Appreciating the arts

Just a little housekeeping here! I've always had an affinity for the arts. Paintings, furniture, photos, the odd ceramic--bring it on! I don't have any artistic talent (as evidenced by the scary drawing I did of myself the other day) so I when went through a short-lived paint by number phase, I thought I could finally experience the joy of creating. I should have known a motorcycle print was too advanced for my skill set. It ended up killing my dreams. Maybe I just needed a muse.

I recently read an article about a man who boycotts Renoir, going so far as to picket outside of museums.  Seems like a very hipstery thing to do, in my opinion, but it got me thinking about my artist nemesis.  We all have one, right?  It seems really strange that I never acknowledged Thomas Kinkade's death here on my (blog) after I spent so many years in a painter-of-light infused rant. Perhaps because I finally felt like I could relax knowing that the world was free.  But then I thought about it, Titian had a workshop and apprentices and I never questioned it, so why couldn't I just let Thom be?  I don't know, Thom just touched me in the opposite way he touched millions of others. Perhaps I have softened over time. Rest in peace, TK.

Speaking of the arts, we went to King Richard's Faire a few weeks back. I never had any desire to go in the past, but then I went a few years ago and realized what a feast for the eyes it is. The turkey legs are a bit suspect, though. I heard a rumor floating around that they were actually ham.  Also, I dropped $60 almost immediately on beer tickets. Worth it! Jackie tried her hand at archery and Jacob's Ladder where she repeatedly fell into a pile of hay. She even went on a ride of yore wherein she came flying down a zipline on a wooden horse, trying to catch something on a sword. We paid for extra turns and the ride attendant had to manually hoist her, horse and all, back up the zipline.  Oh, what merriment! 

This year, we went on a fairly warm day so I wore shorts in a peachy shade. If there's one thing I hate, it's getting my clothes dirty and it had recently rained increasing the risk for mess. As soon as I sat down at a ye olde picnick table, I had a big smear of dirt on the front of my shorts. I asked Jackie is there was anything on the back and she took a photo and this is what I saw:  

What a wise guy.  These shorts, which were not actually soiled, went right to the goodwill bag after that. I did not want to know the answer to the eternal question "What do I look like from behind?"