Fred started asking me if it was Friday yet, when it was only Wednesday.
Is it Friday yet? Is it Friday yet?
A couple days ago, I got a manicure.
Today, my nails look like this:
I’m becoming a living, walking, art journal!
I can’t seem to get the black paint off.
It’s a spray paint I used yesterday as I fussed with my first-ever art journal pages.
I’m working on a two page spread.
It isn’t done yet.
This is what it looks like not done, wet, and in a drying state:
Don’t judge me! It’s not done yet!
One of the primary purposes of my art journal, is for me to experiment with different types of texture mediums.
I want to get used to working with them so I can make some decisions about which of them (if any) I might incorporate into a photography mixed media project.
In the above photo, all those white spots are actually white “stuff.”
Bumps, lumps, and clumps of white texture stuff.
Aren’t I artsy?
This morning, one of Paul Newman’s PT friends is going to work on my arm.
(Paul Newman is STILL on vacation. I’m jealous!)
I’m a little nervous because (as you know) my body is really, exceptionally, f*cked up.
I’m sure Paul Newman briefed The Other PT on what *not* to do, but I’m worried anyway.
Yes, I’m afraid of pain.
I admit it.
Overall, I have a very high pain tolerance because I have to.
But, whenever anyone new touches me there’s the possibility it will send me into never, never land …
(The level of pain it takes weeks to come down from.)
I would play hooky from this appointment, but my body has been flipping out without my usual PT visits.
My arm has popped on and off my body several times in the last few days.
So I must go.
And be brave.
(I get tired of being brave.
I’d prefer to stamp my feet like a three year old and chant, “I want Paul Newman!”)