the Last 18 Days

I meant to try and post something weekly, when I started this thing. Really, I had the best intentions. Pesky life gets in the way. There was this and that to make excuses for. A slide show to explain:

Indy in the ocean

Nieces

The god ball

A lesson

Watch out for the kite boards, because they can't steer so much

Under-age dog drinking, beer Aussie

She can only watch due to a bum leg

And this is why I come here, New Inlet has a "new inlet!"

Ok and beer too

Perfect way to end the day

The most ordinary of vacations, off to Salvo NC with family and dogs.

Now back in the real world.

Medical problems confound me. I recognize the very temporariness of this existence. I guess I just thought my body would last longer, not that I have treated it gently or anything. 25 years of full contact martial arts, later years adding cycling, paddling, and whatever else I can cram in between working and painting and paying the bills, yeah, I think I've gotten good use from it. Still, the last few years, 3 surgeries in four, and now a fourth will make it four in four if the surgeon gets around to me before the end of the year. Suck it up, eh?

So I am standing at my latest painting and thinking "I know I suck, but at least I don't have pretense right?" Oh the stress a faker must feel? Or are we all fakers? Am I myself not worried I will be found out? I remember being out to dinner with some paddling buddies and I admitted to painting, yes, I believe I might have even used the word "artist." Bad move. Immediately I was asked some hard question I was unprepared for, "Who is your favorite artist? This will demonstrate what kind of painter you are." Egads! I don't know. Van Gogh, Gaugin, shit, I don't know! I blurt out something suitably stupid about antique kimono painters from the last millennium, honest answer but dumb, really felt dumb. Yeah, I am a textile painter and embroider, so it's okay. Just felt dumb, I studied bio science in college, not art. I wish I had but I didn't.

I should mention, going back to the health thing, that standing at my painting for two hours has left me hugging an ice bag around my hip and lower spine. Shit this hurts. I am so effed.

Just as I am warming up to my next topic I hear a commotion, the Lorax, a dog, hollering. A nice large tube of Titanium White has bitten the dust, snuck off the work table by the destructo-pup. It's still wet on the oak floor and the cheap Oriental carpet. The pup painted, maybe an aspiring dog artist, smartest dog in the house.