On Spawn and showers:
The child is a teenager.  So she takes these epic showers.  We’re talking like 30 minutes- so you know there is no hot water left when she is done.  It’s sometimes questionable whether there will be any water in the county when she is done.  Imagine my frustration as the last showerer.  I’ve been noticing recently that the water pressure, by the time I get to it, is pretty pathetic.  And it’s aggravating because I figured it meant that something annoying and expensive was happening.  Anyhow I suppose it was Friday, I go to get my beloved shower.  As usual I turned on the water, pulled the little bath to shower hickey, and wait for the blessed intervention of hot water into my morning. No water.  I figured I made a mistake. Anything is possible early on a Friday morning with lower than the usual caffeine blood content.  Anyhow. So I turned off the water and tried again.  There was water down there.   There was no water up there.  I kept looking to be sure.  Down. Up.  Definitely water. Definitely not water.  I panicked.  What else could I do?  Spouseman came to the rescue.  And turned the switch I didn’t know existed that makes the water stop and go.  Up there on the shower head.  All kinds of stuff I didn’t know.  Because Spawn turned down the pressure with that shower head stuff to conserve water.  Some (like me) might suggest she take shorter showers.  But no, she turns the pressure down.  So I’m getting drip drip showers for days because she’s saving the Earth.  And I would have never known if she hadn’t completely turned it off.  There was water down there.  There wasn’t water up there.  It was a disturbing situation.  You have no idea.  I haven’t recovered yet.  I may never recover.  Until she moves out and quits screwing with the shower nozzle. 

Here’s the JT you were looking for.

And the latest experiment with acrylics.

Yes. The hand is green.  Yes, it has eyeballs.  I’ve been notified.  It is fully open to your interpretation.  But I have to say that I wasn’t thinking of aliens zapping rays. I’m still not sure if it’s done.  But I think it might be. ?

I’m a little bummed that this long weekend is over.  I had a lot more of nothing to do.

During sharing last week, a kid was talking about a baseball game.  Then he mentioned that his dad took him to the concussion stand.  I giggled.  At the time.  And I just remembered and started giggling again.  Because these people amuse me.

You just never know what is going to come out of their mouths.  I shouldn’t say that, because I have to eat with children and that’s a different issue entirely.  Anyhow, I meant that the things they say can be so entertaining. 

A 2nd grade boy, interesting child that he is, from China (I think) found a bag of well-heated dog deposit on the playground the other day.  He walked it over to his teacher and said “did you lose your animal feces?”  Disgusting, true, but the options for conversation were so different than what was produced.

Then the other day, equally disgusting, sorry, our walking talking band-aid was explaining the word “flesh” to the class. I don’t know why, don’t ask.  Well, his explanation of picking scabs and such was clearly spoken from his vast experience.  I had to smile if only in an “oh. my. god.” kind of way.

Anyhow.  I’m working on baby quilts for teacher’s twins.  This is where we are with that. Pretty darn cute?

The other one which isn’t quite so far along- missing a couple squares yet and pretty sloppy too.

And there we are. Another day disappearing in a flash.

men in pink jumpsuits
wait for falling bananas
because they are there

I really had quite the weekend.  On top of quite the week. But we’re ignoring the week.  Blah blah blah.  I was the purge queen yesterday and a little bit today.  I filled an entire trashcan, a bag for goodwill, and the fire pit with hoo hoo from the basement.  Quite a lot of it projects that have been cluttering my world for possibly a decade.  B’bye stuff.

It was pretty close to bedtime when I started a new painting and LLO wanted to join in.  Here’s hers.

Today was my last day teaching Sunday School this year. And next. And for a long damn time after that.  Because I’ve had enough of that action for a while.  This year was not fun.  And I went to church after to hear my neighbor (who is actually an obnoxious stuck up girl) sing “Hallelujah”.  She did a great job and I told her so.  But I fail to see how this song classifies as Sunday goodness in spite of its title.  But nobody asked my opinion, which is fine.  And I do really like the song anyhow.

