The skeleton story in the previous post went over well with my bloodthirsty 1st graders. Kids are ghouls. I love telling them stories when their parents aren't around to make cringing faces at me.
Stubbornly carving out painting time. 3 hours, interrupted by banana bread, batches of cookies, kitten milk bottles, and lego mediation. By the end I was flapping like a muppet when they veered too near with “can I have -” on their lips.
It could have used another 3 hours and some background, but OH WELL.
I put the last dab on, called it done, and took Zenny to the thrift store, where I had to use our code word for "stalking pedophile, get back over here" only once, and managed to find a silk hippie skirt for $5 - which the kitten immediately took a flying leap at, got stuck in, and tore.
look at this monster
And everyone will be very excited to know that I procured a very handsome ginger for my next painting. Everyone except the produce guy at Tamuras, who aggressively rearranges all the ginger after I paw through them every week. I don't even hold them up like antlers anymore, geez.
I'll be hiding in the basement studio with my ginger if anyone needs me, thanks.
I can taste the juice.
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