The acrylic painting Llama that I made for an opening in November 2011 is now available in print form.



I have 8 x 10"'s (click here) and 5 x 7"'s (click here) available on Etsy. If you're interested in a larger size, you may email me at beth@bethmeadows.com.

The prints are of exceptional quality, printed on archival cotton rag paper with light-fast inks, meaning they won't fade over time. They are also signed on the back and fit in standard-size frames.

The New Year is upon us and yes, I've made some resolutions. I know some people think it's pointless, but I think it's a great thing to do. I can always use some motivation and goal-setting to move forward.

My resolutions have to do mostly with making better decisions for a healthier, sounder life. Many things in life are ultimately out of our control, but there are little habits I've formed over the years that are getting in the way of the things I really want.

Maybe I won't get those things in the end. I can't be sure of that now, but day-to-day, I'd like to see if it's possible to chip away some of the bad and add on some good.

So here are some of my resolutions in no particular order:

1. Be a fastidious planner.

I've been reading the Artist's Guide by Jackie Battenfield. It's really great if you'd like to or are thinking about devoting your life to making art. One thing she talks about early on is making goals and then making a plan to reach those goals.

One way she keeps on track is by printing out and hanging up a whole year's worth of calendars in her studio so she can see them all at one time. I plan to do this in the next week.

Amongst many art-related plans I need to make and keep track of, I am also excited about planning some vacations this year, something I failed miserably at doing last year. This girl needs an ocean in her life! Fast!

2) No clothes or shoes buying, at least until June, maybe until December.

There are several reasons why I'm doing this, but mostly it has to do with wanting to manage money better and to plan at saving and buying things that are more expensive. If I keep frivolously buying clothing (I have a mild addiction to dropping cash I don't really have every time I go to thrift stores or Target), I will never be able to buy certain things that are more out of my reach. This also ties into Resolution No. 1.

3) No fast food in 2012.

You're probably thinking Ew, fast food is so gross. That will be easy. But, no, it won't be.

Fast food is delicious, convenient, and cheap, and in 2011, I formed a nice habit of eating it at least once a week, maybe more. I sort of blame my friend of the male persuasion for this (guys can get away with eating crap way more than girls/I can). I also blame my addiction to salt, but I'm ending my love affair this year, not only for my health, but also to ponder over where my food comes from and how important that is to me.

With that said, I will miss you, Chic-fil-A 8-count nuggets and McDonald's french fries.

I've made more resolutions, but I'll leave sharing just these three.

May 2012 be a blessed one.

The way I remember it, when I was a freshman in high school, I received a couple of very significant things and a couple of  insignificant things.

One insignificant thing was a really bad version of Meg Ryan's haircut in You've Got Mail. It's my own fault for going to A Great Cut to have it done, but hair grows, so it wasn't the end of the world.

The second insignificant thing I received was a noticable amount of weight gain, a result of being bed-ridden and given mostly brownies to eat. The reason for being bed-ridden was because of one of the more significant things I received that year:

A patch to cover a hole in my heart. I was told it was Gore-tex in material, but really, that didn't matter too much to me. What mattered was that after having my sternum broken in two and my heart man-handled, I woke up. That's really all you can hope for in a situation like that.

The second significant thing I received near the same time as my surgery was a yellow lab puppy named Honey. She wasn't just my dog, but I always put it together that we got her as a result of my open-heart surgery. Maybe she would be a good replacement if I didn't survive, and if I did survive, she would help me make it through high school, as my older sisters were going off to college one by one.

There I was, chubby, sporting a terrible haircut and a healing wound right down the center of my chest, with the prettiest, sweetest dog by my side. I was a lucky girl.

***



As I healed and Honey grew, we spent a lot of time together. Who can tell what a dog really thinks, but context clues pointed to the fact that Honey's favorite activity was going to Shelby Farms, a large park in Memphis. As soon as we'd enter the parking lot, she'd start whimpering to get out of the car. I'd let her out, we'd walk through the gate together, and in a flash, she'd take off for the nearest body of water. I'd walk along the trails while she ran vast circles around me. She never grew tired.



