creative juices. Then I have to sort it all out, hoping it will stay sorted long enough for me to get some actual work done.

 

Let’s just say that it is not in its tidy sorted state after my long hours of work tonight. The “work”, as I’ve said earlier, consists of painting and conducting painting instruction, the latter being my “bread and butter”.

 

My bread-and-butter work and all other studio work is now compromised. Naturally, the house is off-limits for us until Tom or one of his cohorts tells us it’s okay to move back in. in the meantime my small – at least not house-sized – and already much lived- and worked-in studio – must accommodate all 4 of us. At least until we can figure out what to do, where to stay.

 

Where Wendy can stay, really. I can sleep on the couch in my studio and the animals can stay with me. But Wendy needs a good night’s sleep for her next shift at the hospital. We need to find her a hotel room.

 

But for now, we’re both dead on our feet – OMG, did I just use the D word – after working all night. Well, most of the night. Dawn has not broken yet.

 

We bed down on the hand-me-down sectional couch and try not to bump feet at the “intersection”.

 

● ● ● ●

 

Both detectives visit. Both Wendy and I are bleary-eyed after only a couple hours of restless sleep on the sectional.

 

Chloe and Scruff are irritatingly awake and bright-eyed – as are the detectives.

 

Detectives Struthers and Hunter. Bright-eyed even though they have definitely been on the job and now ready to give us some information. Of course, they will only tell us enough to enable them to get info out of us.

 

Quid pro quo is what they would like for us to think. But we’re not that naive. We know they are only sharing whatever will benefit their questioning of us.

 

 

In other words, other than what will be advantageous to them, they don’t intend to tell us squat. 

 

So anyway, they inform us that the victim found in my house last night is none other than the girlfriend of the missing young man from the riverbank.

 

Like me, she was hit on the head. Like me, she will recover, they are told. But she isn’t well enough for them to interview yet.

 

They show us pictures of her given to them by her mother – who lives right down the street!

 

Nevertheless, I can’t say I recognize her.

 

But Wendy does! In fact, she knows her very well – and doesn’t like her – at all.

 

We’re not supposed to talk about anything we’re told. So, let’s just call her “Connie”.

 

Connie – according to her mother – has been “laying low” since the event at the river. She hasn’t been arrested for causing the disappearance of her boyfriend. I thought she was at least a “person of interest”, as they say.  As the current victim I doubt she’s a suspect now. But maybe she is – what do I know. Some of the mysteries I read are really convoluted – maybe real life is too.

 

Guess who she is? You got it – Wendy’s ex’s ex.

 

Okay, I thought my scary event and Wendy’s even scarier situation were completely separate. But now there seems to be a link?

 

As they say, “the plot thickens”…

 

 

Sami

8x8 oil on cradled panel

 

This also is not Scruff. Sami is now a little old lady dog - and the sweetest! She is my great-grand-dog. I think Scruff might have looked a bit like young Sami in his youth.

 

Oh, Those Baby Blues!

11x14 watercolor

 

Likewise, this is not Chloe. Perhaps Chloe looked a lot like Simon in her kitten-hood!

 

● ● ● ●

PLEASE NOTE ONCE AGAIN: the mini art chapters following a story segment are written and illustrated by Julie Gilbert Pollard, not Freddie. :)

The STORIES are fictional - the CHAPTERS for “Freddie’s” book are true and valid!

 

Would you like to see a chapter showing how I paint a dog? Here is the Dropbox link to the PDF document:

 

JGPollard_Watercolor & Oil Unleashed_Paint Our Best Friend_for Story5

 

 

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Freddie

 detail of 18x24 watercolor on watercolor canvas

 

This is the real Freddie - named "Chloe" in this story.

She passed a few years ago of old age.

She lived her life on her own terms and was a real "character"!

 

A FREDERICA & CHLOE PICTURE BOOK MYSTERY

Episode 4

A series of short stories featuring Frederica Jones and Chloe, Freddie’s cat

© Julie Gilbert Pollard

 

Life goes back to normal BUT Freddie has a furry nocturnal visitor – smelling like a rose?

We think not…

Wow, the house feels so empty. It is. Wendy and Scruff have moved out and on. Scruff and Chloe were never pals exactly, but even she also seems to be a bit at loose ends. Anthropomorphism R US!

