That's what I get.

I got derailed this weekend with a helluva virus, thanks in part to the last few weeks of moonlight hikes and rock shows, I'm sure.  This morning I am feeling much better, but foggy-brained.  Coming into the studio and taking photos of the work in progress makes me realize that the next three weeks need Major Focus Time. 

Chicken Little, closer to fine.

This is the most dangerous time for  these pieces.  It's when I start to get down to details that things can go dreadfully wrong.  Of course, that is all part of the process. My friend Christine over at Du Buh Du had a similar situation a few weeks ago, and described it very elegantly.

Not sure what the story is on this one yet. A smaller one, quickly done last week before the illness set in.

The Owls are Not what They Seem.

"(S)he finds that lions do not understand (her) language."

In other news, the Art for India auction was last night at the PoetHouse.  I don't know the exact results yet of the fundraiser, but when I left at seven (I didn't want my wheezing to distract from the great live music), the loft was packed and the canvas that I had worked had sold several sections.  

All right. Back to work, ignoring the most beautiful day outside...