It's not easy being me.

I took this one apart three times to adjust the image under the mat, to wipe a fingerprint off that got there because I took it apart, and to wipe away a little dust mote that snuck in while I wiped. There is still a tiny spot on the mat, right in the middle under the image. Don't know whether that is worth taking it apart a fourth time. All this shows my head is in the nether regions and I should just lay low for a while till the dust settles. We are marching forward here, very slowly. The memorial service for my dad is set, I am in a dither about providing food, though that may be taken care of by friends and neighbors anyway. I seem to remember that is what everyone does when death occurs, cook and share and eat, sort of an affirmation of life going on. Not a bad thing. I seem to remember a lot of sex happens around these events, too, another life affirming act. Well, food is enough for this old gal. Meanwhile, the lily looks fine, doesn't it. I can only do one at a time, really, so why worry that there are 20 or so more frames to fuss with? It'll all be done someday, and then I must manifest a wall somewhere to hang them all. This thing about being an artist is so very interesting. As soon as I think of hanging a show, I get a lump the size of Brazil in my throat. What if I am no good? Or, worse, what if I am pedestrian, pedantic, mediocre? Nah, swallowed the lump. It is what it is. Love me or go away.