Is it morning yet?

Each day I go to my studio full of joy; 

in the evening when obliged to stop because of darkness 

I can scarcely wait for the morning to come ... 

ADOLFE-WILLIAM BOUGEREAU

A couple of weeks or so ago, while I was out on the front porch talking with the FedEx guy who was delivering a few paints to replenish my supply, and the dogs were going crazy in the parlor because I was out on the porch talking with the FedEx guy, one of them (I suspect Roadie or Andy) started pulling on the center divider light of one of the double-paned windows making up the bay window and with an eardrum-piercing crack the inner pane of the window broke in a giant star pattern from the center out to the frame. I said a hasty good day to the FedEx guy and ran back in the house to see what had happened, getting to the doorway of the parlor at the same time as Paul. Needless to say we were none too pleased. Paul shooed the dogs out and closed the door as I went for the broom and the vacuum cleaner. I picked up the pieces of glass that had fallen out on the floor, swept and vacuumed the area while Paul examined the dogs to make sure nobody was hurt. At the same time, both of us were going over in our minds how we could go about finding new homes for seven dogs.*

(*Not really. Both of us would be brokenhearted if we ever had to give up any of our motley crew. We just fantasize from time to time about how it would be to be a two-dog family.)

Anyway, I didn’t have the time right then to pull all the rest of the glass out of the window frame. Even though it was in shards, they were still glued in pretty strongly all around the edges of the frame, and the outer pane was still completely intact, so after I cleaned up all the loose glass I pushed a bookcase in front of the window until I could get to it. This morning I got to it. I gathered up some masking tape, a hammer and a trash can, went into the parlor and closed the door so none of the dogs would come in and “help” me, and, wearing safety goggles and leather work gloves, proceeded to pull the broken glass out of the frame. After I had finished working loose the smaller to medium sized shards, I was left with a large section at the top of the frame which I wouldn’t be able to remove without breaking it into smaller pieces, so put several masking tape X’s over it and proceeded to tap, tap, tap with the hammer until it cracked into more manageable pieces which I could then work loose. 

Well, in working one of these pieces loose, an adjacent shard which had somehow escaped being secured by any of the tape just jumped out and dropped, point down, straight onto the top of my foot. I told you that I had engaged in the proper safety measures of wearing goggles and leather gloves, but what I neglected to mention is that on this very hot morning I was wearing sandals. Not hefty sandals, like Birkenstocks. Skimpy sandals. The next-best-thing-to-being-barefoot sandals. 

So I watched this glass shard fly out from the window frame in slow motion heading straight toward my foot like a miniature guided missile. And the next thing I knew, my foot was literally standing in a pool of blood on the wood floor. I very calmly lifted the shard from the top of my foot where it had stuck right on top of the big bone that connects to the big toe, sat down at the little glass top table which is right there by the window, put my foot up on the table, pulled my phone out of my pocket and called my husband, who was in the den and who I knew would probably not hear me if I just called out. I very calmly told him what happened, and asked him to bring me some paper towels and a plastic bag from the kitchen so I could walk to the bathroom without getting blood all over the floor. Then I calmly waited, looking at my foot which I knew had just a little pinpoint of a wound in it but it was hard to see that at the time because it was covered in blood. 

When Paul came in with the paper towels and plastic bag he kind of freaked out a little bit, which I knew he would, but calmed down when I told him I was really all right, that it looked a lot worse than it really was. 

THEN, looking at the blood on the floor, and at my blood-marinated foot, he said, “Honey, you should take a picture of this for your blog!” I just busted out laughing, and said I don’t think so! Listen, Mister, what kind of a blog do you think I’m running, anyway? 

So instead, I offer you a picture of our sunlight-dappled driveway I took late this afternoon out my studio window. Much more beautiful and peaceful a scene. And suitable for any audience.

P.S. We cleaned my foot up, and sure enough, it was just a teeny little pinpoint of a wound which had been in just the right placed to cause a lot of bleeding for a very few minutes. We cleaned it thoroughly, dabbed on some neosporin, stuck on a bandaid and I was good to go. It didn’t even hurt after a few minutes. I thank the Lord, because it could have been a WHOLE lot worse. As it turned out, it was kind of just a reminder to WEAR SHOES AND SOCKS when you’re pulling broken glass out of a window frame.

And here’s where I am on the new Colorado landscape:

Happy painting, all!