I awakened to find the deep draw behind my house brimming with fog this morning. It was beautiful, and I couldn’t help seeing it as something of a metaphor. Things I’ve been ‘in the fog’ about seem clearer these days.
The weather is cold, and I am grateful to be snug in a warm, well-lit house, with coffee on hand and the dogs nearby, snoring away. (Sadie has exercise today, and Mary Ann will be coming to pick her up around nine.) The cats have been outside and gone back to their mysterious business, whatever that is.
I had big plans to work all weekend, but I didn’t. Instead, I slept, read, painted, and babied myself a lot. (Thanks, Universe, I needed that.) I finished reading “Conscious Living” on my Kindle; I came across this book on an artist’s website and recommend it highly. The author is Gay Hendricks. I downloaded Barnaby Conrad’s “Time Is all We Have” from audible.com, too. Conrad is an artist/writer and this is his account of going into treatment at the Betty Ford Center. I liked it a lot–memoirs are my favorites, at least currently. I never fail to learn something.
The new painting is smaller than others–16X16. I will post pictures on Twitter and Facebook later today, although it isn’t finished.
And then there’s my OWN book–I love this story.
Until tomorrow.
