Molly Goatwax

But it's fun!

It is with great glee that I observe my penchant for harmless mischief is surfacing. This evening, taking advantage of the lonely hour and a piece of chalk that came to hand, I graffitied the concrete, painted warehouse floor of the studio. I wrote "DO BE A DOO-BEE DON'T BE A DON'T-BEE" on front of the shared kitchen area, knowing full well that my suite mates wouldn't share the experience of having watched "Romper Room" as tots. Nyah, Nyah, Nyah!

Sent by Molly

On the other Hand

These past few weeks have been quite ummm, challenging. The borrowed computer is driving me wiggy. An expected package did not arrive. I still don't have a mailbox key. The people from the other suites have been using up the hot water doing laundry in ours. I hadn't taken a cold shower since Girl Scout camp! On the other hand, at least my winter coat came back to me and a suite mate found my missing phone. I had a lovely piece of cheese cake with my coffee for breakfast. My heart shaped punch surfaced so the annual crop of Valentines is under way!

Nesting

I have been toiling away here at the studio, prepping paintings for photos and prepping photos for for our annual, regional competitions. I am also updating my portfolio on my online gallery, Saatchi and writing a grant proposal to fund my Valentines. So, all of you had better send your postal addresses to get one! 

marthagatewood at gmail dot com.

Sent from Molly

Greenmount

This is the view from my warehouse studio, through dirty glass. These neogothic gates were made in 1855, I believe. Through them rest the hoity toity of the golden age, the inventor of the Ouija Board and young mothers and children, victims of the Spanish flu. Who wouldn't want to wake up to gaze apon this garden of peace with coffee?

Radio Cat

This evening I heard a stray cat yelling on the fire escape outside my window at the new studio. I did not open the door. I've aquired a couple of cats that way. The first, who ran in turned out to be criminally insane. I named her after her former owner who had overdosed in the apartment next to me. She was a bad kitty. She bit me and shredded everything. Later in life she developed a thyroidid condition which caused her to eat the baby's food right out of her dish and poop in the oven burners. She would bite holes in wrapped loaves of bread. My roommate of 20 years decided to pay for Veterinary Care which turned out to kill her. 6 months later the animal clinic called to ask if I wanted her body back. She had turned radioactive and was finally deemed safe to collect.
   I said no thank you. Sorry cat.
The second cat tried to get in for three days before my husband finally opened the door and said "Oh well!". He was the nicest sweetie pie ever. Homer would let himself be danced around by the toddler and give me snoozing when I was sick. I miss him dearly.

P.S. The cat on the fire escape has gone elsewhere.

Sent from a gnome