For an artist, a bad mood can morph into a fair painting. I have been in a snit for a couple of days. Things have not gone my way and like a moody kid, I’ve wanted to crawl in the bed and pull the covers over my head. For a little while I’ve enjoyed my own pity party and wondered why nobody brought me presents. After a while it occurred to me things could have been much worse. In fact the things bothering me were largely in my head. I let problems grow much larger than they should have, and fertilized that garden of doubt with organic thoughts. Then I remembered a couple of years ago when I broke my arm in two places. Determined to paint anyway, I did a series called “The Broken Wing Series,” and I think some pretty neat work evolved. Maybe like me you have a tendency to make mountains out of molehills. If you tend to get down in the dumps and stay there, I recommend you find a quiet spot and start counting your blessings. Life’s not always a bed of roses, but there’s generally a bright spot to be found, if you look for it. And almost always a friend who cares. For that I am most grateful.