It crossed my mind that today while I was going through my trunk of art work from the past, I was sitting there feeling.....envious....of the fact that I used to draw a lot. Why can't I do that now? I was looking through some of my charcoal and ink drawings, specifically, that made me want to run out to the nearest art store and buy up a bunch of supplies. And I voiced this to Kevin, who very enthusiastically agreed that I need to use more of my talent, but assured me that I can only do one thing at a time. And trying to draw or paint with two little ones running under foot is just not reasonable. Right now. I don't even have a place to work. A desk, I mean. I have a coffee table that my sewing machine sits on in the spare room, and I sit on the window seat so that I am sort-of able to sew with my knee crooked just right to push the pedal. It's quite entertaining to watch, I'm sure. Anyway, I have a closet full of fabric that I need to use up before I go buying up the local art supply store.
I opened up the trunk only to see if I had some bristol board to work with...and ended up opening a whole can of worms. My old journals were in there. Wow. It was almost painful to read through them! I was a silly girl. Still am. And my year book from 8th grade. Wow, again. Kevin was laughing with me at all the notes scribbled throughout. What I find so funny is that I think I look the same as I did in 8th grade. But with shorter hair and less of a tan. (Though I'm working on the later.)