Friday, January 30, 2015

Wallet Woes of the Frugal Foodie Fashionista

Irmgard probably suffers from Pinners Syndrome, where your board is too big and your bank account too small.




















Tuesday, January 27, 2015

Coating of Snowy Reality

This comic may be a bit meta, but it makes me laugh.

And where we live we are getting pummeled by snow, we live in polyester down-filled coats the size of Rhode Island, and have a fear of running low on bread and milk (remind me again why we don't have our own chickens and cows?), I thought that this would be quite an appropriate way of ushering in the first blizzard of 2015.

For those of you just joining us, Irmgard is Lucy's cynical and fashion-savvy sister, Leo (Lucy's husband) loves coffee almost as much as Lucy, and Krystall, the blonde, is their cousin as well as Irmgard's roommate with the terrible singing voice.

Remember, if you can't read the text, open the image by either clicking on it or opening it in a new window.


Monday, January 26, 2015

I don't mean to bug you...

...and yes, I'm aware that ladybugs are actually beetles.  But if you would just share my campaign, that'd be dandy!


Friday, January 23, 2015

Showering























Note: the caption says FEELS like.  If you choose to actually wear clothes while showering, that's your own business.  Her dress is merely for illustrative (and of course family-friendly) purposes.
Although with the speed at which I need to hop out of the shower, remaining fully dressed is sometimes an option.

Thursday, January 22, 2015

Owl be so excited...


If you can't contribute, please share my campaign (or at least this adork-able owl I drew today)!

indiegogo Artist Ave

Tuesday, January 20, 2015

Trouble in the Gosling Nest

My knowledge of Ryan Gosling goes as far as the memes that I've seen on Pinterest.

So when I was searching for images of actual goslings, you know who showed up and he completely changed this comic.


Saturday, January 17, 2015

Support me, maybe?

https://www.indiegogo.com/projects/artist-ave-by-julie-kersting/x/9617312

Friday, January 16, 2015

Cursed Auto-Correct























EVERY TIME I write "love" you it ALWAYS changes it to "live you."

Why?!

How does this make ANY sense???

And yet we soldier on...

Thursday, January 15, 2015

Artist Ave by Julie Kersting

What's going on at my house?

Well, remember all of these comics that I've been doing, those illustrations that I've done, and that pesky website full of gallery images?  Now I'm going to bring it to your house at affordable prices!  Greeting cards and prints will soon be available through the etsy.com store that I am creating, titled Artist Ave (read that as avenue or ave as in Maria...which ever you like).

I want to provide the personal touch, the affordable art, the unique look, but I need your help!

Many people cannot afford the cost of a real piece of art, so it is my goal to fill your homes with the unique drawings and paintings that I have been working on for the last twelve plus years and am continuing to produce.  They range from comedy to landscapes to familiar and unique illustrations.
Your help will be the foundation of this campaign.  Alone, I will only be able to produce a few greeting cards at a time, but together we can fill the void in the fine art greeting card and print scene!  
All funding will go to the initial output of original art greeting cards and prints, a scale and label printer for mailing, unique packaging, and advertising.
Anyone who contributes $10 or more will get 50% off the order of their choice when Artist Ave by Julie Kersting on etsy.com opens, which will be by the end of the month of February 2015.





Wednesday, January 14, 2015

Framed

My darling mother-in-love gave me a gift card to A.C. Moore, so yesterday I was able to start something that I hardly ever do: frame my art. The "Little Women" illustrations that I painted in 2012 are acrylic on unstretched canvas, so I purchased ready-made 18" x 24" wood frames. Dang, those things ain't cheap!

It made me remember that most of what holds any artist back from doing gallery shows is not lack of art, but lack of funds to properly display said art. There are SO many canvases and hand drawn pieces I would love to tour some how, but I simply can't display them. 

Even framing the "Little Women" cover painting will be tricky, since it's not quite a standard size and it is on stretched canvas, therefore I will need a custom frame. 

So a shoutout to my beautiful donor for these starters. 

Now I'm just waiting for payday to get a few more before the frame sale ends!



Friday, January 9, 2015

Mental Anguish

It takes a high school three hours to perform a Shakespearean tragedy.
It takes my three year old twelve seconds.

That's not the only difference.  Both high schoolers and parents were prepared (about 3-5 months of rehearsals) for the performance.
My three year old gives no warning.  He's the ultimate flash mob.  And he's smart.  He knows just where to kick you in the shins, where to hide (I honestly think that he prefers Spiderman for the ceiling dangling capabilities), and then can pull on the big goo-goo-eyes of repentance when he's done.

