Got brave. Forgot the beret.

My brand new painting is gracing my laundry room. I’m not saying “my” because I bought it. I say “my” because the artist is moi. Take that, Mary Ann. For the uninitiated among you, Mary Ann was my third-grade nemesis in art class and one of the reasons I’ll never understand the term “art therapy”….

Candidkay gets brave in a beret

Not too much scares me. And what does scare me I, I’m sure, also scares many of you. The thought of losing my home. A medical test gone bad. Root canals. But each of us has our own quirky sense of the terrifying. Say, for instance, the photo of Shel Silverstein on the back of…