Day Twelve is the word Adult, since it was our first date night in a long long time. I got to dress up and wear heels, which lasted about an hour, before I ended up in the flats I brought. The painting I drew actually looks disturbingly like Norma Desmond in Sunset Boulevard, which isn't helped by the fact that I was holding a martini in the picture and drew myself in pearls and mascara. I have repainted it, and each time erased it and ended up repainting and still looking like this:
Mr. DeMille, I am ready for my close-up.
I will try to repaint it again and again and again until it is simply a martini. Actually, that is a good idea. I can paint a martini, even if I can't drink it with all the early bedtimes we abide by here. I will turn to the page lovingly when I am knee deep in a tantrum.
It was chilly and I couldn't think of a word.
I hit 25k on my NaNoWriMo novel. WooHoo. Yippee. Hooray.
Today is my husband's birthday. I made a cake. I can't bake. It looks nice in this painting though.