and my friend and I wanted to go paint down by the river.  My kids often come with us to such spots so they can fish.  They had never tested the river banks in this spot.  I remembered it from being a kid myself.  It was actually @ 1/4 mile from where we would be painting, and across the railroad tracks.  We arrived, and found it was covered in weeds, snakes, spiders, poison ivy and all the creepy crawlys that live in the South.  All this didn’t seem to bother the boys too much, so like any good parent, I left them there.

The light was fading anyway.  Kind of in a rush, we headed down the road to our painting spot.   My friend seemed content, so I just started to set up my general painting.  It just wasn’t clicking, I seemed to be looking down the road, wondering how they were the whole time.  Finally, as I was smearing around in a sea of yellow and blue paint (ie green), my friend said while happily painting, “oh here they come”. A rush of relief came over me.  They arrived, hot and put off cause the fishing was bad.  My youngest had his shirt off, and hanging from the zipper of his pants was his shirt, and the whole fishing rod.  Yes, he had gotten the lour stuck in his shirt, and jeans zipper.  I suddenly realized that if I went over to my son and helped him, I would get two things, well three; a little attention, some shade, and an escape from the horrible mess I had made on my canvas.  I would love to compile a book entitled “Mom’s trying to paint”.  I’m sure it would be full of funny stories.

blissprog