Juxtaposition Pizza

I love the word.  I love the concept.  I love stumbling across it, and finding myself silently saying, "hmmmmmmm..."

Yesterday I was thrilled to come across a delightful scene rocking juxtaposition...and it made me ever so happy.


So, here ya go, panning left to right:

- a group of folks (men, women, and children) dressed in prairie time-ish garb, singing Christian hymns, and handing out literature.

- a guy with a mohawk selling a 20" Redline bicycle so he could afford to move on to the next town.  If that bike would've fit in my luggage I so would've set him up with some traveling cash.

- a fella selling silk screened shirts with a design of his own on them.  He made a big point of telling me how great the city was for homeless people and how many services there were available.  And then he told me he wanted to leave town.

- a group of people drumming and dancing.

- a bunch of families picnicking.

- a guy on a bicycle with a fake chicken on it.

- a lady holding a dog with sunglasses.

- a man going back and forth hitting, opening, closing, moving, adjusting a row of newspaper vending machines over and over.  And then hitting them all with his jacket.  And then he'd start the sequence all over again.  In hindsight I wish I'd hooked him up with the fella who knew about the services for homeless people.


It was a juxtaposition pizza...filled with slices and bits and pieces of life from all sorts, all amazing in their own way.

I loved it!

This painting/gift card available for purchase here:  Bubbly Flower

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Dog Whisperer

Dave and I were finally able to leave town...by ourselves...first time in nineteen years.  We left early in the morning, rolled our bags out the front door, locked the house, and drove away.


Fifteen minutes later...

Text from my little guy:  "Scout won't stop howling what should I do"

Me:  So sorry!  I dunno.  Let scout sleep with you or you sleep on her bed or try raw hide.  She misses us already.  I love you so much!!!"

Little guy:  "She stopped howling but now she started doing this annoying like slow bark thing"

Me:  "Sorry.  Might as well get up, eh?"  (It was 5:00 AM)

Little guy:  "No I feel dead"

Me:  "Sleep through her noise."

Little guy:  "I can't she's really loud"

Me:  ":-(  Give her a can of tuna fish."

Little guy:  "That worked!"


Yup, I'm slow to get there but I'm a dog whisperer from many states away.

And now at my house "tuna" is the new "squirrel".

This painting/bookmark is available for purchase at:  Feeling Squirrely

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Gas on the Plane

I had the occasion to fly recently.  Super early wake up for a super early security process for a super early flight...that was delayed one hour and fifteen minutes.

And then I was super sleepy as was pretty much everyone else on the plane.  And many of them were actually sleeping.  Mouths agape, head lolled in a way that I just knew they'd wake up in pain, and I was filled with sleepy dreams envy!

Now, not that I didn't try to go to sleep myself.  I did.  "Try," that is...not "go".  I snuggled with my sweater, I adjusted my head and body just so, I pretended I was floating on clouds (not a stretch), and then anxiety hit.  Not the anxiety about safety and what not.  Nope.  The anxiety about gas.  Yes, putting it out there publically...I'm fart-phobic.

You see, I've been told that on occasion I cut the cheese, step on a frog, pass a bit of gas, when I'm sleeping.  Now, honestly, I could give a hoot when I'm at home amongst those I love and adore, but the last thing I want to see is the awkward "You are nasty!" look from the fella in the seat beside me when I wake up.

Yup, this girl stayed awake...with her eyes shut.

This painting/gift card available for purchase at:  Psychedelic Butterfly

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My Inner Hillbilly

I'm totally used to a painting mess.  My computer is pretty much always splattered with paint, I constantly have dirty finger nails, but having my person covered in paint is something I have rarely experienced...until lately, that is.  Dave and I have launched into refinishing our 1950s kitchen cabinets.  LOTS of sanding, LOTS of painting.

And I'm messy by nature when I'm doing art.

And I'm a little on the lazy side.

You see, the little guy and I needed to go get some stuff at the grocery store.  Did I take a shower to get all the paint off of my hands, arms and legs?  No.  Did I even bother to change out of my super faded pink shorty overalls that are held together with safety pins, a hope, and a prayer?  No way.  Did I even take my hair out of the uber messy, lop-sided, bun-like thing that teetered around on the back of my head?  Absolutely not.

