Are you an Artist, or is that Leprosy?

First three paintings in Carytown Series
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So now that I'm painting every day and using lots of different colors and all that, my hands are never soft and warmly golden with summer hues. They are now crusty and flecked with black, blue, and that gross color of green that I use to underpaint bricks. I mean, I wash my hands, but apparently not enough. So when I venture out of my painting cave to go to the store, people look at me funny. They avoid me. They stare at my skin out of the corner of their eyes (my eyes don't have corners by the way. They're round.) and draw their children away from my path.

Does she have leprosy? A skin eating fungus? Or is she -gasp- an artist?

Wel, I'm going to shout it out for all to hear, in hopes that the staring with stop:

"I'M AN ARTIST, AND IT'S NOT LEPROSY, IT'S PHTHALO GREEN!"

Links for this post:
Phthalo Green (bet you didn't think I knew how to spell that, didja?)
A blog entry entitled Heartless, Skin-Eating Jerks
The Poem that tells you what Wednesday's Child is, because it's Wednesday