My Lost Week-End
I'm remembering the trained chicken when I saw at the Wisconsin Dells when I was about five years old. For a minimal but obviously significant reward the chicken would perform some sort of repetitive task. For the past few days, I have become the chicken.

After reading via Melanie Bettinelli, that the Free Rice website now had a famous paintings review... well, it was all down hill from there. Between that and the introduction of the insidious Flood-It, well, shame on me.

We did get our Etsy site underway, but Fran did the mental heavy lifting and picture taking. And I finally vacuumed the cobbies and dust bunnies away from the furnace area in the laundry room. That was a job so mentally taxing that it sent me running back to refresh my art memory. And I pulled myself away long enough to finally winnow out the huge basket of socks without mates*. While watching the most vile and pointless movie; which I watched all the way to the end in hopes of finding some moment of redemption or at least explanation.

So, yeah, except for that sanctified hour yesterday morning it was pretty much a blank. If you don't count the chance to bask in the glow of remembering Thomas Cole...

* - Martha: Any interesting socks are now in your room in hopes that their mates might still appear as I continue my purge of the laundry room.