Wow. What can I say? That I sit at the kitchen table all day, eating ice cream? Does he really think that I find all the hidden Snicker bars and scarf them down with no one to stop me? They do go really well with ice cream… Okay, I’ll be honest. That could have happened.
But really, that is his fondest dream; to be left alone with the refrigerator for seven hours, with no one to stop him.
That’s not quite how it is. Since you asked, Son, I will show you what happened at the kitchen table while you were gone.
The one on the left is a 99 cent cheap thing from the hardware store. It is ancient, hardened, crusted over and pretty much destroyed. But that's why I like it so much. That old brush can do things that no other brush can. Like paint abstract, splotchy spots to make seeds in St. Francis' bowl, for example. None of my other brushes can do that. It is precisely because that old brush is ruined that I like it so much, and use it so often. I need it. At times, I have taken a scissors and snipped some of the inside bristles, thinning it out even more. There's not much left of it, really.
That's why it's so valuable.
As I painted today, I did a lot of pondering about brushes and people.
People are just like my brushes... They are all unique, for their own special purpose.
And we need them all.
And I made cookies.