 I attended my first “paint and sip” event in Bangor last night. I was dubious about the whole thing. Although I’ve always been captivated by others with talent, I have none of my own. I am also rash, impatient, and messy. My hands got covered in paint. I had a few splatter accidents, flinging paint with too much water around the half finished canvas. I accidentally dunked my painty brush into my beer. I still drank it, though, until I knocked it over with my easel as I carried it to the paint drying station. I am embarrassing, but I’m used to it. Notwithstanding all the kerfuffles, it was more fun than I thought. I’m actually rather taken by my own (highly instructed) work. Maybe it’s one of those things I’ll take up in my dotage, like Grandma Moses. There is plenty of room for growth. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 42: 146 words, TOTAL = 6344; 53,656 remaining |
AuthorRobin Clifford Wood is a writer and writing teacher. She lives in central Maine with her husband and dogs, loves to be outdoors, and enjoys ever-expanding horizons through her grown children and their multi-species families. Archives
March 2021
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