Be Bad at Something

For whatever reason, the Fates threw a really neat easel in my path while I was walking in Georgetown, DC. After church, I was returning to my secret parking location hidden from most of Georgetown. It’s a nifty place with old houses and brick sidewalks so close to the main drag, traffic noises can still be heard, yet no one knows you’re there, listening.

The easel was sitting next to one of those huge containers builders use to throw away construction waste. Years ago, I saw one of these easels for sale at an art store and couldn’t bring myself to spend that much money because I didn’t even draw. But there it was - free.

It even folds up into a briefcase so I can tote it into a field and paint, paint, paint on days I am feeling overly 19th century.

This is truly a find. There’s only one problem: I really stink at drawing.

My tiny living room has one corner taken up by this thing that I love, but honestly don’t deserve. Someone, anyone with at least some talent should be using…