It has been a hard week. Sad news for old friends, dentists shaking us upside down for all the money in our pockets, anniversary of my grandmother's death, and a stupid argument in which I started ranting in metaphors again ("A person can sit upright in a three-legged chair just fine, but sometimes, if you just trust enough, and lean back on the missing leg... THE LEG IS STILL GOING TO BE MISSING AND THE CHAIR WILL FALL OVER"). Also, one of the mail carriers got mad at my "GO AWAY" welcome mat and wouldn't deliver my package of paint, even after I signed the "we missed you" slip with permission to just chuck it anywhere, so I had to hoof it down to the physical post office to claim my loot. Like some kind of frontiersman. I'm going to need an addendum door mat that reads *applies only to proselytizers and that guy who sells sides of beef from his truck.
So I knitted some petulant "your mom" mitts.
Still having a hard time with my painting flow. Reminding myself that I'm only a year into painting, everything I do is still practice. It doesn't matter if my paintings look like student studies, because they are student studies. I can try to compose elaborate illustrations and dramatic pre-Raphaelite scenes after I learn to paint fruit and jackets and pants.
not feeling it
boring
Wish I had more than one day a week to work on these things.
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