So while the hand did really well in the first few days of healing, that's slowed down by a bit. Maybe possibly I popped a stitch or two maybe possibly while oil painting last Friday because maybe possibly using a palette knife maybe possibly puts pressure on that section of hand…

It's fine, and the stitches came out last Saturday, but I'm resigned to watercolors, inks, and acrylics until the healing bits are a bit stronger. Those are still a challenge as I still need to keep the area dry, but also try keep it uncovered and exposed to air. Wooo.

​Here's a pic of the current setup, a vinyl glove – with a hair elastic around the wrist to hold it in place. Because otherwise, with just the glove, paint still finds a way to get in there, as seen in the second picture.

There are few things more aggravating than a camera battery dying long before the memory card is filled. Especially when you left the spare battery on the charger. Still had the iPhone as a backup, and took several hundred photos, at least.

That is all. For now.

Had follow-up at urgent care, and my hand gives plenty of evidence of healing fast. It feels almost normal, like barely a scrape. I still have to keep it clean and protected during regular activities, but luckily last time I was oil painting, I started using vinyl gloves, anyway — because holy cow do I make a kindergarten-level mess of myself! I can probably use the gloves for watercolors without fussing about it too much. 

​Stay tuned, true believers. Some crazy painting stuff is gonna go down, and soon. (KNOCK ON WOOD)

Got some things done today, but not a lot. Mostly preparations for when I can do more. Took a much shorter, more level walk and a bunch more pictures. Got the studio mostly set up. Can't find the power cord to the big computer. Can't wait to have more use of my right hand.

To give you an idea of how right-handed I am: The Urgent Care Clinic let me sign the paperwork with my left hand. First, imagine what it would look like if someone were to write "ASS" during a major earthquake. Now imagine something much, much worse, and you're probably pretty close. When I brush my teeth using my left hand, I end up holding the brush still and moving my head around. I guess it's pretty funny. I mean, you're laughing, right?

Right. So I have to return to the clinic tomorrow (Monday) afternoon, and hopefully the next level of bandages will be less cumbersome. The pain is minimal – it pretty much feels like a scrape. I'm still surprised when I think of all that blood compared to the relatively small amount of pain. I wonder if anybody's noticed the splotches I left behind. I'm extremely curious to see them for myself, but discretion is so far holding out against the urge to walk that trail again.
​

… literally.

When I started the day, I imagined the title of this post being "it's all my fault," because of snow last night – I'd hoped that there would be snow when I got here, and it snowed last night, to the lack of delight of most other people.

As I continued the day with a stroll around Weir Pond, I thought I might wax poetic about walking through my paintings, as I recognized locations that I had painted before. Even as I stood up from a moderate slip in the snow, I was considering skipping posting altogether in favor of just getting down to some painting tonight.

It wasn't until I reached into my pocket for the camera to take some more pictures that I realized that I'd done more than just scrape my right hand when I landed on it and used it to steady myself to minimize that slip. 

I was bleeding all the fuck everywhere, and pretty damned sure I would need stitches. It was literally dripping. When I raised it over my head, blood ran down my sleeve. I held it in a sort of cupped shape, and the blood kept forming a puddle in my palm. A phone call, a short walk, and a short car ride (as a passenger) to Urgent Care to arrive 5 minutes before they closed later, I was right. Ten stitches, a tetanus booster shot, five days of antibiotics, plus a whole lot of keeping it dry and clean.

I've never had stitches before, outside of when I had my wisdom teeth out ±30 years ago. I guess there's first time for everything. This is definitely not part of the adventure I imagined.

​So, ah, I guess I'll be taking more pictures, and maybe some reading or writing, before I get a chance to start painting.

Welcome back. 

I mean that in more ways than one! First, I welcome you back to this blog, which has been dormant for a while, because many reasons. Second, I have been welcomed back to Weir Farm for another stint as Artist-in-Residence. This time I intend to focus on landscapes, mostly large oils, but also some smaller watercolors.

Of course, this will the first time in a looooong while that I'll be able to focus on art at all. It's been almost 2.5 years since the accident, and those years also featured the loss of my mother, and six weeks later my cat Smudge. To say nothing of my ability to work and support myself by any means, my creative momentum on many projects, both art and writing, and, well, large chunks of sanity along the way. The friends who've helped support me and hold me together during these years deserve sainthood for their efforts.

​I've made some good strides lately, and have some reason to believe I may have leveled up on my path to recovery. KNOCK ON WOOD. With my arrival at Weir, it seemed an opportune time to pull this website out of the closet – and have a means to let the world know what I was up to while hopefully minimizing social media backwash from whatever the world is up to.

So here it is. Here I am. I can't promise anything at this point, but I've opened the gate to this path of communication. 

I've unloaded the car, unpacked some things, and most things are just like they were back in February 2016. Keep your fingers crossed, because one way or another, some paint is gonna hit some surfaces, for better or for worse!