 

So, the two of us rattle around in this smallish house. We’ve had no more “sinister events” Or at least, nothing much until a couple of nights ago, that is, but more about that later. And life has seemed pretty normal.

 

Of course, I still think of and wonder about the fate of the disappeared young man that I have heard no more about. Yes, I did talk to Detective Struthers after the last incident, but she didn’t seem all that interested. Polite - but “sheesh, this nutty artist is just too much” is pretty much the vibe I felt roll off her.

 

I have some shadowy and disturbing memories that surfaced when I began to work on my painting from that day. But they won’t quite come into focus. Are they truly memories or simply fear generated by my concussion and wild imagination? These “memories” - dreams? - or whatever they are - are difficult to articulate – especially to Detective Struthers. It really didn’t help my verbal skills when I didn’t feel like she was even listening.

 

So - I make an effort to go back to normal and to feel like normal. And truly, life is so normal that I really have nothing much to tell you about. I work, Chloe walks on my keyboard while I’m trying to write my book - when she’s not chasing a sunbeam or curled up in a nap.

I’ve decided I want to come back as Chloe!

 

Actually, the book is coming along pretty well. My editor is pleased but ever so fond of presenting new deadlines. I’ll give you a sneak preview of the latest chapter in a minute.

 

So, back to that one “nothing much” thing I alluded to above.

 

We seem to have a new resident! One evening as I sat on the patio gazing into distance without much on my mind, my peripheral vision caught a bit of movement in the far corner of the yard. Focusing on it, I caught the tip of a fluffy tail as it disappeared around the corner of the wall. We have stray cats come into the yard from time to time, but it didn’t really strike me as actually being a cat. So, I sat and quietly gazed at the location of the last appearance, and after a few minutes the creature came back, a quite-beautiful black and white striped creature.

 

Uh oh.

 

He - or she - sauntered back and forth for a minute or so, then disappeared again. This wildlife sighting is kind of exciting, yet a bit scary as well, as you can imagine. I need to be careful not to leave out any food scraps or other skunk enticements. Skunks are pretty cool animals - at a distance. I hope he/she keeps his/hers!

 

● ● ● ●

 

Having a skunk isn’t really an abnormal occurrence, though they usually aren’t right in my yard. But nothing sinister about it, right?

 

● ● ● ●

 

There was, however, a slight disturbance during the night, a few nights ago. At roughly 2 AM or so I heard shouting and cursing - and gasping? - followed by the sound of a car’s motor squealing off into the distance. What? Sometimes our neighbors can be a little loud, but these particular sounds were a bit out of the ordinary.

 

And now, a few days hence, my mind starts to whirl. Noises during the night. Cursing and choking sounds before the roar of a car racing away. Scent of skunk hanging heavily in the morning air. My mind is furiously “doing the math”. I had an intruder. Or at least a would-be intruder.

 

Chloe is NOT a guard cat. She will be no help. I keep her inside for a couple of days to make sure she is no hindrance either. And I’ve not seen nor smelt hide nor hair of the skunk since.

 

But wait just a minute - could it be that I now have a guard skunk?

 

● ● ● ●

What do skunks like for breakfast? I think I will feed the skunk.

 

● ● ● ●

So, I decide NOT to notify animal control - for now. I can now get back and forth between house and studio without holding my breath. That route was a bit tricky the following day. I bundled Chloe up in a towel for the transfer as I didn’t want the “fragrance” to get into her fur.

 

I’m pretty sure she would not be fond of a tomato juice bath.

 

And I wore a shower cap and raincoat because I don’t think I would enjoy it either.

 

● ● ● ●

Well, “normal” was nice for a while. Considering that “sinister events” – for which I now think this applies - are accumulating - is this #3? - how on earth have I managed to do any work on my book? I am truly a wonder woman. (Smile.) I know you have been waiting to preview my current chapter! Coming right up...

 

● ● ● ●

PLEASE NOTE: the mini art chapters following a story segment are written and illustrated by Julie Gilbert Pollard, not Freddie. :)

The STORIES are fictional - the CHAPTERS for “Freddie’s” book are true and valid!

