being able to draw a straight line will NOT save your life. ever.

I was having one of those mornings where you just can't shake the sleepies. I needed something stronger than tea. I also needed to move. A 6 hour studio session hunched over my work table inking a canvas and my hips and lower back were screaming "WTF!!!" at me. I filled Karma-the-amazing-cruiser bike's tires with air and took her for a spin to the cafe. I needed the espresso, sunshine and bike ride in a BAD way. Of course, I ran into someone I knew at the cafe. My friend Laura. Then her lunch date cancelled. So naturally I volunteered my lunch eating services and we went for lunch. We got to talking about drawing and Laura said she couldn't draw a straight line. I can't draw one either, I confessed. I just mask it well. After lunch I went home and painted. All was well until I ran a hand through the freshly drawn stairs of the 'la promenade' painting. Some know?

Well....(insert four letter cuss word here)!

So those are the stairs (horizontal lines in the middle) and on the stairs are the ink blots I spattered there to hide my cuss worthy blunder. (It was only a one cuss word worthy blunder...which isn't bad at all, really....on a scale of one cuss word to full-sentence-heavy sighing-with-exasperrated-arm-flailing-action.)

If you get a chance to see the finished painting in person, maybe you'll notice this 'oops'. Maybe not.

You for sure won't notice it at this size and resolution. Here it is. Finished. Painting saved. No harm done. Good times had by all.

(And see Laura? NONE of my lines are even remotely straight!)