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The morning is bright. Picturesque clouds dot the bright blue sky. I would rather be outside with the warmth in the air enjoying the messiness beginning from falling leaves. But it is Saturday - two errands and then to work for the day. Though I am not sure why, I still think of Saturday as a day off, yet I have worked them since I was 12 when I began helping teach ballet classes.

Just three of us today at the store and we are managing just fine. Traffic dwindles the last half hour of the day. Filling the dumpster, I just want to stay outside and let my cheeks draw heat from the sun. I promise to head in if any customers trickle in before we close.

One more stop after work. Finally, I head home, exhausted and thrilled to know Jeff has dinner waiting so I can eat and collapse. As much as I love going out to eat on a Saturday, tonight is not the night.

My timing is perfect and I feel fortunate to drive home witnessing an incredible sunset. A staccato of deep, corally pink dances across the entire sky. I watch the fluctuations for the next 15 minutes. Pulling into the garage, I am anxious to see the final sunset from my kitchen door.

I want to jump out of the car quickly, but after standing all day followed by sitting on a rock-hard chair the last hour, my muscles can barely move. If only I had the Tin Man's oil. My garage parking has not been perfected since Jeff and I switched sides this summer, and I have a tight squeeze getting out of the car with my huge work tote. Arriving at the back door, I am amazed at how quickly the last of the transformation occurred. All that is left is a swath of deep melon.

I haven't painted a sunset in quite a while, but this one definitely calls my name. Paint me. Paint me. And maybe I will.