 

Raindrops on Roses

detail of 11x14 watercolor

SOLD

 

Would you like to see the chapter showing how I paint drops of water? Here is the Dropbox link to the PDF document:

JGPollard_Watercolor Unleashed_Paint a Drop of Water_for Story 4

 

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Mingus Mountain Winter Roadside Scene

detail of 10x14 watercolor

AVAILABLE

 

WELL, IT’S STILL JANUARY

I HOPE YOU’RE STAYING WARM! 

 

In this episode Freddie finds a switchblade knife on her patio table, she and Wendy freak. Freddie finds her “missing photos” in “the cloud”, which – combined with re-visiting the painting begun on the riverbank on the “fateful day” – causes disturbing memories to surface.

 

● ● ● ●

 

A FREDERICA & CHLOE PICTURE BOOK MYSTERY

Episode 3

A series of short stories featuring Frederica Jones and Chloe, Freddie’s cat

 

© Julie Gilbert Pollard

 

 

Hi - it’s me again! My not-so-fluffy-anymore-but-still-beautiful cat Chloe and I have been humming right along.

 

Unfortunately, cats don’t bark. So, if Chloe was aware we had a visitor during the night, she’s not telling. And poor little old-man Scruff didn’t raise an alarm either. Yes, he and Wendy are still staying with us.

 

This morning, I took my morning coffee out to the back yard to enjoy the fresh new day, birdsong, etc., only to find a switchblade knife on my patio table. That ugly, ominous, horrid “gift” and nothing more. Nothing else that I could see disturbed at all.

 

(“Sinister event” number 2. Do you recall the first “sinister event” from our last visit? Well, I’m starting to recall this and similar occurrences - not yet mentioned - that certainly didn’t strike me as ominous at the time, though they did catch my attention I have to say.)

 

Lordy, lordy, this is distressing. Wendy works a night shift and sleeps much later than I do. I decide to wait until she wakes up naturally to give her this little piece of news.

 

Her ex-boyfriend Josh is a real piece of work and not a comfortable topic of conversation for us - and this conversation will go right to pointing the finger at “you know who”. Of course, this knife in all probability doesn’t have anything to do with him. But fairly or un-fairly, my mind jumps straight to him - and I feel the need to talk to her before going into a tailspin, call the police, make accusations - do things I might regret if I don’t think things through first.

 

Jumping to conclusions is just so easy to do – TOO easy.

 

● ● ● ●

 

Wendy gets up - we talk – she’s freaked - I’m freaked.

 

Perhaps I was in shock earlier, but now my fear has escalated, in part because it’s contagious. On telling Wendy, she jumped to the conclusion I was trying not to, and I find myself in lock step. We’re both really scared. If it had been an isolated incident - but it isn’t. She and I have both had scary experiences and we can’t help but connect the dots. There are just way too many conclusions available for us to jump right onto.

 

● ● ● ●

 

After calling the cops, the - you guessed it - same policeman from before is now here, taking our statements. When we last saw Tom (as you may recall, we were quickly on first-name basis with Tom-the-cop FYI) we were so caught up with Josh and all that mess that my assault, accident - whatever it was - was not mentioned. So, Tom didn’t know anything about it.

 

I fill him in. “I’m not a detective” he says, “but I’ll make sure my report on this complaint goes straight to Struthers and Hunter. One of them will be in touch.” Off he goes.

 

● ● ● ●

 

So, Wendy and I are left to stew and speculate and finally, to go about our scheduled days. Wendy takes Scruff for a walk; I tackle Chloe’s sand box. Mundanity does have a way of taking one’s minds off of drama. To be honest, I much prefer scooping the litter box to thinking about a switchblade knife and whatever skulking entity might have left it for me to find.

 

Okay, I guess my mind is not completely distracted. So, I find another loathsome task to occupy it - bookwork and paying bills - yuck!

 

● ● ● ●

 

But now, back to the studio - yay! Let’s see - how long has it been since I was bonked on the head? A few weeks now?

 

Doing some of my despised bookwork has jogged my brain. Well, hmmm, on “the day” I “lost” my camera I also took some shots with my phone – also “lost”. Now, those photos sync directly to the cloud. Why had I not thought of this before? So much going on. I wonder…

 

Logging into my cloud account I go back to that day in pictures. For a moment I find myself distracted from what happened to my head and devices by my photos of the beautiful river and the rescued painting that I still need to finish. I had gotten off to a pretty good start on it. I’m so glad to find that not all of my photos were lost. Art does distract.

