Is that a good thing?

I have just spent some (quality?) time online looking at art galleries.  I can't find any artists who paint like I do.  Not even close.  I do not know how I feel about this revelation.  Part of me feels kinda unique and special.  Part of me feels like a freak and somewhat stupid.  (And part of me still wishes I were on vacation, sitting on a beach.)

Here is the painting under consideration from last night.  I like it.

Some would say I am stuck in a rut.  I prefer to think of myself as thematic.  In fact, I got some lovely, unsolicited feedback on the painting I donated to the Festival of Trees.  It was the tall tree from a couple of posts ago.  Made me feel like less of a freak....

Poodle is having a birthday tomorrow.

As you can see, she is very excited.  Can hardly contain herself.  We left work early today and got home with enough light outside to play b-a-l-l (I have to spell it so she doesn't wig out).  Someone was a happy camper.  Now Momma has to drag her sorry ass off the couch and clean up the kitchen.  I really really really want to make my two pies (cranberry orange and chocolate pecan) plus a kale tart tonight so I can sleep late tomorrow morning.  I believe last Thanksgiving, in what I am embarrassed to admit was my usual state of procrastination, I didn't bake the night before and had to get up wicked early.  What a waste of a day off.  I adore the feeling of waking up, looking at the clock, and realizing I don't have to get out of bed for hours and hours.  Call me slothful, I don't care.  I don't even know if that's a word, and I don't care about that either.  I get my best sleep after I wake up.  Go figure.