So P. has been away on biznaz for two weeks, which has been perfect timing because I've been clocking twelve hour days in the studio getting ready for the show. But the combination of P's absence and my approaching show deadline has resulted in a steep decline in the orderliness of our little house, the bounty in our fridge, and the sorting of our mail. I have devolved into a studio monstre, which is a horrifying sight to behold. Saggy, cropped mom-jeans (they were, in fact, my mother's) covered in paint, gnarly clogs that give me the appearance of having hooves, an oversized men's work-shirt, and my hair smeared back in fifty bobby pins. Oh, and a big woolen cape that is killer when worn with tights and tall boots, but Sleepy Hollow-creepy with the above mentioned ensemble. It's not pretty. But I don't expect to see other human beings when I'm dressed like this.
When I ran out of dog food on Friday I was finally forced to deal with the reality of my dysfuntion. Saturday morning I fed the poor dogs a mixture of white rice, yogurt, and crushed dog biscuits (as if breaking them up into little pieces somehow made them more acceptable). I painted all day and finally went to the grocery store at 8pm that night, thinking hey, no one I know goes to the supermarket on a Saturday night. Also of minor but relevant note, caffeine makes my hands shake, which makes detailed work difficult, but sometimes I need a little pick-me-up in the afternoons. I had just downed a room-temperature coffee and had the shakes pretty bad as I crept into the grocery store like a Shade from Hades swaddled in plaid flannel. Luckily there is a vibrant community of tweakers and meth-heads in the high desert, so no one paid much attention to me.
As I was weighing the pros and cons of the regular, cheapo avocados from Mexico against the more expensive organic ones from California I felt someone lurking behind me. "Uh, Lily, is that you?" I winced and turned around, clutching an avocado in each shaking hand. It was my husband's new coworker. And a bunch of his friends. All strapping young fellows in search of ingredients for homemade lasagna. I think I said something along the lines of "Oh hey, I ran out of dog food." I scurried away to the checkout line with both types of 'cados and a jumbo bag of dog food, and sprinted out of there before I ran into anyone else.
All's I'm sayin is that it'll be real good to have the huz home and get my life back in order. One more week of cray-cray and then I have to put the brushes down and let the paintings dry for a week, so I'll decaffeinate, get a hair cut, paint my nails, and hopefully reemerge on the other side none the worse for wear. *Hopefully.*
Above painting in various stages of progress/regress:
Assimilation / 30 x 30 in. / oil on gessobord / 2010