 

But there - what was that? Well, a blurry shape - of what? A few other pix also have blurry shapes that kind of look like a third person talking to, looming over - attacking??? - the young couple?

 

My fearful, evil imagination takes off on its own for a bit. I pick out the best shot, put it into Photoshop, zoom in, sharpen. My skills are mediocre and what I come up with really doesn’t look like “evidence” at all.

 

But what do I know. I will turn these images over to the detective from whom I’m waiting to hear. Now back to ART! My doors are securely locked, and Chloe is curled up in her basket.

 

Time to paint. Woo Hoo! I pick up the painting from my plein air day at the river, put it on the easel.

 

Now, you might think that this painting would have a dark scary shadow hovering over it, given what happened while I was painting it. But remember, I was happily working on my masterpiece when everything went black without warning, and I woke up in the hospital with no memory. I was so unaware of the violent occurrences on that day that my painting has no dark vibe at all.

 

Or so I thought.

 

My palette set up, I turn to the canvas...

 

Gosh, what genius put in those beautiful purple shadows on the bank? (Smile.) Let’s enhance the sunlight streaming through a break in the clouds with a bit of transparent Lemon Yellow mixed with Titanium White. Well, a bit too bright - I temper it with a wet-into-wet less-bright mixture at the edges to soften the transition between the bright sun and those gorgeous mysterious shadows.

I’m in my “right brain” now, the muse is visiting - however you think of that near-magic state of mind that happens when we really get into the painting process. Wow, I am truly a painting virtuoso!

 

But…

 

NO!

 

No, no, no, no, no. My muse has turned on me - she and the photos have awakened my subconscious - and the memory of something I was not consciously aware of at the time has surfaced…

 

● ● ● ●

 

Dear Reader, Freddie is now quite distracted indeed and not able to work on her book at the moment. But she’s got some chapters “in the can” so to speak. We’ll let you see one of those.

 

● ● ● ●

 

PLEASE NOTE ONCE AGAIN: the mini art chapters following a story segment

are written and illustrated by Julie Gilbert Pollard, not Freddie. :)

 

The STORIES are fictional - the CHAPTERS for “Freddie’s” book are true and valid!

 

Goldfield Wildflowers

8x10 watercolor

AVAILABLE

 

Would you like to see the chapter showing how I painted this scene in a simple, straightforward manner?

Here is the Dropbox link to the PDF document:

JGPollard_ Watercolor Unleashed_Paint a Simple Landscape_for Story 3

 

Read More

 

HAPPY CHILLY JANUARY!

 

Starting this brand-new year, I wanted to do something different. This “blog” is a continuation of a series of short, short - SHORT - stories featuring fictional heroine Frederica Jones and her sidekick cat, Chloe. This is Story #2. You may recall that Freddie was hit on the head while plein air painting and awoke in the hospital with no memory of the attack, no camera and no phone. She relies on that camera and that phone - what a pickle!

 

Some of the stories will be followed by a chapter describing and illustrating "how-to" paint various subjects - written and illustrated by me, not Freddie. Fictional Freddie is an artist and art author who is working on a book - yes, a book about painting! I have allowed her to borrow my chapters for her book in progress. :) The "art-book chapters" are accessible by clicking on the Dropbox link at the end of the story.

 

I DO hope you enjoy - I can tell you that I'm having fun with them. And I welcome all feedback.

 

I hope that 2025 is off to a good start for you!

 

• • • •

 

A FREDERICA & CHLOE PICTURE BOOK MYSTERY

Episode 2

A series of short stories featuring Frederica Jones and Chloe, Freddie’s cat

© Julie Gilbert Pollard

 

My head and life return to normal after a time, but the young man does not. And I can’t get him out of my mind. Of course, my personal safety concerns me as well – after all, I was hit on the head and my camera and phone stolen. That surely cannot be totally coincidental to the disappearance of the young man. But my life goes on…

 

• • • •

 

Bzzzzzzz – my brand-new phone buzzes…

 

“Hey, Mom, how’s your head?”

 

“I’ve got a dent the size of Cuba!” hahaha “I’m fine, Honey - all healed, how are you? How are the kids, the new job, Rick? When are you coming to see me? I’ll take some time off!”

 

“Well, Mom, you know I can’t really take time off just yet…”

 

“Oh well, wishful thinking. I just miss you guys!”

