Right.
Thursday nite. Blues wailing on the radio. Out at our housebuild. little xmas tree lit. Wood burning stove blazing. Dogs asleep. Dave working and the saw going off in the background and me on here. Been a good week, considering Dave was out of town for several days and I don't like it when he goes out of town (he went out to work on a house for a good friend and client). Xmas tree still isn't up at home but it will be going up tonight or tomorrow.
When he was gone, I was GOING to get out the decorations but didn't.
I was too caught up in art and the rare chance to have the house to myself for long periods of time and do what I love most, paint and paint and paint (and watch horror flicks, "psychological thrillers" and other such entertainment.
My endless with faces is taking a decidly wickedly good turn as I don't want to paint yet another whimsical face looking off into space. I want to paint a face that looks directly inside of me and so of course the key is the eyes. Struggle struggle, but at last I have done my first official painting that I seriously like. Plus I did alot of technique work and now I think I'm finally getting my own particular style.
I see these paintings now and last night I actually had trouble sleeping, thinking about all I have on my art bucket list Is there such a thing as too many dreams? Sigh.
PS I love Pandora radio.
And I do love this imperfect life. There is no perfect life. There is only the life that is perfect for me.
Robberies and storms, insurance companies, house builds with no cash that go on and on, dogs that fart way too much, economy in the crapper, oh I could go on and on and on.
But I won't.
Because I love this imperfect life.
And. Oh I do, I do I do.
