Years ago I read a book called, I think, something like American Quilt.  There was a character in the story that broke her favorite plates when she was upset over a divorce? and turned it around into something beautiful by using the pieces to create a mosaic on her walls.  She continued to add to the art through other traumas.  The scene I saw in my mind stuck with me all this time.

This tangling pattern addiction brought this vision of wall decorating to my heart.  R was teasing me about always sitting here drawing now.  I told him I was thinking of tangling the entire house inside and out.  He didn’t say no.  He laughed and said, “Now I know that isn’t true, because we have very high ceilings and I know you won’t get up on a ladder or scaffold.”  But he didn’t say no.

Okay, I admitted…