I was a little cranky this morning.  Then I had a meeting I didn’t want to go to which turned into a conversation about art history, which was also fine since I sat there crocheting like I always do and let people drone on in their conversation I might have enjoyed in a different situation.

Then I came home and purged some more stuff.  Books I won’t read or reread and boring colors of nail polish I’ve had since I was boring.  Now the dullest color I own is the metallic red that is currently decorating my toesies.

And finally, I decided that I was finishing my painting and just screw everything else.

And when I was done it took me a good long while and an exhausting walk to bring myself back from my trip to the Milky Way.  Because THAT was fun.  (i’m calling it an artistic orgasm)

The ways that today was better than yesterday:

1. more poppies popping

2. played with paint

3. power nap

Tomorrow is another day.  I do say that often enough. It also happens to be raining.

saw somewhere that *p* makes a peace sign.  big lie.

Not my best day ever.

Tried to go to the clinic for some good drugs (since I most certainly have a lovely sinus infection yahoo), but forgot my insurance card and they wouldn’t take me.  Frustrating.  But fine because I bought a paint palette and some itty bitty paint brushes instead- a much longer lasting use of my time and money.

Put creamer in my tea.  Gross.  I do not like my Earl Grey sullied with creamer.  It looked like coffee and I have that whole short attention span thing.

Definitely the worst part was my fitting this afternoon.  I worked a very, very long time on a prom dress doing my least favorite thing, adding panels in to make it bigger, in my least favorite fabric, chiffon (which was invented by Satan himself).  She put it on and it completely fell off. Which was fine, I can take in.  Except that as I was pinning it I discovered that everything in the bodice that I had added needed to be taken out.  Two weeks ago I swear this thing couldn’t zip -had a huge gap of not zipping.  Instead apparently it just needed a little add in the skirt. A simple fix.  This was a big mistake.  Because now I gotta undo and redo and I still haven’t pinned her hem, all of which takes lots of time.  Her dance is on Saturday. 

Spawn’s dance is on Friday.  As I’m bawling my eyeses out, Spawn says to me “you could have avoided this by getting my dress done in a timely manner.”  I admit it. I flipped her the bird.  She deserved it, don’t you think?  And she will also deserve when that particular poorly chosen sentence gets reused at some future time. 

Because I’m a nice mother (and because I don’t want to look at or think about the freaking chiffon nightmare), I’m working on Spawn’s frou frou princess dress.  I believe that I have redeemed myself today.  It is gorgeous. 

I have been insanely busy and I’m tired.  I’m looking forward to Saturday when I can do absolutely nothing. Except try out my new paintbrush.

once someone has touched your life
they are a part of it forever
every starry night, every sunshiny day, every storm cloud
holds a memory
every laugh, every tear, every sigh
carries a feeling
every thought, every whisper, every word
shows what they meant to you
every song, every painting, every flower
points to the beauty of experience
no matter that they have left you
or the manner it happened
be it temporary or seemingly permanent
you always
have a piece of them within you
and they always
have a piece of you within them

sappy song to go along with it.

In other news, I played with acrylics on paper. I like. 

That’s a poem by the delightful Shel Silverstein. (from A Light in the Attic)

#wintsh 25. Read a collection of poems by one individual and write 3 poems inspired by or in the style of their work. #npm extended because I’m me.

I think I’m allergic to morning
It comes without warning
Nighttime I’m mourning
The alarm hurts my ears
Steals some of my years
A dream disappears
My covers attack me
Tentacles though fuzzy
Hold on exactly
When I get out of bed
I fall on my head
Thinking it my feet instead
You can’t make me get up
What? There’s coffee in my cup?
Sleepyhead- catch up!

where winds up over there
why whistles in the sky
when willy nilly ends up then
what will you make of that
but…
who happened to miss the memoo

I think I’ll have a yellow day
just like a daffodil
or perhaps purple is the way
to go, if you will.
Sometimes the day requires red
with its powerful refrain
or a soft pink instead
as I stroll down life’s lane.
It’s best to avoid the black
of storm clouds in the night
and brown shows a lack
of brightness to my sight.
When so many colors are around
the choice is yours to make
a color day that brings you down
or a color that makes you wake.

