Busy Being Me

• In the past week I have hardly left the resort except to fetch groceries and art supplies. Today I made a special trip to the nearby Target Store to buy an alarm clock with 4-inch bright red numbers and a piercing beep-beep-beep alarm. Having developed a habit of sleeping until almost 7 a.m., I need this technical assistance to ensure my timely arrival at scheduled activities on Monday, Tuesday and Thursday mornings. I don’t need an alarm clock for the Wednesday and Saturday noon-hours when I can be found perched on a stool at the pool-side hamburger counter, bobble-heading along with the live music. For these and other activities, I simply rely on a wristwatch that shows the day of the week.

• Monday and Tuesday mornings, the resident art group takes over the small free-coffee room that looks out onto the frenzied activity of the daily sand volleyball game. In contrast, we artists settle into our projects – some wielding oil paints and others splattering watercolour – and the room becomes so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Occasionally the spell is broken by the comings and goings of the coffee crowd whose interruptions provide opportunities to wander about, look at each others' paintings, share tips and tricks, and offer kindly comments. At noon the art group clears the room in favour of some other group that is always anxious to set up sewing machines or the makings for some other crafty pursuit. Golden Village will be having an art show and sale in mid-February so I am working to produce some show-worthy paintings.

• Thursday mornings I pack myself off to a writers group. Joei Carlton, a professional travel writer shares her time and talent with two writer-wannabes (self included). We each take our turn reading our own work and getting feedback and suggestions. Thursday afternoons are for line-dancing class which provides lots of fun and a good work-out.

• Sunday afternoon, I went to the inaugural meeting of the “Socrates Café”. This group’s goal is to engage in critical thinking and philosophical discussion as an alternative to the usual resort chatter which typically revolves around “where are you from?” and “how big is your rig?” After two hours of discussion about “the right to die”, I concluded that my goal on this trip is to avoid critical thinking and philosophical discussion and focus on learning where people are from and how big is their rig.

• I can hardly believe the good luck that there is a Michael’s art supply store within a 10-minute walk. However, I don’t feel so lucky when I see the high prices in combination with the dropping value of the Canadian dollar! Of course some art supplies are free; namely roadside rocks. As I wander around, my head is usually angled downward, moving slightly from side to side as my eyes search the ground as if I’d lost something incredibly valuable. Here and there, I pick up a small rock or two and roll them over in my hand before tossing some back to the ground and shoving others into my pockets. I suspect some folks who see this routine may wonder if I’m ‘all there’.
  

• The resort has had two small craft fairs. At a table alongside authors, lamp-makers, jam and cookie sellers, and creators of assorted home-made odds and ends, I set out painted rocks for sale. The first sale was poorly attended due to a combination of lousy weather and a disrupted water supply, courtesy of someone who ran their vehicle into the resort's main water pipe. I nearly died of boredom! For the second sale I took along a bag of rocks and my painting supplies. Once I got busy, I felt somewhat annoyed when people interrupted me to chat or buy a rock. I sold 15 rocks in a few hours. Not enough to inspire me to become a full-time rock artist but enough to flatter my artistic sensitivity!