Oh joy! Art Day! Three of us Mommas dropped our kidlets off at school, and then congregated to make art. Oh it was Grand! I would love to make this happen once a month. It felt so good to hang out with other women, eat warm muffins, and make something new.
Have I ever mentioned that my husband has mad, mad skills?
See the grey mass in the center of this photo? Can you spot the scaly tail? Oh yes, that would be a dying possum. And, of course, he has decided to expire on the path directly in front of my friend's art studio. (It is a lovely spot, really.) Now, I don't doubt that we could have moved his body, but... well... have I mentioned Big E's mighty possum moving skills? Oh yes, he has moved many a possum (both alive and deceased), and well, when you know a certified expert with professional experience, it would almost be selfish to do it yourself.
Oh, who am I kidding? Possums totally creep me out. Alive, dying, dead... Ick! Sure I could move one if I had to, like if the lives of children or the fate of the universe were involved, but short of movie of the week scenarios... I sure am glad Big E is there to pick up my vermin moving slack. Thank you, sweet man!
What is that man doing to have half the precinct come in like the cavalry?
And, hey listen to my heart go thumpty-thump.
This police floor show was sponsored by a drunk driver who decided that a DUII wasn't good enough for him. After adding an eluding charge to his karmic load, he thought about tacking on a Resist charge (they add so much to one's rep), but apparently he thought better of it. (That "toast" tone or the never ending stream of cover cars may have had something to do with this moment of enlightened thinking.)
I must admit that I hadn't been yearning for any excitement.
I'd watched the last 45 minutes of the National Spelling Bee* and was feeling the nice soft glow that comes with watching a worthy competition of skills. Of course, it was impressive to see the man in action (I don't know that the neighbors will all agree about that... ) and I did feel a certain wave of nostalgia from my days in precinct... or maybe that was the bit of nausea as the adrenaline began to fade and I waited for my "all's well" phone call.
*(I was as shocked as anyone to find that I was bewitched by the Bee. Now if only I had caved to curiosity at 8, instead of 9:30. Darn my ignorance of the alchemy of words.)
On Sunday I'm running a little fabric art workshop, and since there are only two women coming, I'm hosting it at my dining room table. We're going to be making mini quilted hangings our of art drawn by their children. And in the grand tradition of women everywhere, I am doing a clean before company comes.
Specifically, I'm tackling all those piles that just don't quite get put away. You can see the intent that built them (Oh, the ancient people who made this pile of "Papers that might be important" were going to sort them, but then something shiny drew them away.), or the theory behind the faded organization (Oh, all of these things belong in the basement.), but today is the day when recycling meets the bin and the tools actually make it into the toolbox. (Huzzah! Look at all those screwdrivers!)
You know when you think you're putting everything to rights? The end is nigh, and being "Caught Up" seems like more than just a pipe dream? And then, like a teen age boy's plate at an All You Can Eat buffet, your plate begins to refill itself. The tasks, the deeds, the To Do's grow, flower, and fruit before your eyes, and you realize there is no end, only phases and eras. And really, the only way you're going to get to the dessert bar (back to the buffet analogy) is to walk away from that in-progress plate and go for the pie.
Today was a better day, by the way.
Oh it tried to be poopy, but I grabbed it by the scruff of its pesky neck and shook it until the crappy bits realigned into a Good Day. Ha!
If I were to be positive, I would extol the virtue of having to choose carefully where one's resources were to be spent for maximum enjoyment. This would be a day of only doing the things which bring the highest repayment.
Of course that is not me, at all.
I want it all.
And I just don't have the energy to do it.
If I were introspective, I would pay homage to the fact that normally I can do all these things, and just be thankful of my normal energy and good health.
(Moment of sincere thanks.)
I am a horrible ungrateful person.
I still want it all.
Specifically, I want a lemony, strawberry, cakey-torte thing for dessert tonight.
I want to sew up this epic pile of dice bags.
I want to clean the kitchen.
I want to finish this week's laundry, before it's next week.
And bread, I was going to bake bread.
And.. and.. I just can't get it done.
My lungs are just not working right yet, and when you have to work to breath.. well.. ya.. you have to make choices.
But it there were two of me.. or even three...
I could have my dessert in a clean kitchen while I gaze out over 40 new dice bags, and still have time to play with the girls.
Alrighty, one step closer to the end of the school year.
Today we wrap up the book fair, and then it's Memorial Day Weekend. I still haven't done gotten the sewing done for my shop update, but I'm inching closer to catching up. My cough is.. um.. kind of better. (Let's not talk about this, 'kay? 'Cause then we'd be chatting about sputum colors and who wants that, right?)
Moving on.. um.. I'm still knitting away on my Amelia sweater. I added my first button hole the other day. It was my first Yarn Over ever! (For the non-knitters, suffice to say my basic repertoire has gained one new really modest skill. Like when you're a kid and you learn a new way to tie your shoes. Oh the thrills!)
Ah, you want bigger news... Sweetheart G's braces were installed on Wednesday. Her mouth is sore, but that doesn't keep her sister from being tremendously jealous. It must be a symptom of my 13 years as an only child that I do not understand this. Really? You're jealous of your sister's metal bands that are rubbing sores into her cheeks? I keep assuring her that she'll get her turn in three years, but she just whines that it's too long to wait.
One final tidbit, yesterday the girls were hanging out with Big E outside. The girls stole Big E's socks and started whacking each other with them. Big E, in the way of Dads, created a scoring mechanism for the smack-fest. Little e became frustrated that her sister was out scoring her, so my littlest monkey put sand inside her sock. She walloped her sister several times with the improvised blackjack, before Big E caught on. Despite the ingenuity she displayed in leveling out the playing field, Little e was stripped of her weapon and sent inside for a time out. Life is simply not fair when you are 6 and clever.