First, Baltimore is doing a classic revisit of spring, dishing out two sunny warm (70’s!) days in a row, mid November, starting yesterday.
Second, the Vegan Apple Crumb pie I made three days ago still tastes great, and there’s still some of the vegan coconut milk vanilla bean ice cream left, which is the perfect complement to a heated slice of the pie. Unless it’s an occasional sliver of delicious cheese, dairy can really suck in the health realm. At least for me. FUCK YOU, MILK! I like the soy and coconut versions of milk better, anyway.
Third and most importantly, yesterday morning, Sunday morning, beautiful sunny Sunday, I woke up at 7:30 a.m., packed up some art supplies, got a coffee and everything bagel with butter at a nearby cafe, and drove on over to the STUDIO to get crackin’ on Lynn’s sister’s painting. I purchased the canvas over six months ago and am just now beginning to put paint to surface. Julia, in her benevolent desire to help a sister out, has given me a wall in her beautiful studio so I can lose my verbal self for a few hours a week and paint paint paint. I put in about 2.5 hours yesterday of real work. Painted a Burnt Sienna base color, drew into it, painted into the drawing, wiped the whole thing off in disgust, then did another drawing on the canvas and painted into that one, had it come out with the correct proportions, washed my brushes and left by 11:45. It was so deliciously right! Divine! I felt like I had cheated on my whole family, it was that kind of intense and forbidden love. The fucked up thing is, clearly I shouldn’t have to feel like I’m cheating on anyone by making art. If anything, I am saving my family thousands of dollars each year by staying out of therapy, if I can continue to eek out a few hours per week standing in front of a painting, thinking about it for a few minutes, then applying paint. Doesn’t that seem a wee bit more productive and life-affirming than going to a therapist’s office, whining about how I have no time or space to be creative, getting a fat bill and probably some medication, and still not being able to create?! I demand creative time. I NEED CREATIVE TIME! Not easy to find these days, this elusive ‘time’, since poor spouse has been working six and seven days a week. Mothers, don’t let you children grow up to be architects.
Anyway, yes, painting yesterday was everything I wanted it to be. Except, of course, back again today. I’ll shoot for Wednesday morning putting in some studio time.
Okay, so, someone I know who lives in Los Angeles just got a medical ganja prescription for her PMS. This sounds highly reasonable to me. Should I consider moving my family west? Do I need to re-think my stand on living on the west coast? Because if the only real threat is that part of the North American continent breaking off and melting into the Pacific Ocean, it kinda seems worth it if you can puff as you’re going down. Kipper the Dog and his friends all do it, except for Pig, since he’s a single dad and needs to be present for his toddler pig, Arnold. My question is: where is the bitches, y’alls? Why are there no female-type characters in Kipper? I had an epiphany the other day that all of the characters are homosexual dogs and pigs and they don’t really hang with the hags and that’s okay, too. Pig is raising his adopted son, Arnold in a loving community, Kipper and Jake and Tiger, who may be Kipper’s partner, but I am unsure about this. Who is with me on this? Am I reading too much into it?