tacos

The trip kicked up the mud in the water. I pulled out autumn decorations and lit scented candles, figuring a change of seasons might improve things. When that didn't work, I baked cookies. When that didn't work, I painted. I bought a miniature pumpkin to use as a model, thinking I could somehow make it look more interesting than just a miniature pumpkin - and I failed. It just looked like a stupid boring pumpkin with some dead leaves around it.

*sad trombone*

I sat and stared at it and wondered if I could even paint at all. Considered pitching my easel out the studio door, but the studio is in the basement, so I'd have to heave it up a flight of stairs. Pitched myself out, instead. Probably should have pitched the miniature pumpkin.

The next day I had a doctor's appointment down by the art museum, and decided I should go sit with the dead artists for a bit afterwards. I did not do that, however, because while I was in the waiting room I became sidetracked by the office decor.

Buddha says, "You're going to feel my hand for a moment."

A women's doctor's office needs uncomfortable pictures of fruit. Like lemons. Or peaches. Or melons. Or... TACOS*. I suddenly decided it was VERY IMPORTANT that I find a taco. And paint a picture of the taco. The taco would be everything the miniature pumpkin was not. I could get gold leaf and paint heavenly gilded tacos, and be famous for my inspirational taco paintings.

I need more friends, I think.

Anyway, my workshop is in 3 weeks. For the past month, I had been doodling pictures of cabled sweaters and tall boots in the margins of my planner during staff meetings, and then suddenly the air conditioning started working again, blasting the library with an arctic wind that cut through my leather blazer like cheesecloth. I looked at the thermostat. 68 degrees. I looked at the temperature in Seattle. 43 degrees. Wadded up my romantic fall style notions and marched down to the thrift store to buy the heaviest, down-lined-iest, fur-trimmed-iest parka I could get my hands on. Found something with Korean labels that looks as if it may have been made for surviving a nuclear winter. My legs stick out the bottom like Popsicle sticks. They will probably freeze and snap off. I don't need legs for painting, anyway.

and I guess it makes my arms different lengths

I don't know about October, you guys.

* the best fruit