Plein air paintings, studio art and lessons
I drive to Houston every three months for a haircut; I only trust one person with my hair. One of the best features of the current do is that it holds up when tossed about and messed up, because it is usually tossed about and messed up. Actually this is not unlike how I feel currently.
I’ve been blogged down for a couple of weeks, but tomorrow is a new day.
Chas has evolved into this dense chunk of loveliness that stops my heart mid-beat; I have to remember to breathe. I don’t know if it’s the hobbit-baby hair, long strawberry blonde pouring over his ears and face, or if it’s his huge top teeth set a mile apart from each other and opposing two tiny bottom teeth, or his cosmic blue eyes. Or if it’s the Proof of God that I see as I watch him sleep, with leaden eyelids. But it’s arresting, his presence. Of course, at other times I’m too distracted to sit in awe.