Maybe I’ll Be An Artist In Seattle. Can We Panic Now?

It is 41F this morning, I am wearing a Chef hoodie, rainbow fuzzy socks and drinking my morning black coffee with my cat keeping my lap, and one hand, warm.

I’m not in Seattle yet, but I think I’m feelin the vibe.

There were a couple sketches and paintings I did when I was taking Art classes in college that were rediscovered as we excavated the library.



This one actually got into a show in the Art Gallery on campus, which was pretty groovy.  I got a job at said Art Gallery after the show, which was so much fun.  Neurotic.  Chaotic. Horrible coffee…but lots of fun.



This was a painting I did in the oil painting class.  It was pretty good for a first semester try, and I thought I was going to go into Art after this class…but I have always been a writer.  So, ditched Art, studied Literature. I’ve always been grateful that I figured that out early on.

But…these are the last few things I haven’t packed.  Tomorrow the movers come and load the truck.

There is no turning back.

Tonight we sleep in sleeping bags.

I have to pack the silverware.

There is no time for over-thinking things.

No more laundry to be done.  The clothes are all packed.

No more breakfasts to cook.  The pots are all packed.

This is the end.


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