I don’t know how or why, but for some reason my husband puts up with me. I just want to say right now, if you like a perfectly neat house, never marry an artist. I mean, I have taken over the little guest house we have and filled it with easels and paint and canvases. Everything is art, art, art up in there. It’s like sitting inside a rainbow. There is no color scheme unless you count all the colors as a color scheme. Not to mention, I keep collecting odds and ends that I might need someday in a collage or sculpture or to make a stamp out of. I have even saved the plastic netting my lemons came in because that netted plastic might make a really cool stencil on something…someday. If I can find it.
Anyway, over the winter I took over the dining room table because my studio was cold. It happened again. Last night I claimed the dining room table as all mine…ALL MINE. I had to paint, but I needed to be near Tiny-Small who was busy simultaneously watching Mulan, eating a snack, and playing with her imaginary friend Boo-Boo, who we found out is a dog, is brown, is big, and likes to pet Tiny-Small. He is also gender neutral because while she calls him a “him” she also says he is her girlfriend. It looks like dressing her only in green and yellow baby clothes finally paid off. Anyway, this morning my dining room table looks like this because I literally painted until two minutes before I went to bed. Best night ever!
I don’t know how Jim puts up with me. He never complains. Meanwhile, I am always annoyed that he leaves his shoes in the middle of the floor or keeps every scrap of paper he encounters in a day in a pile on the kitchen counter. I think he is probably going to win spouse of the year award for putting up with my bad habits. Unfortunately, I am totally losing for my ungracious nature and messy I-own-this-table year round behavior, but also winning because I married the spouse of the year award recipient. Yes, Jim is still getting the short end of the stick, but that probably happens a lot to people who get these type of awards, don’t ya think?
I have more than one bad habit when it comes to making art. I probably have too many to list here, but I will tell you I have an unhealthy obsession with art supplies. I want them all. One of each, at least, to be precise. As soon as I try something new I read about something else new and have to try it…right now! TODAY! I recently read that most women spend their extra money on their appearance. What does it mean that I spend my walking around money on Stabilo pencils and paint markers? It means I walk around looking like I bought my clothes off of the thrift store clearance rack…because I did. Yes, this is what happens when your spouse is an artist. You have to suffer their throw-back appearance, unkempt hair, and watch them spend your hard-earned money on pastel crayons and fancy papers.
I don’t know how Jim puts up with me and my obsessive nature. I paint face after face…three in one day yesterday, and he compliments every single one as if he has never seen it done before. When I day-dream about a new watercolor brush, he comes home with it to surprise me. When I apologize about the table being covered with all of my stuff he pretends he doesn’t even notice. When I don’t sell any paintings he reassures me that I will next week. He says he doesn’t care about having a neat house with perfectly clean and tidy everything. He’d rather be married to an artist. He’d rather be married to me.
I guess I can forgive him for leaving his shoes in the middle of the floor…at least this once, right? I mean, it’s the least I could do for this man who loves me enough to put up with my bad behavior. He even does it with a smile. He is totally winning that award this year, even if I have to make it myself…on the dining room table.