Remember the agony, the angst, the moaning and groaning about Put My Parents In The Painting?
I decided it was the best I could make it, so I called The Customer, who drives a big rig all over the country. After lots of phone tag, he left me a message asking me to photograph it with my phone and text it to him. Obviously, he does not know me very well.
No worries – whenever I don’t know how to do something (like kill a Snake or face a dead kitty or operate Trail Guy’s DVD player), I just call S. She knows pertinear everything! She very graciously agreed to handle this task with her great phone and great skill.
The Customer liked the painting! (I think he probably couldn’t see it very well on his magical little phone.) A few more texts came through S, and I decided to preserve the friendship and release her from the misery of being my dispatcher.
I called The Customer and he ANSWERED his phone!! We discussed the painting, and he requested less sky, a higher treeline, and larger rocks in front of the house. He also mentioned a bird house. I scrutinized the photo under my giant lighted magnifying glass and believe the bird house is a figment of someone’s long-distance memory.

And here is the painting. As S said, “You can’t see the Dad’s face!” That’s correct. I cannot. That is why you cannot. If I can’t see it, I can’t paint it.
When The Customer returns to the area to retrieve the painting, this California Artist might be hiding in the back of S’s car.























