Sixty-something woman shares ruminations as she plys the latter third of her life with the caveat that age entitles her to be absolutely outrageous whenever possible.
Sunday, July 01, 2012
Sunday, and more horses...
Major endeavor of the day was a trip to Petco for a purple replacement bra for Pickle, who keeps getting her pink one all dingy, despite my best efforts to launder it. Punk went along, rode in the cart, gave his approval to some new toys, and two engraved hearts to put on their harnesses, so everyone knows they are loved and wanted back should they wander away. Really, we should all have a tag like that, "If lost, return me to ____". Sure would make me feel cherished. And, onward with the white horse opus. These were particularly vexing. My first effort had the legs too long, and a definitely saggy looking butt sticking out there. Much work on the values, which were problematical, and the hues, also a little perplexing. It has now all come together in the way these things have of happening, mostly without much effort of thought on my part. As usual, this is a surprise. Now ready for a trip to Village Art for frames. When I have enough, perhaps I will get brave and show them to an artist who owns a gallery, and has actually ASKED to see my work. Fear, it stinks.