Back in the day, I had more free time than I do now.
Before raising three kids, running a business, and writing novels, I occasionally took time out to draw, quilt, relax, play.
Well, I still take time out to relax and play. But it’s been a mighty long time since I’ve started any kind of creative project that takes more than an hour or so to complete.
(And I can’t think of anything fun that take less than an hour to complete.)
I’ve had to put these kinds of things I’ve put on *pause.*
One of these days, life will ease up a bit and I can play with the art supplies I still keep nearby (at least I can enjoy looking at them right? Who doesn’t like looking at art supplies?).
I can take advantage of the fact that my husband teaches freaking amazing art classes and finally move beyond Beginning Drawing 1 (which I’ve taken twice).
I might even pull out the quilt I started years ago and finish piecing the top together.
There’s nothing grand about any of these ambitions.
I’m not drawing or painting or quilting at a professional level, but that’s not really the goal. In fact, that’s part of the charm.
There is something sweet about doing something just because you like it.
No other reason at all. Just that.
Am I alone in this?