February 8,  2004

      i don't get it.  After a gazillion hours of trying to paint something Himself and i would both like, i finally do one that He loves, and that i don't understand at all.

      It started out as purple flowers.  Within minutes, i could tell things were not going well - i think i'd already exhausted myself from trying to do a reasonable sketch of a nude pose earlier.  i got the body positioning fairly right, but the face - well..err.. poor woman :-(

      Anyway, what the flowers ended up being is this:

      And Himself really does like it.  He went upstairs - i followed a few minutes later - and i found Him staring at what i think is just a pile of paint and He says "... I quite like that one..."

      Huh??? HE says it is suggestive of storm clouds and land and the sea and the sun trying to peek through, and it has big energy.  

      But!  i was just putting the paint on the canvas 'cause i didn't want to waste it!  It was put on in no particular order - random only!  And other than finding it a bit of a calming exercise, i think the cats were having more fun than me during the whole thing.  They were tossing paint brushes and chewing up paper towel rolls.  Sigh.  i just truly don't understand the concept of abstractism. And now He's saying He'd like to hang it in His office.

      Here's the naked body i was trying to do - i'm having a bad art weekend!

      So Himself has declared that we will be celebrating our anniversary on Friday.  He figures it's too hard to do it on the actual day (my art class) and the day before we are in bed by 10, so how exciting is that?  So Friday it is - and then i noticed that it's Friday - "THE 13th!"  

      He says so what's the problem?  (He's obviously not superstitious.  Which is probably why we have black cats.)  But He did correctly point out that in a past life i'd be on my way to Port Dover for the "Friday the 13th - Biker's Pub Night" 

(and old journal entry here)

      Sometimes i miss the freedom of the bike.  Sometimes i miss the smell of the leather - the sound of a Harley - and the wind in my face.  i miss wearing a short leather jacket, tall boots and tight black clothes, and walking with a swagger.  And for a few brief years, i felt like i had the world in my hands - i was ultra thin, had long hair, and was very much sought after.  i guess i was able to bury my insecurities in the facade of it all.  i remember being as cocky as all snot - not rude, just very much enjoying my "how y'all like me now" attitude.  And lots of sex.  Hmm.... i'm sitting here in memory mode and thinking i sure had a LOT of sex.  Heh.  i don't think that's one to share with the future grandchildren.

      i'm so different now.  Calmer, and certainly rounder and well that was years ago, so i'm inevitably aged.  Sigh.  And i dare say i'm much more productive now, and i think i'm learning more and developing more that i ever was during that time.  And truth be told, probably a ton happier.

      But i still miss the leather. And the sounds and the smells and the excitement of traveling down a long road in a pack of 100 bikes or more - hearing nothing but the roar of tons of machinery.

      i laughed when Himself made the reference to what i would have been doing on the 13th, and so i shouldn't be superstitious.  And i jokingly replied; "well, whatever we do, it needs to involve leather!"  

      Yum.

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