Having abandoned all writings for the week of birthday festivities, H tearing into my presents and having too much cake, I have somehow found the time and the desire to do some painting. And no not the walls, although H’s room desperately needs repainting. I have painted a small picture for a friends birthday, and the card. I know what you are thinking and no I was NOT just being cheap, I just wanted to give her something other and the obligatory girly bubble bath/lotion/face cream. Not that there is anything wrong with that, as a matter of fact I’m a great believer in the all healing power of a bubble bath and a book or magazine. But I wanted to giver her something a bit different something that I put heart , soul, thought and imagination into. I painted a card too in disgust over the wares in the three or four card shops in town. The painting was abstract in teal, brown and turquoise, which I am currently obsessed with as I painted again last night and though far from a masterpiece of any kind its pretty and soothing to look at so I’m pleased with the result. Though I’m not sure how it turned out so tranquil as I was watching an episode of Bones at the time.
I’m out of canvas now unless I go up into the attic ( I do not do ladders) or go buy some, and availability is limited in this relatively small town, there are two shops to get canvases from, one that is expensive, and the other that is run by the quilt Nazi. Whenever I go into her craft shop she manically tries to get me to join in her coven of quilters, I have not succumbed. Partly because I can’t sew, not won’t but can not, I’d probably sew my fingers together in a sewing machine, you should see me handle a bread knife. And partly because I’m too busy trying to breathe new life into my painting and writing. Not to mention cooking, baking and housekeeping, knitting, and the colossal mountain of novels I haven’t started reading yet. All that and now I m thirty a grownup, scary thought that.