Funny...

Apparently I am not the only one that feels this way.

more to say? not really...

Currently Listening To

Sometimes I put on an old cd like this one and it picks me up and puts me right where I need to be. Is this the groove I was mentioning before? Maybe? I have also been listening to Toad the Wet Sprocket and glenn Phillips solo stuff. I have always enjoyed their music but only recently realized just how great of a song writer/poet he is.

Currently Reading

I have been reading some of the stuff about Tall Tails and Amercan Folk Tales to my kids. They love them. We also read limericks and spent a day writing them together last week. I now have quite a display in my kitchen of limericks and illustrations to go with them. Here is an example:
There was an old lady named Butz
The whole town thought she was nuts.
She went here and there
Without underwear
And everyone saw her bald butt

On My To Do List
as well as:
Help Kids Get Schoolwork Done
Paint Toenails Purple
Sit Outside and Listen to the ciccadas
Laundry
Read to my Kids
Go to the Library
Finish Packing for Vacation

Next On My Reading List

Ahhhh! For my vacation reading I am taking two David Sedaris books and a backlog of comicbooks to read. Nothing too serious...all for pleasure! If you haven't read any of David Sedaris' stuff, you must stop what you are doing right now and go buy/checkout one of them right now. The first one I read, Naked, was extremely entertaining! I laughed sometimes until tears were coming out of my eyes. He is hysterically funny!

A Poem and Some Good News

I found out last Friday that I am going to be published. I sent an essay to Home Education Magazine and they are buying first publishing rights from me. I am getting paid for something I wrote!

I am suddenly repulsed by the artwork I am working on right now. I am thinking about abandoning the Red Thread Series all together and moving on. I'm bummed, but I'm just not feeling it right now.

I woke up feeling agitated.

I couldn't get to sleep last night. Thank God for Comedy Central.

Am I a bad Mom because my kids are getting their own breaksfast of cheese sticks and peanut butter toast right now? Seems reasonable to me. Why interfere in their self sufficiency?

I don't think it is necessary for me to be engaged with them every waking moment, but sometimes I wonder if it is okay to be here in body and not in mind.

But that's just life sometimes. Isn't it? I think so, especially when you spend all your time together pretty much.

I watched Goodfellas last night for the 25th time AT LEAST. Since I have watched it so many times and I was busy working on a drawing, I put on the Cop and the Criminal Commentary and listened to Henry Hill's reaction to the movie. It really deglamourized the lifestyle to hear the fear and emotion in his voice as he talked about his memories as the scenes played. I recommend it.

A poem:

I went to bed afraid last night
The eyes of my mind open wide
Like two white search lights in a cavern of thoughts
Heart racing...sounds echoing...breathe

I went to bed afraid last night
Clawing through dusty shrouds of memories quilted together with a purpose...
To be beautiful and to stay that way...forever
Ripping and tearing at threads
Straining to see more..to know
Yet not wanting to...too beautiful to shred

I went to bed afraid last night
Flipping through channels of thoughts
Desperate for the glowing embrace of even an infomercial at 1 A.M.
To remind me of tomorrow and the impossibility of being swallowed whole by my own mind
No mess...one gulp...without chewing

I went to bed afraid last night
Finally, when exhausted in body by a mind pleading to remember,
yet begging to forget
Sleep catches me
Like an aged gazelle I can run no more
I fall unconscious

Reassurance of morning brings comfort
In the way old men walk their dogs and drink their coffee in the park
In the way sounds of traffic below my window increase as men and women head to work
In the way that my children wake giggling
In the way that my toes tingle as they make their way across a fuzzy, lint dusted carpet and my body begins to busy itself routinely
In the pattern and design of a new day.


Thought: There is a groove. I just need to get into it!

Stupid Blog

I wish to holy hell that all I could do is just sit and blog and read blogs all day!!! I have so much to do and someone somewhere is always talking to me, needing something from me, or expecting something of me, or breathing in my space, or farting in my space, or thinking about what they are going to need from me next. Jesus H. Christ everybody, can't we all just RELAX and do nothing for a little while?
Okay, I'm done for now. I have another two weeks of this shit so I am sure there will be more venting, bitching, moaning and complaining. Usually I try to sit and look at it. Not today, I wanted to see what this would feel like for awhile. Trouble is, it only feels good if you know someone is listening...stupid blog.

I Sang It My Way...

The following are a list of song lyrics that I sing wrong to this day thanks to my own neural misfirings or the influence of others who's messups are more fun to sing than the actual lyrics. Feel free to add your own "rearrangements." Sing it LOUD AND PROUD SO OTHERS CAN HEAR YOU!

"I'm gonna dress you up in nylons..."
"I'm gonna dress you up in my love..."
-Madonna Dress You Up In My Love

"Like the whippoorwill and the broken toe..."
"Like the whippoorwill and the croaking toad..."
-Jim Croce I've Got A Name

"Help the skeleton..."
"Helter Skelter..."
-The Beatles Helter Skelter

"Dirty jeans and a gumball machine..."
"Dirty deeds, done dirt cheap..."
-AC/DC Dirty Deeds (I was a little kid, what can I say?)

