And we have a plot hole.

It's small, and only needs a tiny bit of spackle,
But it's there and needs to be filled.
Frankly, I expected one earlier.

The painting taught me many things.

Like how easy it was to make dog-headed deer.
They're fixed now, but it wasn't easy.

That's why it took ten pens, folks.

I believe there was more red on that page than actual words.
Oh well.
That's the beginning for you.
Especially the beginning that's been rewritten.
And rewritten again when it was being typed in.
(Yeah, I took a little bit of a break.)

Yum.

The glass lid sparkles with the condensation of cooking soup.

Someday I'll finish this painting.

But I have to get the legs of that darn deer right.
(He previously suffered from what I've taken to calling Pooping Dog Syndrome.)
I think I've got them right now.
But I'm giving it a day.
Tomorrow I'll look at them again and see if I think they're right.
If they are, I'll paint.
If not, I'll try again.
And again.
And again.
And hope I don't wreck the paper before I've finished.

Aida

Music to paint tree trunks by.
Six hours of tree trunks.

What I want to do requires the steady hands of a surgeon.

I do not possess such hands.
But if I wanted those lines to be truly straight, I would have used a computer.
The same applies to the circles.
And who knows, maybe there's wind.