Inspiration, Artistry, and, Oops!!

I have been hearing lately about so-and-so who's an artist, and so-and-so who is "just SO creative!", so I decided to try my hand at the artistic life. The high school kids at church are going to camp in New Mexico this week, and I've been hearing about it all week long. Naturally, memories of high school camp came to mind . . . the wrestling and eating dog food, the mega box wars (this was my favorite; four kids stood at the four courners of a tarp with grease on it, all wearing refrigerator boxes and unable to see, and at the sound of the whistle, all four had to attempt to get to the opposite corner, while treading on a super-slippery tarp, with three other blinded kids bumping into them, and with perfectly sighted staff members tripping them and turning them around.) So this is my memory of camp: running. All I can remember is running everywhere, all the time. There was the subject for my art: I'd draw a self-portrait of me running. I am proud of the colorful drawing. I even made my own frame for it. Now, where to hang it? I know; on my office door. I got my handy-dandy hammer (it was a wedding gift), and I got a few nails. I hammered in those nails with all my might. In the end, it looked perfect-it was like a dream. However, when I swung the door on the hinges, the dream became a nightmare. I guess I hadn't realized how long those nails were, and how thin the door. I reacted quickly, and used the hammer to bend the extra 2 inches of nail down, and I taped some wrapping paper over it all, to cover the war wounds. Maybe that would buy me some time before my better half, who lets me live in his house and be his wife, got home. They say walking helps you to generate ideas, so Rufus and I went for a walk. I figured out how to fix it. I got rid of the wrapping paper, unbent the nails, and pried them out. Problem. Six big and ugly holes in the door. I tried to cover them up with my picture, but to no avail. I had to use thumbtacks, and move the picture over to the wall. I'd have to deal with the ugly holes later. My Mister and I watched a movie, and I thought about ways of dealing with the holes. The breakthrough answer came today, as I glanced at a can of white paint in the garage. I got my hammer again (I figured that if it could get me into this trouble, it could get me out, too), and I got a paper towel, and I gently dipped the towel into the paint, and went and covered up the ugly holes. Our home no longer looks like a drug den. I fixed it. I FIXED IT. In case you didn't get that, I FIXED IT.

A photo of the portrait is on my Flickr page.