|L.W's Breakfast on The Grass from memory in Sketch Club App on my iPad.|
I'm sitting here fiddling with the Pad waiting for the stores to open. I have to go get small tubes of the paint colors that are still on route. They are in Belleview Michigan. They aren't expected here till Monday and that's too late. As luck would have it, this Mrs. Gotrocks has to return some river rocks to Michael's. Hopefully Michael's has 14ml. tubes of Cerulean, red oxide, and a couple other reds--and a canvas pad.
The cost goes up.
I put a bowl of river rocks in the center of my deck table. I had a bowl of hens and chickens. They did great out there all year long for four years. Then this year, they flowered and died--from heat and not being watered four times a day I suspect. So I filled the arty cement bowl with polished river rocks. It looks good. Tactile. Zen. I figure stick a bug deterrent candle in there for evening or add some charcoal fluid soaked fiber in a subsunk pan and use it as a table top fire pit. The last idea is appealing, except for the possibility of burning down the deck, the table, the chairs and the house.
|A dash of Quinacridone Violet is fine in a paint mix, in a dot or two|
in a painting. It is not okay on my front door; it's the color of madness.
Whores of whores, the condo association turned up yesterday and painted my beautiful deep barn red front door an obnoxious Quinacridone Violet. I could throw up. The last time they tried to do that, I sent them away. Then I got a dunning letter threatening me with a fine and eviction. Fine. So I sat there yesterday watching horrified. Honey hid in his den pretending he wasn't home. The painter, Sherwin Williams, seeing my distress kept saying,"I tried to tell them it was an awful color, way too strong." I thanked Sherwin for his sympathies, but there it is: glaringly offensive, the epitome of poor taste by some silly filly who should be shot for defacing the planet. I called my painter this morning. I'm looking forward to the Association Picnic in a couple of weeks. I'll be able to tell the Philistine by her outfit--lots of jazz going on. I have a few words t share.