I stole this picture and headline from Renee'.
Maybe the only creative thing I'll ever do is blog. Blog creatively. Although Brinbrin and Matt seemed happy with my writing help on the adoption resume. That made me happy. Even if they don't use any of it, and they hate it all, at least they lied to me and said they liked it. So I'm good for something, at least.
We painted this weekend. I will eventually put up a couple pics of our objet d'art, but really, for now, just use your imagination. Mine, titled "Roadkill Birds," had three nice small poppies in the corner and some good grass. Amanda's is a lovely still life, with a blue vase and several varieties of flower. She got paint on her shorts, but it came out. At first, Renee' was frustrated, toiling and heaving over her work, sighing and stomping off, returning - "How's this?" "No, that's crap," the rest of us would say, gently encouraging her to keep trying. "Ok, this isn't bad," she'd say. And B would give her the ole "No, you should stop now and start over with a new canvas. Really. Don't touch it." And R would glare and pout, walk off, come back. But when she started over, it was brilliant. She even came back to the original crap painting and turned it into an awesome urban-ish flower. They both created some really cool pieces.
I feel obsessed with painting and being creative. Last week, or over the weekend (I don't remember -- time is becoming muddy these days), I was haunting the house trying to find my box of pastels. Couldn't find 'em. Wanted to go out and buy more at 11pm. Renee' was all, "Why am I living with a lunatic?" and I was all, "Do you want some bread? Maybe some toast. Where are my pastels? They aren't in this closet or in that box or in the freezer."
There is this insatiable need to do more. I did one painting to their 10. The paint makes me twitchy. The brushes make me wish I could use my fingers. People kept talking to me. I'd be in the middle of a brushstroke and Amanda would get paint on her eyeball. Or I'd be contemplating the fabulous combination of brown on brown, and the girls would be all, "Andi, your painting is a pit of despair. What do you think of mine?"
The kicker is, I'm ok with sucking (for now) because I just want to keep doing it. One day, my paints will come.