… into the side of my head. Okay, I exaggerate Not into my head, but certainly into my house. There’s painting to do! Dirt to dig! Trim to trim!
Instead, on this fine late-summer day (the kind of day that reminds you to savor every moment because there won’t be many more), I’m headed off to — ugh — socialize.
Yes, I’m leaden with dread because (oh, I’m sure you’ll pity me so), I’ve been invited to spend my afternoon hanging out with a bunch of local artists and their friends at a gathering whose main purpose seems to be to shoot replica cannons. In a toney gated spot. On the water.
Yeah, I suffer.
But seriously, I’d rather be painting and trimming the house. I’m dreading this as if I were going in for surgery. On a sensitive spot. Without anesthetic.
I’m fine one-on-one with people, though I generally prefer my own company. The friend who invited me (owner of said cannon) is one of the few people, along with his equally charming and witty wife, who makes me feel brilliant in more elaborate social situations. But crowds and I — even small crowd, which this will likely be — are not a heavenmade match.
Oh please don’t make me go! I want to finish painting that back wall today.
But I really like my friend with the cannon. He’s bringing a flintlock rifle, too. And he invited me because he saw that grand champion ribbon at the fair and thought “artists!”
I do need to connect with local artist/do-ers. I used to know a few of them when there was a little gallery here, but the gallery owner closed shop and moved away to a houseboat on the Columbia. Since then, not so much.
Pick yourself up and paste on that smile!
But I could be enjoying the scent of new-sawn cedar as I paint the belly band for the north wall.
Go! Smile! Enjoy! Connect!
I think I’ll at least try for an hour of therapeutic painting first.