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.
Wednesday, July 04, 2012
Well, you have to begin somewhere...
Not a big fan of the 4th of July. Love fireworks. Hate sitting in the parking lot or garage for 3 hours trying to get home later. Hate that the noise scares the stuffing out of my dogs. Hate that so many folks get royally pissed on Bud and drive around where I might be at any given time. So, staying home, with the Punkin and the Pickle, and just because I could, I started a new white horse painting. This is on my favorite paper, Fabriano's Tiziano, black. Can't get it in my little town, had to sojourn down the 101 corridor and across the Richmond-San Rafael Bridge to Blick, the mecca of art supply stores. Okay, I could order it online, but it is a lovely drive, and I get to have lunch with my son who works in Richmond, and I get to explore new levels of gratitude on the way back over the bridge, when San Quentin fills my windshield. I think it is a good thing to remember that I am free, here in the USA, in the little yellow house. And you can see from what has happened so far that I am feeling free with COLOR. This is, of course, just an underpainting, but I can already see it will be very dynamic when I start putting the good stuff on top. What a way to spend a retirement! How lucky am I!