The Sulking Chair

The sulking place

I can’t keep calling it “the painting”; it’s nearly done, and I’ve started a second, so this one really needs a name.

Boudoir is a historical-cum-humorous term for a woman’s bedroom or personal space. It literally means “sulking place”…one can imagine French ladies of the 1700s spending a good deal of time in their private rooms—throwing tantrums or having their little crying fits amongst the plump pillows, refusing to get dressed or come down to dinner—while the menfolk made exasperated hand gestures, and rolled their eyes.

Making a connection between the horrendously pink and black chair and a boudoir, in yesterday’s post, I think I’ve accidentally named the painting already (but I’ve toned down the chair a little, since!) “The Sulking Chair” it is.

I did my painting on the back deck yesterday, working at the massive (2.5 x 1.3 meters!) new table Kris just made to replace the dinky little round table we’ve been using till now.

Some time in the afternoon I dropped my brush and grabbed my camera to snap this little crocodile that was hovering near our boat. One of our neighbors has been dropping crab traps along these mangroves, and managed to snare a mud crab. Crocodiles love a nice, fresh mud crab!

Our neighbor pulled his traps up this morning, and there was just a pile of cracked crab shell—like broken pottery shards—in one of the traps. What could do that to a crab? He was mystified until I called him over and told him that a small salty had been hanging around all yesterday afternoon. Poor neighbor’s lost a good meal, and was pretty spooked, too, as he lays the traps at night, sometimes stepping onto the muddy banks to tie his trap to a mangrove branch. Eep!

I love crab myself, but we never have any luck catching them. We must be using the wrong bait. *looks over at Dude, laying on his back like a fat otter, in our bed* “Hey, Fatty, c’mere…



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