The kid (totally unfazed by my look) and I headed to the door and told Dave, "See ya later."

Cue Dave impersonating "Banjo Duel" a la "Deliverance."


I caught my reflection in the window of my car...yeah, I suppose I had that coming...and then we went shopping.

This painting available for purchase at:  Floating Flowers

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Leaving the Nest

My big guy leaves town tomorrow...in a big way.  It's a funny thing to realize that I've never been away from him for more than just a couple of days and he's never been more than three or so hours away.  And tomorrow I'll be dropping him off to fly about five states away.  Alone!  It's OK, I suppose, he is eighteen after all.  I've been just a little freaked out emotional today...I'm sure my family didn't notice a thing. 

Anyway, I had to check in with the big guy on the night before his big voyage.


Me:  "Are you ready?"

Big guy:  "No."

Me:  "I'm gonna miss you."

Big guy:  "Uh, OK."

Me:  Just sitting there looking at him with my big blinking eyes.

Big guy:  "I'm gonna miss you, too.  Now can you leave my room?"


Sigh...he's gonna miss me, too...and, yay, he'll be back in a week.

This painting is available for purchase at:   Fall Tree with Tweets

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Full Disclosure

Kids are funny.  I mean, really, they do say the darndest things.  For the past week Dave and I have been renovating our kitchen.  We called in the pros for just a bit of the work, but since the counter tops were installed, it's been all us.  Latest thing we launched into was giving the cabinets a facelift.  All the handles were removed as were all the latching mechanisms.  So...all the cupboards that we haven't tackled yet have doors agape.


Our kids:  "Hey, we can't get these to stay closed!"


Uh, yeah, this from the children who have never, ever, displayed any evidence that they knew that cupboards were even designed to be closed....


P.S.  We're installing hinges that only require the suggestion of closing to go ahead and do it.  Even my big monkeys could do it!

This painting is available for purchase at:  Mischievous Monkey

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I'm Making Dorky Cool

I've been reunited...with my bike!  And I'm so, so, so happy!

You see, I live at the top of a hill and pretty much everywhere I need to go on my bike (aside from work) requires that I ride down a fairly steep hill.  My bike, which is a fairly old cruiser with no bells and whistles.  It's stripped down, no reflectors, no gears, no kickstand, only rear brakes...and that is all.  And I LOVE IT!  Well, I loved it until a couple of years ago, that is.  Somehow the awareness of my mortality kicked up a notch, just as it has been doing bit by bit since I hit my thirties.  Anyway, blazing down those steep hills with only a rear brake that worked-ish was getting to me.  I found myself making plans for if/when the cable snapped or some other such failure thing occurred.  My plan?  Well, do the Flinstone's version of braking of course.  Yup, I'd be draggin' my feet, and hopin' and prayin' I'd come to a stop before I hit the busy street.  My other plan?  Slam into the curb at my right and flip over my bike and land in the rocky/thistley terrain.

So I worked with that plan for a while and then I came to the conclusion that, hey, I could resolve this whole issue if I just took my bike to a shop and got a front break.  Tah-da!  Problem solved, right?  I loaded my bike in Dave's car and headed to the bike shop.


Me:  "I want to get a front brake put on my bike because I have to go down steep hills a lot and I feel nervous about depending on just my back brake."

Bike service guy:  "You don't want to do that to this bike.  It won't look cool."

Me:  "Oh."


And I left the shop.  And I stopped riding my bike...completely...except for riding to work as no hills are involved.  And my heart was a little broken.


Two years later.  Yesterday I found myself gazing at my bike and longing to go on the long rides we used to love sharing with each other.  Need I remind you that I'm pretty much in love with my bike?  So, my big guy was willing to take me and my bike in his car to the bike shop...a different one.


Me:  "I want to get a front brake put on my bike because I have to go down steep hills a lot and I feel nervous about depending on just my back brake.  I know it won't look cool, but I just want to feel safe."

Bike service guy:  "Oh, sure.  It's a great old bike.  Let me show you what we have."

Me:  "Oh, yay!"


And just a few hours later I got a call that my bike was ready.  Dave and I went to get it...and my bike, she looked lovely, amazing, and decidedly cool.

And this morning I got up bright and early and my bike and I went for one of our long and day dreamy rides.  Bliss!


