There have been additions to my spiritual life of some saintly women who appear at random without invitation. Meet Our Lady of Perfection who pulls up a chair along side mine whenever I sit down to write or paint. She draws her Pearls of Wisdom Rosary from her long, white skirt and reminds me that she has not seen me recently in the Chapel of Knowledge. “How can you possibly imagine that you have anything to say when you have been so negligent? Who do you think you are? And why would you even want to try to put anything down on paper…no one is interested in what you have to say. Why bother?” I try to argue with her that surely my many years on the planet have granted me some rights and perhaps some wisdom but she just looks at me disdainfully and shakes her head. Our Lady goes on to reprimand me for spending too many hours sitting and sipping at the Self-Indulgence Café on Easy Street. I’d like to choke her with her stupid Pearls.
Mother Superior, in charge of the Chapel of Perfection, nearly always joins Our Lady wearing a starched apron, her white gloved hands clutching a copy of Better Homes and Gardens or worse yet, Martha Stewart Living. Mother Superior smiles sweetly saying: “I am delighted that you are writing, dear. You have always been so bright and have had a way with words. Don’t mind me….I’m just here to remind you that your sheets haven’t been changed in two weeks, the mold is a pinky inch thick in your shower, you are out of milk, there are finger prints all over the back door and isn’t this the second time you have served tacos this week? I am just so proud of you just working so hard but I do wish you would take better care of yourself. Your nails are a sight and what are you doing about your weight? Your paintings are interesting but perhaps, dear, they might be more appealing if you, well, you know, put something more defined and cheerful in them like flowers. Petunias are lovely, daisies are always refreshing and I am just sure there is a market for Texas bluebonnets. And those crazy aprons? Now who do you imagine is going to wear one of those much less understand your very strange sense of humor?”

Jeez, MS, go away. I gotta do what I gotta do. I can't stand bluebonnet paintings and these funky aprons are just too much fun to make.