9I spent the rest of the morning setting up a little art studio space in one corner of my living room. Then, I spent several hours doing sketches and beginning on an oil painting, just trying to take my mind off Jim. I wasn’t very successful. Particularly since he and I were the subject of my painting. I wasn’t sure why, but I’d felt compelled to paint the scene of when we’d approached the bar the night before. I’d made a start on it anyway, painting some of the towering trees around it and the dark spaces between them, and part of the moonlit path leading up to the wide, party-goer-filled porch. I’d paint the two small figures approaching the porch, holding hands, last.
Around three in the afternoon, Jen came through one of my kitchen windows, announcing that the “snack patrol” had arriv