This is what I looked like when I was riding my bike...only my eyes were open...and I was wearing a helmet...and all my crazy hair was tied back...and there were only flowers on the ground.  OK, maybe this is just how I felt when I was riding my bike.

This painting is available for purchase at:  Blissed Out Hippie Chick

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Two Years of Whimsy!

I missed it...again!

I'm simply no good at remembering momentous dates.  My own wedding anniversary, birthdays (without facebook I'd be lost), and now my second anniversary of creating something artistic, to completion, each and ever day without exception.  The anniversary was actually earlier this month....

Creating art each day for two amazing years has added such wonder, passion, love, and whimsy to my world.  My drawing and painting takes me to the most fantastic places and lets me meet the most magical creatures.

Thank you for coming along on this journey of mine!!

This one isn't for sale...it's an idea prompt thingie I created.

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Quitting Day

Today's the day.  Gonna give up a nasty habit.  Mind you, the kids rather enjoy this habit of mine and are not at all on team "Help Mom Quit" as they keep diving into my stash.  Dave is just annoyed by the entire thing.  So, pretty much I'm on my own...again.  Yes, again.  I've quit many, many times before...and not that I don't have faith in my quitting ability, but I'm quite sure I will have to quit again someday. 

You see, today is the day that I'm quitting my gum chewing habit.  Every year or so I seem to take it up again...starting slowly with a pack purchased here and there...and then eventually I find myself buying the BIG pack at Costco.  Well, I've known for some time that the end was near, just felt it in my gut, and had a plan to quit after my last pack was finished.  And right now I'm actually chewing my last piece of gum (actually I've got two pieces jammed in my mouth...the better to make bubbles with, my dear).

So, if you see me out and about, and I've got a longing look in my eye, a sad forlorn pout on my non-chewing mouth, just come over and gently tap me on my back and let me know it'll all be just fine.

It always has been...

...until next year, that is.

This painting is available for purchase at:  Wee Little Owl and his Pop

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Feeling Fruity

I go a little nuts, a little crazy, a little paranoid from time to time, it's true.  But only a little...you know, that "healthy" amount.  And it's about organic fruit, so how bad can it be?

Anyway, I've come to the conclusion that there's a conspiracy afoot.  Perhaps hidden cameras in my home.  Or, gosh, a tracker in my car.  You see, I've noticed a shocking trend.  It seems every time I go to Costco and spend a ridiculous amount of money on fresh fruit, teenagers from far and near call my kid to set up an overnight.  My theory?  They're on to the recent purchase...they know there's ready-to-eat-already-washed fruit in our fridge.

Now, as a rule we always say "yes" to sleep overs.  But then I'd go into "protect the fruit" mode.  And as these teenagers are all boys, and all boys seem to lack the ability to look behind anything in the fridge, I'd just do things like stick the bowl of lovely strawberries behind the bag of dried figs...tuck the blueberries behind the bag of bagels...stick the raspberries in the drawer under the bag of bell peppers.  Wallah!  Yo, no fruit in da fridge!

Course the family convinced me that I'd crossed over into the world of being totally fruit loops, so now I set up a small edible batch of fruit, front and center, that I'm willing to sacrifice to the world of teenage boys.

Yeah, I'm a giver.

This painting is available for purchase at:  Feeling Fruity

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Water Play

I got to sit and watch four teenage boys (two of them my own) play in a pool this afternoon.  It's like they're aliens to me or something as the way they "play" is so very different than how I played as a young girl.


Me as a kid:

- under water tea parties
- handstands
- cannonballs
- diving for quarters
- the occasional reluctant game of chicken


Them today:

- throwing each other
- wrestling
- breath holding contests
- racing across the pool
- crazy dive contests
- shooting each other with water guns


Me:  "Why don't you guys have an under water tea party?"

Them:  "OK."


...and they did!  Way to class up water play, boys!

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Um...I said, "boot"!

Finally took my boots in to be repaired.  Two things had to happen to get me to the point where I was willing to do it.

1. The cold season had to be officially over.

2. I had to have a reason to have them fixed.

Check and check!


