I am sure I have mentioned before that my adorable wife is an artist.
She draws and paints. Watercolors, oils... sometimes pencil - she's wicked with a box of crayolas.
I marvel at her talent. She is very good. Really. I am not just saying that because ...well you know.
Lucky for her she picked me. You see, where she excels at the creative with her fine eye and keen color sense - she sorta lacks in areas of ... well, common sense.
Not a problem, because I am filled with sound judgement. I brim with it.
For example, she would think nothing of sending an original watercolor postcard all the way across the country via the trusty United States Postal Service - without even putting it in an envelope.
It is at these times that I try to impress upon my blithe wife some prudence. Sometimes she listens, sometimes she simply wanders away.
I have long since learned to let her wander happily off.
She has such a gentle way about her. She lets things take on a life of their own.
It will be fine - she says lightly.
But what about the rain - I try to assert.
If the watercolor gets wet (ends up a soupy mess) then that will be art too, she explains to me.
She teaches me to be patient and calm and centered. (she beat me to the post office)
She is my muse.
The watercolor? Well... however it reached its destination - it was exactly as it should be.