master of his domain

 

So there I was, having brunch, doing my usual bouncing back and forth, like at some demented tennis match, between "The Price Is Right" and "Best Of The Joy Of Painting".

To escape the endless stream of 'lection 'mercials, right?

So, at one of these popovers to the latter, I was watching brush strokes when a nugget of pure gold dropped out of the Element.

(Get the pun? Remember, I'm a chemist with an invention...got it now?)

As I watched a "Babbling Brook" scene materialize, Bob Ross was babbling, too, in his calm, reassuring voice, about there being "no mistakes on the canvas, just happy accidents".

Why was that?

Because, as a painter creating an original, he was the master of that domain.

He had total control of whatever appeared in that oily milieu, even though at home he was "only in control of the trash".

That's when I realized another reason why I write.

I have control of the words I leave on the page, whether in the realm of my journal or on the worldwide shores of an ether sea.

That's very important for a control freak like me.

Pretty cool to have been vindicated with my brunch.

Thanks, Bob.

(smile!)

Right place, right time.