Interesting day.

But before I get into that, a fascinating update on the Purge.  Perhaps I should call it the Great Purge.  Or something.  In any case.  Yesterday I was up close and personal with my fire pit again.  Made the decision that perhaps I needed to back away from the fire for a day or two.  It seemed once or twice last night that something somewhat catastrophic was as likely to happen as not.  Anyhow. What succumbed to the fire purge yesterday?  Only an entire shelf full of papers that I haven’t looked at in 13 years.  I figured that was a good indication that they weren’t necessary.  So, yay. 

Today’s purge was a box of wine.  Not nearly so purposeful. I have to say I’m glad that wine doesn’t appear to give me headaches any more.  This is a good thing.  As I’m quite enamored of it lately.  And that’s all you need to know about that.

So. Interesting.  I’m trying really hard not to burn some cookies right now.  One of our classroom volunteers is graduating from college this weekend.  My job was cookies.  Tough job.  Anyhow. I mention her because she had a bit of a saga today complete with photos.  Being the sap I am, I cried when I saw her photos.  Her brother’s girlfriend or boyfriend’s sister or somebody’s something just had a baby yesterday.  The baby was due in August.  The sweet little angel weighs about a pound.  She’s about the size of somebody’s hand.  There she is. A tiny thing, red and perfect, yet so tiny.  Covered in what looks like Saran Wrap.  A tube down her throat.  I’m crying again.  Because what a miracle that she even made it this far.  I know the odds are against this little precious girl.  That the road for her is long.  The road for her parents is long.  I’m hoping for her.  That the odds don’t matter.  Her name is Neveah.  Heaven backwards. 

On the other side of the evolution spectrum.  My brother.  Who manages to just flip me off every time I talk to him.  And it’s not like I’m looking to talk to him, I’m not.  He called today and I couldn’t get out of talking to him.  I did say I had died. But nobody believed me.  Anyhow.  He pushed the two buttons that he always pushes.  The career choices button.  He said that he hopes Spawn goes into a medical career instead of a teaching career.  This plucks my second to last nerve for a lot of reasons, many of which are that I believe that children should be permitted to decide for themselves what career is best for them.  Long story on that, which I don’t care to share, but it involves a lot of chemistry and calculus and really bad grades.  Anyhow.  The second button is the “when are you going to get a real job” button.  He and my dad are going to bust if they don’t find out that I’m getting a full time job next year.  Bust away, folks.  I don’t know.  I’m in the wait and see stage of my life right now.  The universe will surely tell me when it feels like it.  And I’m ok with that.  Because I love my part-time job, and I love that I have free time now to do all kinds of stuff that I like to do.  I’m lazy. I’m poor as dirt.  Get the freak over it.  However, aside from it being non of his damn business what I’m doing next year, there is the galling fact that the hosebag is a professional student.  He’s been going to nursing school for about a decade now, is not finished, and has no freaking real job of his very own.  Dude. Your house is so glass.  And his house has been glass for a long time.  I was a stay-at-home for a while when Spawn was little (I’ve done the best I can with that most of their lives, thank you very much, because it’s important and almost feasible for us) and my dear brother was in between jobs or something. In any case, he was living on unemployment.  And this is when he chooses to start the litany of “when are you going to get a real job”.  Hello.  You’re not working.  And I am.  Just not outside my home.  I mean seriously.  Yes, of course, I should have evolved away from being pissed off by this.  It’s been a long time.  Clearly, he has the mental acuity of a gnat and the social skills of a dung beetle (oh tee hee. the dung beetle) and this isn’t going to change.  But it pisses me right off.  Five minutes with my brother and I go from zero to bitch.

But now I’m happy again.  Because I’m not driving my car with my butt.