Today was a sort of good and awful day in the kitchen play room studio.
The limited real estate on my kitchen cabinets must be shared: blueberry boiling and bottles of ink (one of which was open and spilled all over the counter top--ugh!); gel presses and cutting board for lemons; a loaf of bread and a few bottles of acrylic paint.
Some days puts me in touch with a few angels and demons--my own and the ones outside my own head of un-washed hair. (Okay, who has time to wash hair when ink spills and the phone rings all at once?)
Phone calls from my optimistic cheerleader of a mama and my tent-trailer-builder-just-back-from-Big-Bend camper son, a good long phone conversation from Lorraine and a buoying visit from Pam were the parts of the day that brought out the angels.
Starting the day with news of this ridiculous stand-off impeachment "trial"--that put me in touch with the outer demons, the unbelievable farce that I have decided, for the sake of my sanity, to stop watching--following Carlene's lead. She's decided to listen to music and do fun things to get her mind off what's going on in Washington, and she sounded quite peppy having made that change. (Not to pay so much attention to the things we can't change.)
The demon inside me--well, that's another matter entirely. That one creeped in today and asked, "What do you think you're doing? You have enough art supplies to be a real artist and you're just messing around! Nothing you're making is worthy of all this time and all these beautiful colors of paint!"
Well, I listened to that mean voice for a while and felt like a balloon whose air has seeped out all the way, a flaccid little empty piece of rubber. I decided to quit this making-things foolishness and get on with something that matters--whatever that is.
I watched The Danish Girl on Amazon--which was wonderful. (Talk about unconditional love!--this story is a must-see.)
And then--having given the devil his limited due--I got a new idea for something I want to make. So at midnight, I sought advice (online) on one technical detail I needed and met a new artist who had exactly the answer I was looking for. Woo-Hoo, Happy Time Returns!
So now I hear celestial harps and humming again. Some people call that sound the songs of angels. I call it the return of my moody muse.
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