Let me make one thing more clear than a blue sky on a cloudless day: When it comes to her art business, my artist wife does the heavy lifting. 

We agreed early on, shortly after she left university, that if she was going to take a run at being a successful artist, it would have to be her making the run, not me. 

Nearly 15 years later, I still cling to that agreement. 

You see, I have a gross distaste for both running and heavy lifting. Carrying around art, tables, tents for outdoor shows, and grid wall to display the art on was not going to be my forte.

Grunt work? Nah. 

Call me, maybe? Try never. 

As I recall, the conversation went something like this:

“What do you think? Should I try to make a run at selling my art?” she asked while sitting in the bedroom of our four-storey walk-up apartment long before kids were even a glimmer. 

“Yup, go for it,” I replied in my ever-supportive way while trying to figure out T9 texting on my Motorola flip phone.

“Thanks,” she replied, “I know I’ll be successful.”

See! Couldn’t have been more clear. No heavy lifting for me. (Never did get the hang of T9 texting either.)

Fast forward 15 years and, of course, I’ve helped with my fair share of her art shows, but heavy lifting and running have not been my M.O.

Instead, I’ve helped by keeping our two mostly wonderful children — not fully wonderful because they read these stories and I have to keep them on their toes — out of her hair.

And thank goodness for that clear-blue-sky agreement because, my goodness, did she purchase the heaviest grid wall ever to hold her paintings during art shows. 

I mean, the weight of these grid wall pieces would put Olympic champion weightlifters to the test.

I ain’t carrying that.

So, yeah, when it comes to her art business, she does the heavy lifting.

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