Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life? Since you cannot do this very little thing, why do you worry about the rest? “Consider how the lilies grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today, and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, how much more will he clothe you, O you of little faith! Luke 12:25-28 (NIV)
I warned you at the beginning of November that posts would be few and far between for a while. Between History Fair, History teacher’s meetings and a billion speaking engagements (well, not a billion but when you have eaten a half dozen rubber banquet chickens and sat through countless business meetings of organizations you are not a part of waiting your turn to speak, it feels like a billion), life is very full. This week alone I will have sixteen hours of comp time. It is no wonder that my blood pressure is sky high and today, my doctor lectured me about “the silent killer” and urged me to fill and TAKE the prescription she gave me. I only saw her because my toe still hurts. I’m convinced when my toe quits hurting my blood pressure will go down, but of course, that will also be about the time November is over. If I don’t end up in the emergency room from a stroke or food poisoning first. All of that to say that the last thing I needed was to finally get the appointment I have been angling for at our local art center to show them some of my glass work and see if they will sell it in their market. But, of course, I did get the appointment. In between working overtime I’ve madly scrambled to make and fire more things. The appointment is tomorrow, so today after the doctor’s appointment, I bought seventeen dollars worth of bubble wrap and a bag of Lindt milk chocolate candies. The chocolate was because the silent killer might catch up with me at any moment, and I want to die happy. The bubble warp was in case it doesn’t, and I have to haul a thousand dollars worth of glass to the art center tomorrow. Though I already submitted my “portfolio”, I am filled with anxiety about whether they will want my work and whether I can afford to put it there. If they ask 40% commission as I have heard some galleries do, I will make about $10 per piece after I deduct my materials. Unless of course, Donald Trump decides to go shopping in on the west coast of Florida and buy it all up without looking at the price tags. Who knows? He might. Some of the pieces are quite nice even if I do say so myself. I’ve posted a few of my favorites. I love the orange and blue fish and the sunflower bowl turned out well, too. It’s funny to look back a year ago and see what I was so proud of then. I’ve come a long way. I just hope I can sell a few things to justify the time and money I have invested in this hobby. In the meantime, I will take a few deep breaths and try to relax about it. After all, worrying won’t help things. And staying calm might even keep the silent killer at bay.