Curse you, Bob Ross!!

I had an adventure today.

I'm sure every one of you has had the desire to paint. It looks so inviting to dip a clean brush into a little mound of color and make it do whatever you want it to do. Right? Right. I'm sure every one of you has seen multiple episodes of Bob Ross... with his floofy hair and his happy trees and clouds... and it looks like anyone could do it! Right? Right.

I've had Grandma Jean's old oil painting things stored away since she died. I attempted to begin to try to sort of kind of paint once a long time ago, but I got intimidated and worried and I stopped. But this week I dusted off the paint box, took inventory of brushes, easels, canvases, palettes and even more and planned to paint. I was smart and checked out a book from the library all about oil painting. Once I could tell the difference between a flat brush, a bright brush and a filbert, I took things seriously.

So this afternoon, I galavanted to Robert's Arts and Crafts Store ((my first time!)) and came out with arms full of little tubes of oil paints in colors such as "phthalocyanine blue," "alizarin crimson" and "burnt umber." I had a bottle of linseed oil and one of turpentine. I put my grungy clothes on and found a nice little place to set up my studio and I was all set! And guess what??

• I successfully dyed my hands blue within the first ten minutes.
  
• I cried.
  
• I laughed.
  
• I mumbled rude things to the canvas.
• I mixed colors like a pro. And then like a not-so-pro.
• I dyed my hands blue. Again.
  
• I used almost the whole bottle of turpentine.
• I never did get the clouds to look like clouds, so there aren't any.
• I got paint smudges on my face and clothes.
• I used paper towel after paper towel. After paper towel.
• I dyed my hands a yucky shade of green.
• I came off triumphant.
  

And now I can tell you that I am officially a painter.

-ish.

Well, it's finished and I'm happy. That's what being a painter entails, right? It was a lot harder than it looks, but I'm going to do it again! Hopefully I'll get better, and then I'll sell my masterpieces and make money. Ha. But seriously, I need a job. Anybody need a slave?

And according to the computer... neither floofy nor phthalocyanine are words. Hmph.