With a brushstroke here and a brushstroke there

... here a stroke, there a stroke, everywhere a brushstroke ...
Old McKatie took up art, E-I-E-I-O.

I'm painting. I don't know why. I've never painted in my life, save fingerpaints. But I saw some acrylics on sale right before Christmas and bought them for Paul -- and now I use them more than he does.

Music's always been my bag. Art to me is doodling on a Post-It while talking on the phone.

So why am I coming home from work, shunning my video games (and naps!) and painting? And why am I making a special stop on the way home to buy a canvas?

First time for everything, eh?

Actually, that reminds me of something -- there wasn't a first time for pottery. I remember one year how badly I wanted a potter's wheel for Christmas. (This was after the Christmas debacle with the rock tumbler -- I guess I never learn.) Anyway, on Christmas morning, Santa had left me a pottery set, complete with clay, wheel, the works.

So I take it home, open the box and get out the instructions. And it tells me to open the clay up, add a bunch of water and get it nice and gooey before putting it on the wheel. Hurm, I thought, this wasn't as easy as I had planned. So I cut open the container of clay, get out a big gob, and start adding the water as directed.

Five minutes later, I was covered in ooey gray clay from my fingers to my elbows. The wheel was covered in a layer of clay (read: NOT a beautiful pot, as I had imagined). The sink was covered in clay. And, umm, yeah, since I'd decided to do this in the guest bathroom, I managed to gunk up the carpet, too. (It's fun explaining the unidentifiable brown mess to guests. Really fun. I swear. Okay, no, I'm lying.)

Anyway, the worst part happened when the clay started to dry. You know those special mud masks you pay big bucks for at the spa? Yeah, potters can do them at home for free. Dried clay does not come out from under fingernails. Dried clay does not come out of hair. Okay, yeah, it does come out of hair -- with the hair firmly attached to the clay instead of your head.

Now, I've shared. And back to work.