Letting out a big sigh of relief right about now. I just delivered well over 100 figurative paintings (including the one featured here) to the Castleton Downtown Gallery for a show which opens the first of July. Like so many things in life, getting ready for this show, aptly titled Go Figure, was fraught with many potential stumbling blocks. Rather than describing the mundane frustrations I have encountered, I will just say that it was a bit like the little tufted titmouse who repeatedly is flying into my window convinced that the image of a threatening competitor is real! Nothing too interesting or life altering in any of that, but it has brought to mind more important events that have changed the course of my life. One of those was the arrival of my youngest son, Harry. He arrived with that first name and a heartbreaking back story. He was an abandoned baby, teeny weeny and clearly scared. My memory of holding him for the first time was of him gripping my skin with his fingers and toes and holding himself on to me for dear life. This is not normal behavior for a 6 month old who should be all soft and floppy. This unprecedented early physical development, although the result of survival skills, has served him well. He is a natural athlete and incredibly strong. It took almost 12 years for the adoption to go through, but that day stands as one of the happiest in my life. I could, and probably should, write a book about all we have been through, but the happy ending to the story is that he is a handsome and successful adult who has a sweet and loving personality. Aside from my parents, he has done more to form the better parts of my character than anyone else. It is easy for others to view our story and react by saying what a wonderful thing I have done for him. But, truth be told, it really is the other way around....Go Figure!