It's been months since I first threatened to get them repaired, but turns out I was boot-fix phobic.  I was scared, plain and simple.  What if...it cost a fortune? ...they shined them up?  I like 'em scuffy!  ...it took weeks and weeks to get it done?  What if...what if?!?!

Well, turned out it was $10 total to have both boots repaired.  They did not shine them up.  The boots were ready twenty-four hours after I dropped the off.

Phobia officially declared unwarranted!


What should I have been phobic about?  The one minute phone conversation I had with Dave about my boot repair where he kept repeating back what I was excitedly conveying by saying "boob repair".  You know, boob repair was only $10, boob repair involved restitching, you know....  And then he had to explain the joke because I never once understood him to be saying "boob" instead of "boot".  Poor guy.

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Home Improvement

What I've learned from the kitchen backsplash installation job Dave and I did today.

• I totally like to be in charge of what color goes where.

• I totally like that Dave is OK with me being in charge of that.

• I really, really, really don't like accidentally touching live electric wires.  Seriously, I've learned this same lesson at least five times in my life before...I suppose someday I'll get it.

• Dave and I can get through an entire day of doing tile work without disagreement.  Not even one!  Holla!

• In fact, Dave and I had a lot of fun!

• Cement has a way of mysteriously ending up in my right armpit?!?!  Ya...I dunno....

• While doing mosaic is more fun and whimsical, there's a certain zen to doing evenly placed tile.

• Working inside an air-conditioned home with fans blowing on me is a lot easier on the bod than working all day outside in 95˚ plus temps.

• I'm feeling like a home improvement goddess and have double dog dared Dave to do the kitchen, office, and laundry room floors next.  He said, "Yes."

Woo hoo!!  Let's do this home improvement thang!

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A Crafty Mama is a Handy Mama

At least that's what I'm hoping my family is starting to understand...what with the laundry room a constant mess due to all my "I might just make something crafty out of this...someday" thing going on.

Now this story has nothing to do with making a dent in that constant laundry room mess, but it has everything to do with the advantages of having a crafty me around.  You see, we've been redoing our kitchen after twenty years of wanting to do it.  The kitchen is now all pretty much black and stainless...and we were hurtin' for certain for some curtain.  We looked here and there and everywhere, online and in stores, for the just right window covering.  There was nothing Dave and I could agree upon.  Nothing.  So, at the conclusion of our search we pulled into a fabric store...Bliss!  We looked at every fabric bolt in the place, I kid you not, and we finally found one that met with both of our requirements.

• color (both of us)

• pleasing print on the back side (Dave)

• a bit of whimsy (me)

We bought a yard-and-a-half for $14 (on sale!), and headed straight home...where handy me ironed, pinned, and stitched two groovy panels.   Yup, I'm pretty good to have around right about now.

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A Cowgirl and a Cactus

Two things that I recently found out do not mix...and you'd think they would since they really pretty much seem to coexist, right?

Well, my goodness, the other day I was wearing flip-flops (we'll get to the cowgirl part later) and Dave and I were dragging load after load of old funky wood to the curb for bulky pick-up (AKA "South Austin Swap Meet").  It was all going just fine, in spite of the crazy number of spiders we encountered, till I managed to back into our lovely, and quite huge cactus plant.  I didn't feel anything pokey, didn't see anything pokey sticking out of my calf..."Whew," I thought, "dodged that bullet!"

And all was just fine and dandy until I put on my little black dress and black cowboy boots.  Dave and I had a "hot date" at Lowe's, you see.  And ZOW!  The top of my right boot instantly found a gajillion teeny, tiny spines. 

Did I take off my boots?  Uh, no.  Even if I didn't feel good, I looked good...or, you know, as good as I can ever manage.

Lucky for me Dave had racked up some cactus experience of his own and he pulled out his trusty roll of tape, rolled a nice big loop, and handed it to me.  Tap, tap, tap and all of my problems were solved.

...well, most of them anyway.

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The fashion industry and I simply must agree to disagree.

The fashion industry and I don't see eye to eye...or foot to foot.  Now that it's summer I keep receiving emails advertising "sandals".  Now maybe I'm weird (likely), but when I think of sandals, I'm thinking casual and practical.  You know, like those awesome ones we all had as kids, the ones with the tire tread soles, black leather, and big silver rings and buckles.  I loved them!  But when I click on the "sandals" link I've been sent it takes me to what I always thought were strappy heels...decidedly not sandals.

