Mini mystery

A couple months ago, to prep for the whole landscape painting thing, I started painting tiny master copies on my lunch breaks at work. Then I got busy learning Blender and printing out tiny frames for them, thinking it might be fun for my library kids to paint on tiny canvases and then host a miniature gallery show at the end of the summer with everything framed. My brain REALLY did not like learning Blender after spending decades trying to forget my entire degree in computer animation, but I reignited the old brain connections like someone throwing breakers in an abandoned bunker.

Before leaving on vacation, I cleaned my desk and stashed all my art stuff. Got back to work this week (with the little framed paintings to show my coworker) and two mini easels were set up in the middle of my desk, each with a brand new mini canvas in a size larger than I normally get. None of my coworkers left them for me. Officemate says they appeared partway through my trip. The only other person who might know I paint these things is the nighttime security guard, who may have seen them while heating up their midnight hot pockets. 

It is a mystery. I did start painting on one already, though. Thanks, secret patron of the arts. 

Another thing that happened while I was away: the boys I went to school with on Molokai seem to be going through something, and I came home to a bunch of friend requests from dudes asking if I'm single. It must be mid-40s divorce season on an island with the same 6 people on all the dating apps, and suddenly the weird fuckin' bubble-eyed haole from their old high school yearbook is looking like an option.

I had to look at my own yearbooks to remember who the heck these guys even were, and found this picture of me about to ruin my life, learning digital art on a 1995 Macintosh Performa. 

Girl, RUN. Go be a painter! Live in the woods with goats and chickens! Learn falconry!

I don't know how many back burners I'm on, but it would take a very particular one to be any kind of temptation, and these are not it. Thanks for remembering me, though, guys.

edited to add: I got two more. What is happening? The yearbook is not a menu.

edited again to add: HARRIS, IS THIS YOUR FAULT? They all have you as mutuals! I am not a rancor! You can't feed me men like biscuits!