I just returned from a mighty week-long excursion with my family and nine aged 60+ family friends somewhere south of Paris. It was quite a change from worm or paris life as you would imagine, it was quaint and quiet and fresh and old and generally more relaxing. I do realize that its great for a week but bad for a lifetime.
People there age so slow (however, not as slow as old americans.) In the country, days feel like weeks and then once a week is over you wonder what the hell you just did to make the week feel like a day.
The last two are my first true efforts in 'en plein air' water-color. Which proves to be much harder than it looks because you cant paint over a damn thing and painting- as my sister would call them 'bob ross' settings- gets to be a tid boring. and hottxxxx as hellz ballzXXX. i ended up pumping Afrika Bambaataa dance remixes and jumping around the field, eyes closed and sunstroked, to regain the sight that was lost by staring at a glaring white roll of paper for 3 hrs. i bet Monet never did that. In fact, I know he didn't cause his ass went blind.
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