Months ago, I "found" an old friend from college via her website and via a broken, spewing soda bottle in Whole Foods. She is an artist. Here is her website, if you have a minute to let some pretty stuff into your day.
Yesterday, as I stood decorating Bethanie's Care Bear cake fresh from the store-bought Wilton pan, it occurred to me that I was enjoying myself immensely. A template and a pound of frosting hardly qualifies as "art", but I still think the undertaking was artistic at some level. Plus it made my little girl smile, so that alone makes it worthwhile.
Half purple, half flesh: that's my bedroom right now. It is taking waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too long to get it painted. I kinda took February off, but picked up the brush and roller again today and finished the first coat of wall number two. So... half the walls are a chalky lilac color which I am in love with, and half the walls are this ugly, menacing peachy-yellow flesh color that nearly makes me ill. Next I have to climb the extension ladder and get up on the stupid, pointless pot shelf to dust it before I paint it. That's wall number three, the most death-defying. Wall number four includes the gigantic window, so not so much painting, just a lot of prep. There you have it - I am a painter. An artist of sorts, especially once I find the perfect curtains or drapes to set the whole room off.
I don't know why I'm trying to make myself sound like an artist. My favorite "art" is writing, and I haven't been in the mood lately. Time to go curl up in the half-painted room and get some rest so maybe I'll have inspiration for tomorrow.