Sometime ago, before I had this life– I had time to have a creative life. Sounds harsh, but before a family with four boys, a profession that occupies most of my days, and commitments that drain me before I drop dead into the sack– that life was about being musing and creation. I painted, I picked folk songs on the guitar, hell– I even wrote poetry. Somewhere along the way I waggled from my course and lost all of my creative hobbies. This summer I claimed them and took one back. A bad morning and a broken schedule one afternoon lead me to the art supply store and I bought a handful of paint, brushes, and a few cheap canvases. I quickly learned that painting is a habit of practice, kind of like shooting freethrows. I’m not nearly back on my game– but here’s what came out of the new studio. . .