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Daily wordcount: 704
Total wordcount: 31,168
On/off target: -7,173
Terrible day! I did force myself to write at least 500 words, but didn't manage much more than that.
Apparently the annoyance of the mess had either worn off, or I had imagined it, because once we sat down to eat Steve was his usual, jovial self. I set down my sketching to eat, but as soon as I was done I picked up the pad once more. I had already worked one of the symbols into a design, not I just needed to do another and decide which would be stitched and which would be the 'reject' that was left on the desk.
"You're really into that," Steve remarked.
"If I'd known it was going to be this much fun, I would have scrimped and saved to buy one sooner. I'm still working out the color changes and the layering, though. It's hard!" I held up a sketch for him to see - not one of the hidden symbol designs - and pointed at a tricky area. "It's not just the color changes, but making sure nothing gets too bulky, and being able to flow the colors as much as possible to cut down on the stops and starts. I do wish I was a better artist, I was doing an art class once but quit about halfway through."
"Why did you give up?" He asked.
"I dunno, I mean, I could see myself improving with practice, but it took a lot of time, and I think I just ran out of enthusiasm. This was a few years ago, and I had some other things going on, and just didn't want to devote the time to it. It was a downloadable class, though, and I still have it saved. If I recall correctly, there were some fun lessons, like designing something out of a scribble, picking patterns out of watercolor blobs, that sort of thing. I liked the ones that required less actual artistic talent!"
"You try a lot of things, don't you?" Steve said, and I felt like there was an undercurrent to his question, but I didn't know where it was going.
"Yeah, I like trying new things, but there are some old favorites I go back to. I don't think I'll ever completely give up knitting, for one. And there will always be some level of sewing in my life - fixing things, if nothing else. But other things come and go, some because I decide they're not for me, some I just lose interest in. What about you? You like to cook, do you have other hobbies?"
"No, cooking is my only real hobby, if you can call it that," he said.
"Well, true, you do have to cook, but I would argue that once you elevate it past basic cooking? Maybe? I don't know, it feels like it should be something if not a hobby, and interest? Huh." I cocked my head to the side, thinking. Maybe a little theatrically, but Steve seemed to be taking the conversation seriously.
"Exactly, calling it a hobby doesn't seem quite right, but there is something to be said for it when you put in a lot of extra time and effort, like when you pay attention to presentation, which I admit has been lacking in my dishes here, I do try sometimes, but I'm not the best at it. I really would rather concentrate on the flavor."
"I am a hundred percent with you on that," I said, glad I seemed to have distracted him and we were off the subject of my hobbies. "Taste over appearance any day, though I wouldn't say your presentation has been at all unappealing, you also haven't graced my plate with a carrot rose, so..."
"Are you supposed to eat those?" Steve asked. "I mean, it's food, but it somehow feels wrong to eat them, if you know what I mean?"
"Yes, I know exactly what you mean! I had a coworker once who made a salad out of the lettuce that was lining a fruit tray, and I thought it was really odd, but she was like, 'it's lettuce, why not eat it?' and I couldn't argue with that, except it still seemed incredibly wrong? I think that's very much a luxury of the first world, having purely decorative food on your plate."
Total wordcount: 31,168
On/off target: -7,173
Terrible day! I did force myself to write at least 500 words, but didn't manage much more than that.
Apparently the annoyance of the mess had either worn off, or I had imagined it, because once we sat down to eat Steve was his usual, jovial self. I set down my sketching to eat, but as soon as I was done I picked up the pad once more. I had already worked one of the symbols into a design, not I just needed to do another and decide which would be stitched and which would be the 'reject' that was left on the desk.
"You're really into that," Steve remarked.
"If I'd known it was going to be this much fun, I would have scrimped and saved to buy one sooner. I'm still working out the color changes and the layering, though. It's hard!" I held up a sketch for him to see - not one of the hidden symbol designs - and pointed at a tricky area. "It's not just the color changes, but making sure nothing gets too bulky, and being able to flow the colors as much as possible to cut down on the stops and starts. I do wish I was a better artist, I was doing an art class once but quit about halfway through."
"Why did you give up?" He asked.
"I dunno, I mean, I could see myself improving with practice, but it took a lot of time, and I think I just ran out of enthusiasm. This was a few years ago, and I had some other things going on, and just didn't want to devote the time to it. It was a downloadable class, though, and I still have it saved. If I recall correctly, there were some fun lessons, like designing something out of a scribble, picking patterns out of watercolor blobs, that sort of thing. I liked the ones that required less actual artistic talent!"
"You try a lot of things, don't you?" Steve said, and I felt like there was an undercurrent to his question, but I didn't know where it was going.
"Yeah, I like trying new things, but there are some old favorites I go back to. I don't think I'll ever completely give up knitting, for one. And there will always be some level of sewing in my life - fixing things, if nothing else. But other things come and go, some because I decide they're not for me, some I just lose interest in. What about you? You like to cook, do you have other hobbies?"
"No, cooking is my only real hobby, if you can call it that," he said.
"Well, true, you do have to cook, but I would argue that once you elevate it past basic cooking? Maybe? I don't know, it feels like it should be something if not a hobby, and interest? Huh." I cocked my head to the side, thinking. Maybe a little theatrically, but Steve seemed to be taking the conversation seriously.
"Exactly, calling it a hobby doesn't seem quite right, but there is something to be said for it when you put in a lot of extra time and effort, like when you pay attention to presentation, which I admit has been lacking in my dishes here, I do try sometimes, but I'm not the best at it. I really would rather concentrate on the flavor."
"I am a hundred percent with you on that," I said, glad I seemed to have distracted him and we were off the subject of my hobbies. "Taste over appearance any day, though I wouldn't say your presentation has been at all unappealing, you also haven't graced my plate with a carrot rose, so..."
"Are you supposed to eat those?" Steve asked. "I mean, it's food, but it somehow feels wrong to eat them, if you know what I mean?"
"Yes, I know exactly what you mean! I had a coworker once who made a salad out of the lettuce that was lining a fruit tray, and I thought it was really odd, but she was like, 'it's lettuce, why not eat it?' and I couldn't argue with that, except it still seemed incredibly wrong? I think that's very much a luxury of the first world, having purely decorative food on your plate."
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