He moves so fast that you wouldn't be able to catch him on mall security cameras.
The almost two year old toddler is the same.  The other night she decided that it would be a good idea to throw a tantrum in the bathtub.  Only her tantrums consist in falling to the floor on her stomach and kicking.  Add water to that and you'd have a case for the court, except that vigilante mom was there to catch her.  

No one, I repeat, no one is prepared for toddler tantrums..

Anyone can be prepared for a badly acted Shakespeare.







Tuesday, January 6, 2015

Night and Day

Ever read the lyrics to "Night and Day"?  Read them as a tired parent crying out for...sleep.  I swear, the whole song was secretly written as a parent in love with the idea of sleep.

And when you find that magic thing that will put your baby to sleep, it's like the difference between night and, well, day!  Throw the book away, go with your instincts...
Unless your instincts are wrong.
;)
























Friday, January 2, 2015

Dishocalypse

I love the Food Network.  It's clean (as in I can watch it in front of ages 0+ and not worry about content), I get ideas for amaze-sauce food, and, hey, it's entertaining!  But then there's the preparation.  Have you ever downloaded one of their recipes?

Let's take the Lobster Tail.

Prep time=20 minutes.

LIES.

I don't have clarified lemon butter, lobsters, skewers, a fire pit, and the coal from the kidney stone of a volcano demon lying around the house.

They should make a drop-down menu for situation-based prep time.

Single person who is prepared and lives in Hawaii: 20 minutes

Mom: 25 years

First is the time to get the kids in the car.
Half an hour to forty minutes, because we have to go potty, make a new potty chart, give a cookie reward, find the baby's/Cinderella's lost shoe AGAIN, retrieve hats, go back in for wipes, possibly a snack, flush the goldfish down the toilet that died in between cookie chart and lost shoes and hold a funeral--make sure to call priest and find out if they do last rites for goldfish-- complete with tissues made from toilet paper, leave at last, and then turn around again for the list because by the time I reach the store I will be distracted by the angered cries for free cookies from the cookie club.

Then the fifty hours IN the store trying to find the bizarre ingredients that are staples in Martha Stewart's home but no one else's and then the seventy hours IN the checkout with the inept bagger and the new cashier.  How do I ALWAYS get the trainee?  And I've been there, that new cashier, so I am very patient and kind, more so than the three year old who practically stares laser beams into anyone who addresses him with a smile.


Then we have to load the car.  Seventy hours after rebagging the two lobsters separately so they don't maim their precious tails that were 80 bucks a pop, we are ready to go.

Three days later we're home.

Walk in the door.  And everyone screams for food, even the volcano demon.  So I put some minutes for sandwich time (short order cook pro here), cleanup time, likely bath time for baby and volcano demon,and  then nap time.  And by then a week has passed, I have had a coffee (cold, not iced, just cold, and two weeks old), the lobster has taken up residence in the cereal cupboard and terrorizes the two year old who has named the lobster Fluffypants and tries to pet him.

Now it's time to find the necessary cooking devices that I got as a wedding present and never thought I'd use.  There are some skewers at last (shaped like lightsabers) and, hey! a cupcake display.  So now it's time to find a good cupcake recipe.  Fluffypants helps to make the batter and the kids lick the bowl and the husband pouts because he didn't get to lick the beaters, but he was sleeping anyway.  Then there's the time spent wondering how many times one can use the word "so" in a sentence while the two year old screams at you while you type a blog post instead of shoveling yogurt in her face and the five year old eats the cupcakes even though he was supposed to be arranging them on the display.

After a month the volcano demon finally passes his charcoal kidney stone and I heat up the fire pit that I had the kids dig under the pretense that it would be a pool some day.

Cook Fluffypants.

Eat it while the two year old wails and the five year old cries that you ate and cooked their pet.

Remember that there was a second lobster for your husband to eat and discover it beneath the slats of the three-year-old's car bed.  Three-year-old and lobster, dubbed Captain Claw, have the same laser beam glare shooting into your head.

Leave Captain Claw as a pet.

Cook up some frozen chicken strips for your husband.

Three years later, do the dishes.

Twenty years later, let the grandkids dry said dishes.

When in a wheelchair, write a letter of complaint to the Food Network to amend their prep time.  Pat Captain Claw on the eye-stalks as he putters around my lap.

Sounds about right, yes?