 

We chit-chat for a while and then say goodbye. How I miss them!

 

OK, back to work. Got stuff to do.

 

One of the “stuff to do” is a trip to Frames R Us to pick up my latest batch of (expensively) framed paintings, then to package them up and send them on their way to one of my galleries.

 

“No, Sweetie, you can’t come with Mama”, as “Sweetie” – properly named Chloe – twines herself between my legs and almost trips me on my way out the door. I love my cat. She’s not much of a guard cat but she’s wonderful cozy company. She’s not quite as fluffy as she was in her youth, but I still think she’s beautiful. We have a good life together - my cat and I...

 

 _{This is the real Freddie – named "Chloe" in this story. She passed a few years ago of old age. She lived her life on her own terms and was a real "character"!}

 

As I pull out of the garage, I wait patiently for a car that’s traveling slowly down the street - lingering a bit slower in front of my house? I’m happy to see someone finally obeying the speed limit – our street has become a speedway, a veritable Indy 500. We need speed bumps – I won’t hold my breath.

 

(BTW, this is “sinister event” number 1 that I’m happily unaware of at the time.)

 

• • • •

 

The paintings look great – my bank account doesn’t. Such is the financial life of an artist.

 

Paintings efficiently and safely packed away in my SUV I think I’ll stop for a bit of lunch. What I have at home simply doesn’t sound appetizing. A lunch treat to myself! I love to have lunch, all by myself reading a good book.

 

However, after standing in line and ordering, I’m called out to by a friend I didn’t notice when I came in. “Freddie, come sit over here! We’ve got some catching up to do – I’m so glad we bumped into each other – how the heck are you?” She’s talking so fast - and seems to be forcing a bright demeanor - but I’m glad to see her – so I pretend not to notice. In fact, I talk kind of fast, myself:

 

“Oh, I’m fine now. It was kind of scary though. And I just keep thinking about that guy that disappeared that day. You know, I think I saw him and a woman playing around in the water right before I got hit on the head - you know? The police questioned me and everything. And my phone and camera never turned up,” I begin to stammer, as she looks kind of blank. “Uh – did you hear about all that?”

 

“What?! What on earth are you talking about? You got hit on the head? Are you okay? Honey, tell me what happened!”

 

I fill her in. “I guess I thought it was “news” - kind of self-centered, hunh?”

 

“No, of course not. I’m just going through some stuff and not really keeping up.” Then she starts to cry.

 

“Oh, Wendy, what’s going on?” She fills me in - hesitantly at first - then, the dam breaks and she spills the whole sad scary mess she’s in.

 

Oh boy, are we a pair. We’ve been friends for a long time, though closer to mutual friends than to each other. But as we share our troubles, we form some kind of bond we didn’t have before. And we share our recent goings-on, back and forth, give and take.

 

While my situation is disturbing – hers is shocking.

 

“I just don’t know what I’m going to do. The situation with Josh (who she's living with) scares me to death - his "friends" scare me to death. I think he’s into some bad stuff. His personality has changed. He won't talk about it. We aren't close at all anymore. Obviously, I can't help him. And I'm scared for him - but I've decided I need to leave. Save myself, I guess."

 

"I’m just trying to get up the courage to go get my stuff. I’m not going to be one of those women who stay around too long. Of course, to be honest, I’ve probably stayed too long already. But nothing truly horrible has happened yet. I hoped… Oh, stupid, stupid, stupid…”

 

The tears won’t stop, and they drop onto her partially-eaten sandwich. My own frightening incident pales in comparison. Her hurt and fear bring out my motherly instincts - I want to help. A plan forms.

 

“Okay, here’s what let’s do – I doubt anything too bad would happen if there are two of us. Let’s go get as much of your stuff as we can gather, as quickly as possible. If he’s not there, great. If he is, well, I’ve got my pepper spray.” Hahaha – making it sound jokey. “Really, let’s get you out of there and you can stay in my guest room for a while, just to get yourself sorted. It’ll be kind of fun, I mean, if you’re not too heartbroken. You can get over him, right?”

 

She grabs my hand, squeezes it and nods, but can’t seem to speak. She’s really overwrought. “Okay, calm yourself, we won’t be able to get much done if you can’t calm down. Take some deep breaths. Come on.” She does.