"I'm hooked on a feeling, I'm tired of believing, that you're in love with me..."
"I'm hooked on a feeling, I'm high on believing, that you're in love with me..."
-Blue Suede Hooked On A Feeling

"Return December, Address Unknown..."
"Return to sender, Address unknown..."
-Elvis Presley Return To Sender

...and my very favorite....

"I did it sideways..."
"I did it my way..."
-Frank Sinatra My Way

Have You Pet A Poodle Lately?

If so...wash your hands!

When I was a little girl, my Mom had a name for genitalia that she would use to avoid saying (whisper) penis or vagina. Her word was 'poodle'. I hated that. Anytime in my life when it was appropriate or necessary to say or hear the word poodle, as in reference to the dog breed, I would feel extremely uncomfortable and embarrassed. I tried to avoid these situations at all costs.

Don't get me wrong. I loved dogs and animals as much as any other little girl. I was overly affectionate to stray dogs and cats. Forcing my love on these poor abandoned animals has left me with more than a few scars. I would approach anybody walking a dog and ask to pet their beloved animal.

I remember once, I was with a friend. We saw a couple walking a little black dog with extremely curly hair. It was so small and cute. It's little pom pom tail wagging as we approached. We asked to pet the dog. The owner's said we could. I bent down and began to stroke his wirey mane. My friend asked, "What kind of dog is it?" "She's a poodle," they replied. WHAT? I stood up and backed away quickly as if they had told me their dog was rabid or covered in shit or something. The owners looked at me oddly, "You can pet her, she won't hurt you." I looked warily at the couple and at my friend. "Nnno thanks," I stuttered. "C'mon, we gotta go," I said to my friend.

This happened more than once. Each time, as soon as the word "poodle" left the owner's lips, I would halt all exchange of affection with their animal and back away quickly. Always following this with a glazed look into the distance, "I think my Mom is calling me."

Eventually I was able to recognize this breed of dog and avoided talking to poodle owners feeling a little judgemental about their choice of pet. It was obvious that they had to be some kind of freaks or something. Then my Mom sent me to a preschool where the owners of the preschool had two poodles! That was the worst. They would bring the poodles to school with them. All the kids would flock around them, "Oh how cute" and "come here, come here." I would stand around the perimeter red faced and wondering about the appropriateness of poodle petting at preschool. Something just didn't seem right about it. I felt so dirty.

As a result of this programming, I began to loath this breed of dog. To this day I don't like them...and for no other reason that I can blame other than my Mom's discomfort with genital terminology. That hardly seems fair. Maybe to work through this and to further open my heart to all sentient beings, I should begin a poodle rescue. I could take in all the stray and unwanted poodles. Now that would just be scandalous, wouldn't it? (wink)

The Ohio State Fair

Fair time is bittersweet. It always stands at the beginning of August with funnel cake breath and pointing its fried meat on a stick finger at me reminding me mockingly that the end of the summer is near. With that comes this manic panic trying to squeeze in as much fun as I can between now and the end of August when school starts. This programming runs deep from when I was a school child and still pervades my psyche and joins together with other pieces of programming to form this internal clock and set of "shoulds" which I sometimes rely on to run the show when I am too lazy to engage and really think for myself. Then, I remember that I homeschool and that I am no longer on a schedule that is tied to seasons. No one else decides for us when the fun ends and when it begins. These boundaries blur for us and everday holds the possibility of a "Fair Day." I just realized how lucky we are. I mean, I have known this intellectually. But, I don't always feel it. It is as if there was a tension inside that just stretched and yawned and is waving goodbye to the end of the summer, but relaxed.

We have visited the fair twice this year. We have NEVER done that. But, since my painting is there, I went once with Paul and the boys and then we went once again with my extended family. I have to tell you, THE most rewarding thing about having a painting in the fine arts exhibit at the fair was seeing the reaction of my boys. It far surpassed the wine and cheese reception that Paul and I got all gussied up for. I mean that was great and we looked good, let me tell you...no pics though. In taking my kids to go see my painting, I guess I just thought that they would look at it and kind of go "Oh, yeah, can we go ride rides now?" So when they actually celebrated that proud moment of my artwork on display with me, I nearly cried. My oldest kept touching the nameplate beside the piece and repeated, "Look MOM! IT'S YOUR NAME! IT'S YOUR NAME!" over and over. He voted for mine completely umprompted for the people's choice award. Then my youngest, who is more quiet, sat in the stroller. He is much too big for that now, but on a fair day of walking, I let him ride now and again. I wheeled him around inside the gallery and showed him pieces I thought he would like. There were watercolor paintings of animals and a few brightly colored abstract pieces I though he might like. He was not really reacting a whole lot. So I leaned down and asked him, "What kind of art do you like? Do you want to see animals, people, bright colors, what?" He looked up at me and said with such sincerety, "Mom, I like your art."

So there you have it. Not even the $1200 Best of Show award can touch that. Though it would be nice to make money at art, there is something more than that...something that has nothing to do with any recognition or money that motivates me to do it. It is a part of me just as my eyes are green and I have a dimple on my right cheek (face people on my face.) It just happens. Art happens.