She don't lead a glamorous life...

Trash can featuring raised inlay apple.

I would like to say that I spent my weekend doing something glamorous and exciting like going to a gallery opening or a charity art auction, but the truth is I spent it tearing down a rotting arbor and helping my husband blow insulation into the attic of his shop. Oh, the things we do for love! By the time we were finished, I was wearing a thin coating of fuzzy recycled paper that left me looking a little like an oversized, sweaty, cranky teddy bear--and I was the lucky one feeding the bails into the grinder. Was it worth every minute? In a way, yes. My husband is a woodworker, and I am supportive of this hobby for three reasons. First, I have great furniture. Second, I believe that we all need some sort of creative outlet to keep us sane. Third, he is supportive of my hobbies and interests--and I am sure he has been to an art event or two that he enjoyed about as much as I enjoyed installing insulation.

Some years ago, John and I had a joint exhibit that was attended by many friends, co-workers, and complete strangers. One of his co-workers stopped to chat with me and asked me a really honest question. She said, "I understand why John builds things. It's functional, and it's a good second income for him. But of all the things you could spend your free time doing, why do you paint?"  My reply was:  "Because it's cheaper than therapy and healthier than booze." And, I was being completely and utterly honest.

When I paint/draw, it takes me to my zen place. The rest of the world melts away, my brain shuts off, and I am totally relaxed and out of myself for awhile. Sometimes when I finish a piece or stop for the day, I look at the work and think to myself, "Did I do that?" I used to joke with my husband that it was like being possessed, and it is, but in a good way.

Woodworking is more than just a second income for my husband. It is what takes him to his zen place. We all need that to stay sane in this world, so if the price of his sanity is spending an afternoon coated in cellulose, I say:  Bring on the dust mask!