Artist in Exile

Here at 5:45 p.m. I am still in my stitching room, which I entered at around 9 a.m., although I left long enough to admire work, to consult on questions, to fix a snack and to use the bathroom. Otherwise, I've stitched, blogged and emailed all day, just me, the cat and the bunnies. What a pleasant day! This is one of the projects I worked on: Lemon Tree Sampler by Praiseworthy Stitches. I've somehow lost the Tin Bucket GAST I was using for the roof. And I never bought the two colors for the house because they weren't in the list of supplies but in the paragraph under "model information." I'll have to pick up all three when I go to the needlework shop later in the week. So I worked on the lemon tree while the workmen toiled in the house.

The guys working on the floors asked what happened to cause the floors to be removed just 8 months after they were installed, and I explained, pointing out Pink and Elvis in their cages in the stitching room. They said they wouldn't keep a rabbit or any other pet who had done such damage, which seems to me to be a matter of closing the barn door after the horse escapes. They didn't understand, and they gave each other significant looks that indicated they think I've recently arrived from Mars. I have to admit, looking at the cages, and Yazziebear in my stitching chair (I didn't evict her after all, since I had another comfortable chair) and the cat box in the corner and the big pile of stitching projects, that they're probably correct. Oh, well. It's good for business! Speaking of Mars, here's one of the light fixtures I selected for the kitchen. Very modern. Poor BF, who'd prefer traditional or country or something, isn't thrilled with it, but that's my end of the house to decorate. Given my way (I won't be), I'd decorate the whole house in mid-century modern (without the hideous green or orange fabrics) with lots of lucite and glass.

I had a little scare with Pink today: a plastic bag with a project in it slid off the pile and landed next to the cage. Pink grabbed it while I was out of the room, dragged it into the cage and chomped on the bag. Eeek--he regularly chews holes in his big towels, so he could have wiped out a whole lot of hard work. Wow--one more thing I'll have to watch with that guy.
"I'm a tortured artist in exile."

"Next stop is the garage for us, chum. You're a pink-eared idiot."