February 10th, 2017

Creative Joyous Cat

Kids at Play - work in progress, continued

So, we have this room off the TV room, either a very large closet or a very small room. The ancient carpet in it resisted being pulled when we moved in, so we left it there. We put the cat box in it, and plants, and some logs for the cats to climb on. Sadly, eventually an elderly feline started leaving messes there when the cat box wasn't as clean as he wanted. So the carpet had to go.

I've been working at cleaning the remaining carpet pad, which was glued (by intent or entropy) to the wood, up, a little every day. I got mad at something the current tweeter-in-chief did and overdid it a few days ago, and had several days where my wrist hurt. Last night, I got back to the painting, but not for long--after a while, even painting with my tiniest brush was more than I could do. But, I got her face and the imaginary friend roughed in.

Today, after getting the headlight fixed on the car (and it's 100,000 mile tuneup), I picked up some potting soil and seed starter (I have a lovely garden plot to plant in, after all), paid the bills (it hurt to write and type even more than it hurt to paint, over the last couple of days), and got back to painting.

The photos aren't great--I was holding the painting in one hand and the cell phone in the other--but at least you can see the progress I'm making.

So far, I have the goat and the necessary three of the other items for the challenge: the humanoid child, the imaginary friend, and the bubbles. I'm considering whether I should bother with the flag or the balance-scales. The humanoid kid does need a bubble-wand and jar of bubble-soap still, and work on the face. There will also certainly be more bubbles. I'm enjoying the bubbles.

And I'm really glad my wrist isn't hurting any more! It might even have healed faster if I wasn't too angry at watching Mitch McConnell officially silence Elizabeth Warren on the Senate floor for milder language than all the guys get away with using. That man needs his grandma to tell him she's ashamed of him. I sent a fax, but somehow I doubt it will have the same impact as a nice visit from Grandma Marley's ghost would. Or am I mashing up my stories too much? Still, it's not a bad daydream, and a better thought for bedtime than dwelling on the reality.

But regarding the painting, as always, comments and suggestions are welcome.

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