Gravy Baby

We did a lot of shopping yesterday morning.  Jumping into the car just to go and grab one or two items at the market; only to return an hour later to grab one or two more. It  probably looked a little schizo to some people.  OCD to others.  But it was time to create and our errands were to us as the thumb is to the artist.  Details, vision; a little more of this here, a little dab of that there....

That's how you get ready for Thanksgiving dinner when family is coming over.  You prepare the canvas with aromas and sounds, flavors and illumination.  And then you sit back and wait for the medium to arrive, and they do.

A pile of coats no sooner builds up on a chair in the den than the hues of each individual begin to blend, compliment and contrast with each other.  Laid out.  Trusting. The space fills rapidly... but at the same time, love allows it to expand. Yes, love will ensure there's room for every different palette and brush stroke, where expectations would have otherwise stifled.  The coats soon end up on the floor because the desk chair is now needed at the table.

In the end you don't see, but you hear the masterpiece... and it sounds a lot like laughing.

 "Good art is art that allows you to enter it from a variety of angles and to emerge with a variety of views."    -Mary Schmich, American Journalist