The same wild dog had a soft side. Many nights or mornings, she'd climb in my bed. I couldn't sleep with her through the night because she snored, but her affection was the sweetest. Or maybe she was needy. She'd follow us around the house all day. She always wanted to be near someone, and she always wanted a good pet. How do I know? Because every time you sat down, she'd get right next to you and put her nose on or under your hand. If you gave in to pet her, she'd wriggle slowly, tail wagging, until you were scratching her rear end.

She was never mean, maybe disobedient, but always loving and always sweet. Always.



***

This Christmas, Honey was 13 years old. She could barely walk around or get up and down. Many times she'd fall down or slip. No more walks with her or trips to the park, but she was still the prettiest and sweetest dog.

***

Last Monday night, my last night in town, my sister Ginny told Catherine and I that we should go in and sit with Honey on her bed, a palette my mom made her out of sheets and cushiony things in our dining room.

"You never know if she'll make it through the night," she said.

We walked in the dark room and all three sat around her. Honey woke up and we talked to her and pet her and told her we loved her.

I left town for Knoxville the next day, and two days later, Honey died.

***

When I talked to my sister Catherine yesterday, I asked her why we even bothered having pets. We are all completely devastated.

Today, after a night of sleep, I know my question yesterday was selfish. Honey gave far more unconditional love and affection than I could ever learn how to give. She was a dog worth giving a home and loving as best as we could.

But, oh! How badly we'll miss her.

Almost every morning around 7am, my neighbor spends thirty seconds starting his car. Once it's started, he revs his engine for another 20 seconds or so.

Simultaneously, I lie in bed awake, fuming.

***

Most mornings in between 3am and 5am, I wake up and can't fall back asleep until about an hour before my alarm goes off or the revving of the engine starts outside my window, whichever comes first.

I eventually fall asleep, deeply, so when my alarm finally goes off, I often hit snooze for thirty minutes to an hour.

Putting my alarm across the room so that when it goes off, I have to get out of bed to turn it off, hasn't cured my snooze addiction. All it means is that I walk back and forth between my phone and bed for about thirty minutes, in five minute intervals.

It's completely masochistic, insane, bewildering.

***

One early morning while it was still dark, I woke up from a dream that I realized has been recurring, in theme, for a long time. The scenario changes, but the feeling is the same.

Basically, there is a problem to be solved or task to be completed- I have to find someone, gather something in boxes, prepare for an event, or take an exam. I work to accomplish the goal, but the end result is unreachable. In all my might and effort, I can't complete what I set out to do.

I see the person I'm trying to find, but they disappear. The things I put in boxes keep falling out. I gather what I need to for an event, but they keep escaping me. I go from room to room on my high school campus, unable to find where I'm supposed to take the exam.

The tension and frustration is palpable, as everything I want or need becomes elusive. I wake up, relieved it was a dream, and by the time I'm fully coherent, I forget the dream altogether.

***

Although reality grants me the ability to accomplish small tasks throughout the day, there are still the White Stags in my life, ever-elusive goals I can't fulfill.

I'll hunt them down with time.

***

I know one thing. The impending reaction to my neighbor and his revving engine is becoming less and less elusive.

I worry.

I worry about people who are addicted to their smart phone. I worry when friends play games on their phones during social gatherings. I worry that people mistake The Daily Show as a reliable news source. I worry whenever I watch a reality TV show. I worry when I write on someone's Facebook Wall, if it's for them or me. When I am on my couch watching an inspiring documentary or movie, I worry if my life could ever be as inspiring.

I worry.

One of my favorite painters recommended I read the commencement speech given at Stanford in June 2007 by Dana Gioia, former chairman of the National Endowment for the Arts. If you are an artist of any type and you worry, you should read it.

I have one more mason jar painting to make to reach my goal of 100. Here is No. 99, which you may purchase here.



No. 100 has been claimed by a friend, so that leaves a few at Magpies Bakery and a couple that are also listed on my shop.

I thought at this point I'd know more how I felt about continuing to make these after I reached 100. I'm not burnt out on them, but I'd like to take a break to concentrate on some drawings I've been wanting to make on paper.

In other news, I just booked a show at a coffee shop in Memphis for February (more on that later) and am working on showing at a very popular dining establishment in downtown Knoxville come spring. (can you guess which?)