 

“I’ve just felt so alone. I’ve been too embarrassed to confide in anyone. Boy oh boy, didn’t you just come along at the right time! I’m so sorry to get you involved, Freddie. You really don’t have to do this. I just feel so stupid.” And so it goes - but she does calm down now that she has some support. 

 

I’m not as brave as I sound. I REALLY don’t want to go to Josh’s apartment. To be honest, being in an uncomfortable position is almost as frightening as the thought of possible yelling and cursing or even, god forbid, violence. But I want to be a true friend and Wendy needs the support. Let’s do this and get it over.

 

After taking my paintings home to make space in my car, I meet Wendy at the apartment she’s been sharing with Josh and we're lucky - he’s not there. Wendy has stiffened her metaphorical backbone and is efficiently gathering papers, toiletries, clothing and filling her suitcases and the yard bags she stopped to get on the way. There are only a few pieces of furniture that are hers, a couple of lamps, bric-a-brac and smaller occasional tables we push into her trunk and my SUV - the larger ones will have to stay for now. We’re both anxious to get out of there before Josh gets home, but we stay just a bit longer than comfortable, trying not to leave anything she needs for her life – or her dog’s life.

 

Yep, she has a dog. Oh boy. In for a penny, in for a pound. “Come on, Scruff.” I know Chloe, AKA Sweetie, will just love this - NOT!

 

• • • •

 

Clean sheets on the guest room bed, clean towels in the bathroom, newspapers and yard bags under Scruff’s crate just to be safe – my guest room has new carpet. We open a bottle of wine, cuddle with our respective pets and fall asleep on couch and in recliner before we can drink more than a few sips of wine. It’s been a busy day.

 

The morning brings sunshine and coffee and an uneasy expectation of the present - and the future.

 

Chloe is wary of Scruff but not as indignant as I had expected. Scruff is also old, not a puppy, so he’s not jumping around and getting in her business. He’s a good dog and very sweet – and has been house trained for a long time. All is well in that department. The newspapers, yard bags, and carpet stay dry.

 

In the other department, however, all is not at all well. Josh is pounding on the door, yelling obscenities and I call the cops.

 

Wendy is sobbing and apologizing, and I almost wish I had come straight home after picking up my paintings.

 

How did he know Wendy was here? I give her a look. She looks down – won’t meet my eyes. Yes, that was a bit stupid, as she had already self-diagnosed.

 

The policeman who comes seems to already know Josh and I think, oh great, buddy loyalty. But the cop is professional and tries to talk Josh down. “Knock it off, Josh. You’re acting like an ass, and I’ll take you in if I have to.”

 

Josh has been drinking and tries to throw a punch at Tom, the cop. Tom, the cop, however, knows his stuff and deftly - and not all that gently - transports Josh to the back seat of his cruiser. After a few words to Wendy and me, off they go.

 

“Come on, Wendy, why did you even talk to him, never mind telling him where you are! You know I’m your friend and I want to help, but you’re gonna have to totally cut things off with him. You’re not willing to put up with that situation anymore – and I for sure am not!” I don’t wait for an answer. I don’t want to badger her – I’ve had my say and I want to start my day.

 

I can only imagine how hard all this must be for her. I’m appalled by what she’s going through. I’m sympathetic – I’m in her corner. But really, to tell him where she is? Not that smart.

 

The stuff that didn’t get done yesterday, finally gets done today. I’m exhausted but excited to know that tomorrow will be a painting and book-writing day!

 

Tomorrow comes and I’m off to work. My studio is a converted barn-like structure behind my small, old, run-down house, separated by a flower and rock garden. I love the separation of house and studio. When I go out the back door I go to work. Minimal distractions.

 

So, I put my/our scary issues out of my mind and get down to business! For the chapter I'm working on today, I'm continuing the topic of painting a white flower. Really, a white anything! "Painting white" is a topic that could fill many chapters all by itself. Well, here is the chapter...

 

• • • •

 

PLEASE NOTE: the mini art chapters following a story segment are written and illustrated by Julie Gilbert Pollard, not Freddie. :)

The STORIES are fictional - the CHAPTERS for “Freddie’s” book are true and valid!

 

Would you like to see the chapter showing how I painted Water Lily?

Here is the Dropbox link to the PDF document:

JGPollard_Watercolor Unleashed_Paint a White Water Lily_for Story 2

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