Back to normal. Life is good. January 03 and all is well, quite quiet on the western front. Quiet on the eastern, too. And north and south. Blessed silence is the norm. You can just hear the occasional wing beats of the birds flying by.
Well, Sal is on the computer upstairs. The rhymic thumpity thump of her hitting keys is the loudest noise by far, followed by the crunchity of her repositioning in her chair now and then. Me? I am downstairs just listening. And thinking of art pieces.
As you know, I am building a deck (with too much blood and tears but not enough sweat to be getting anywhere right at this time – but it will happen). The deck will eventually accommodate my studio. I want to call it a workshop but Sal is trying to encourage my ‘artistic side’ and she thinks that if we call it a studio I will use it in that manner. She may not want to do much in the way of actual construction but she is willing to support me in any psychological way she can.
“Just think, sweetie. When you have your studio you can come out here and make stuff, paint and do sculptures. Oooh………it will be so much fun!”
“I am not so sure. I did artsy stuff mostly when I was young trying to attract hippy chicks who liked that sort of guy. I also did sports for those athlete-preferring girls. Neither tactics were overly successful. And I just lied about stuff for all the others. I was never any good at any of it. Mind you, my lying got better and better. I was at the peak of my deceit skills when I met you. Hmmmm…..maybe that is why I write, eh? You know, to keep the fabrication skills up? Fallen for anything lately, have you?”
“You are not as good a liar as you might think. Trust me. And anyway, you are not half bad at some of that artsy stuff. I like the paddles you paint and you still have some soapstone under the house. C’mon, let your inner Michelangelo out.”
“And there is the added benefit of my being out of the house for hours on end, eh? You gotta like that!”
“Denying is lying. So, I admit it. But I still like to see the artwork. Honest. Getting you the hell out is just a bonus, I swear.”
“Well, maybe. I admit that I am looking at that rock under the house in peculiar ways. I am starting to see something in it. Maybe by the time I get the workshop……oops, studio…….done, I will be inspired.”
“Great! And while you are at it, why not install a bit of heating for the colder months. Maybe a small bathroom? I’d also suggest a modest kitchenette for making a bit of tea, ya know? You like tea. Are you capable of constructing a Murphy bed? Just askin’?”