The Owl and the Pussy-Cat by Edward Lear.

The Owl and the Pussy-cat went to sea
   In a beautiful pea-green boat,
They took some honey, and plenty of money,
   Wrapped up in a five-pound note.
The Owl looked up to the stars above,
   And sang to a small guitar,
“O lovely Pussy! O Pussy, my love,
    What a beautiful Pussy you are,
         You are,
         You are!
What a beautiful Pussy you are!”
Pussy said to the Owl, “You elegant fowl!
   How charmingly sweet you sing!
O let us be married! too long we have tarried:
   But what shall we do for a ring?”
They sailed away, for a year and a day,
   To the land where the Bong-Tree grows
And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood
   With a ring at the end of his nose,
             His nose,
             His nose,
   With a ring at the end of his nose.
“Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling
   Your ring?” Said the Piggy, “I will.”
So they took it away, and were married next day
   By the Turkey who lives on the hill.
They dined on mince, and slices of quince,
   Which they ate with a runcible spoon;
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,
   They danced by the light of the moon,
             The moon,
             The moon,
They danced by the light of the moon.
                                                  –Edward Lear, 1871

The Milk Jug.

When you think of the humble milk jug, you aren’t thinking of me. I am not humble. I’m actually rather proud. You see, I am a milk jug of rare distinction. While others are content to hold mismatched spoons and collect dust, I am called to a higher purpose. I do nothing short of oversee the fortunes of the family in my care. 

They are a rather motley bunch, but I’m fond of them. I get dusted more regularly than the plain, useless dishware. Every morning they wave hello and each evening they nod me their thanks. I don’t need it really. I know that without me they’d all starve and be worse off than they already are. They know it too. I’m sure.

I have been placed on a high shelf, as befits one of such importance and all the better to see the entire kitchen. It’s a small room and not very well laid out. It’s not my family’s fault. It was the builders of this place. There isn’t nearly enough light and almost no workspace, hardly any storage at all. It’s rather drab and uninspiring really.

My job isn’t to help them with decor, though I am beautiful to behold, or worse, the drudgery of cleaning. No. My work, my joy, is to gently, yet firmly, intercede on my family’s behalf with the Universe. It requires a great deal of tenacity and subtley. Not many can do it. But I can. 

As long as I am here and well looked after, there will always be enough. The table will always have something on it. The clothing will always last just a little longer. The home repairs won’t be quite as hard as they might have otherwise been. Prosperity will come when it is needed the most. All these things and more will fill me up until I overflow and pour out onto my family.

Because I am The Milk Jug. Far more precious than others of my kind. And far more powerful than you will ever know.

Practice.

Practice everywhere.

Practice where you are. 

Practice right now.

Practice with what you have.

Practice with run down, worn out, barely-there supplies. 

Practice with fresh from the store, pristine, never been touched supplies.

Practice when you are alone. 

Practice when you are surrounded by people. 

Practice when you’re being told what a great artist you are. 

Practice when you are being told you will never amount to anything. 

Practice when you don’t know what to do.

Practice when you know exactly what you want to do.

Practice for yourself. 

Practice to be. 

Practice to become.

And when all else fails, draw a Chris Hart kitten in your planner.

Finger Painting.

I am still getting the knack of digital art. It’s a challenge and that’s good. I enjoy pushing myself and learning. Right now I’m focused on getting my hand on the tablet and eye on the screen to work as a team.

Eventually, I become frustrated, put away my Wacom, and finger paint on my tablet. While what I create is not very good, it relaxes me in a way meditation never can. 

It’s exactly what I need to refresh myself before going back to practice working on a single layer in GIMP.