Okay! Here's the first ripe progeny of Little Alice. Barely an inch high, and fleetingly delicious. Oh, God! I've eaten my young, adopted though they (it) may be.
Maria is right, a second gouache palette is entirely necessary. I've quite forgotten how much I, too, hate those little dried gouache turds rolling around in the palette. Maybe it will all be more enjoyable if it remains moist. This is sounding more and more like a gastrointestinal treatise on the excremental qualities of gouache paint. Maybe I should use it to paint little poo-poos. In gouache, of course.
On another note, the big guy and I washed, polished and clothed (in a lovely new cover) my boat. Put it away for the winter, which came orthopedically early this year. He claimed that I take better care of the boat then him. Not entirely true, though I cant say I remember polishing him.