In search of story

July 27.21: Coping


Modesty compels me

to unamended truth:

my talents are unbounded,

to lie would be uncouth.

As painter I achieve

the heights of bruise and groan;

in DIY Olympics

my prowess stands alone.

I don’t even have to aim

at microscopic spot,

it’s bull’s-eye for the blob

where drop cloth covers not.

Forever placid swan,

both my graced left feet

entwine within the ladder,

reliably tout de suite;

clutching for my life

is my practiced well-honed skill,

a teeter and grab,

and I am upright still!

My TA-DAs are unheard,

resounding nonetheless;

I curtsy in official

full-palette painting dress.

I put my whole self in my work —

that’s very plain to see;

my genius also makes me put

my work all over me:

as some folks wear their feelings

on sleeves, in public view,

just so I wear my colors

on elbow and on shoe.

Unframed, my art’s admired

by critics, one and all,

exclaiming how I even get

some painting on the wall.


As you know, dear reader, I have solemnly sworn to never ever paint an ant-sized bathroom again. So I’m tackling people-sized places. The weather has encouraged me to stay indoors and, since my writer’s muse has been suffering from some malaise, I have turned to my ever-ready home improvement muse.

Nothing testifies to progress more convincingly than a mound of used painter’s tape. Detaching it from me was a matter best left unsung: Woman vs Tape is not a pretty story.



12 thoughts on “July 27.21: Coping

  1. Thank you for the chuckles and the smiles while reading this. I love to paint, but I usually get as much on myself as the project. I had mounds of blue tape last week. I also have dedicated clothes and shoes for painting because I know my challenges. I hope you are thrilled with the results, and for sure keep that dress and those shoes for the next time. It’s also not your fault that the blobs hit the floor and not the drop cloth. They just don’t make those drop cloths the way they use to. šŸ™‚

    • Thank you! Of course it’s the drop cloth — why didn’t I think of that? I have had several painting dresses over the years; there comes a time when they are too stiff and must be retired but with a tear in the eye. I have a long way to go before all the walls are mine here, but what I have done so far is a real treat. I think I will never love to paint, but I do love what a new color can do!

  2. Brilliant. I love the photo and I especially love your line: “clutching for my life | is my practiced well-honed skill”

    I hear ‘ya sister, loud and clear.

  3. I love this entry… you cracked me up. I hope the results of your paint job is as wonderful as your poetry.

  4. Iā€™m laughing and reading this out loud to my brother. Thanks for the laughs.

  5. Your unbounded talents kept in order by the tape made me think. If only writing skills could be kept on track by some such practical means. I confess to wondering whether it was cream tape with blue paint or the other way around.

    • An understandable confusion. If I hadn’t been here for the mischief, I wouldn’t know myself. But the cream color is the color of the paint. It’s called Reliable White — how unappealing is that? I think it should be called Extreme Cafe Au Lait white. Lots more lait than cafe. And I so agree with you that there should be something like tape to keep writing on track. I’d buy a lot of it!

      • I did think there was rather a lot of blue, but if you had had similar painting skills to me, that would have explained it. Of course I should have known better! Reliable White is no doubt a best seller, especially in these days when we have no end of ‘off’ whites. Its unreliability is either another sign of the times, or else proof of irony in the paint company’s sales and marketing department.

      • I go with irony — I like that!

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