Christmas on the horizon

Art modeling is a lot of thinking and noticing. The classical music in the dim room,with the patter and scratch of charcoal on paper. The room is cold except for the cone light above my shoulder. I can see the tiny hairs on my arm as I look down at the nail driven into the wooden platform. The nail has a happy face scratched into it from years of wear. I think about making a graphic novel. I mentally cast the people I know as character models. I think about my medium, pen and ink or wacom tablet? I would need a G5 for sure; my poor old iMac is bogged down with family photos and book illustrations, my version of Photoshop is outdated. My wrist has gone numb. I shift my weight a fraction, leaning into my hip and allowing a hot rush of blood to pour into my hand, prickling my fingertips. My cold white hand turns pink. I think about my Christmas cards. My inlaws love Sears portraits. It would be cost-effective to just button up my pride and bring the family down for a sitting. I could stick those cheesy 5x6 portraits into those holiday cards with the windows cut out and send them en mass to the mainland folks. Or perhaps I could make a drawing to decorate the cards. My sore knee shoots pain up my leg. I snort hot breath onto my shoulder and hold very still. My skin under the light has a sheen of sweat; my skin in shadow has goose bumps.

beepbeepbeepbeepbeep Time's up.

When I arrived home, chilled to the bone, I put on the kettle and mixed up three cups of hot cocoa. I poured in eggnog flavored coffee creamer. Piled them up with mini marshmallows. Mike and I sat on the couch, watching our little boy lick the melting marshmallows off the rim of his cocoa, obviously enjoying it. Some things in life are just perfect.