Thinking I'm way too old, stodgy, unfashionable, and practical to keep up.  I'm good with that.

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The skin we're in...sometimes it fits and sometimes it needs adjustment.

Yesterday morning I went to the grocery store at about 7:30 in the morning.  Me?  I was in way faded cut-offs, a dingy tank top, and flip-flops...and happily spacy and groggy.  I wandered the aisles getting this and that from the list my family had compiled.  As I rounded by the sushi section I crossed paths and locked gazes with fella wearing the sweetest little dress, cute little shoes, adorable cat-eye glasses, make-up more carefully applied than I have ever done, and what only be called a 7:00 AM shadow.  I gently shared my smile with him and he returned it with a look so heavy with sadness it broke my heart.  We both continued walking in opposite directions, our carts taking the lead.

After our encounter I realized that I don't really ever think about it, but it's so very easy for me to be a girl (yeah, I'm forty-six, but I still call myself a "girl").  I get up and that's simply who I am.  There's no effort to it...particularly for me as I'm a way low effort kind of girl.  I don't have any feelings from my depths that I need to do anything else.  So, I very much hope that that man (or woman, if that's the preferred gender name) has a life surrounded by loving and appreciative family and friends.  The mom in me wants to give him a big ol' "you are loved just as you are" hug.

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Creature Comforts

We've been having our counters redone after twenty years of wanting to do it.  It's a funny thing how you get used to having certain things when you're in your own home.  All bets are off, of course, if you're camping, but in our home we're used to certain "luxuries".  For us it's been running water in the kitchen.  Total first world problem, I know.  The water was off for a week and we all made countless trips to the gaping hole that once was our sink...countless thirsty moments...oh, and countless wishes that our dishwasher was usable, too.

We're troopers, and seriously, the problem wasn't that big, so we found our work around.  The bathroom sink became our dish washing area.  The bathtub lined with towels became our dry rack.  And drinking water?  Well, we're water snobs who got together and produced two more water snobs, so jugs of spring water it was.

The kitchen is now all back in order and everything is functioning, but I have to say I rather enjoyed our baby version of roughing it.  Makes me really appreciate stuff working.

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In the Can

I suppose a title like that, with you knowing me and all, could make you a little nervous.  But not to worry, I'm just sayin' that the commercial shoot the little guy and I did today is finished.  And we had so much fun!!  Course I can't really tell you any specifics about it as my contract states that I'd have to kill ya...OK, nothing like that.  Not really sure what would happen, only that it'd be a big "no no"...for now, anyway


Anyway, here are a few highlights:

• I thought we were just going to another call back this morning, but we had actually already been cast and showed up at the real live shoot.

• We went to the wardrobe trailer with a bunch of alternate outfits and the wardrobe person looked us up and down and told us our outfits were perfect.  Yes I did pick out both of our outfits!

• Little guy found the Craft Service table, "I don't mind this!"

• We wrapped our scene mid-day, were told we could leave, and they ran after us as we were walking to our car to tell us that the director liked us so much he wanted us to stay and be taped at the next location as well.

• Little guy found out that they were serving us Rudy's B-B-Q for lunch, "I'm enjoying this!"

• There was a brief bit of rain and someone on the set shouted, "Keep the talent dry!"  And they meant us!

• After multiple run throughs of our scene, they gave me some big shopping bag props to hold...it wasn't until I was driving home that I figured out that they were trying to control my crazy habit of TOTALLY talking with my hands.

• They doubled our pay at the end of the long eight hour day.


If we don't end up on the cutting room floor (or whatever the digital equivalent of that is), I'll be sure to tell you how to see it.

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Blame the Plumber

Because I do live with teenage boys, and I do pretty much have a twelve-year-old boy sense of humor, and we were having the gas line to our new stove worked on today...I did basically accuse the plumber of being the source of the gassy smell.  And I laughed at my joke.  And Dave was silent.  And the plumber gave me a little courtesy laugh...after all, I was getting ready to write him a check.

Yup, pretty sure I've crossed that line where you can't take me anywhere.  Even my own home.

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Teenage Wanna-Be Driver

It's a funny thing when your kid (at fourteen...WAY too early) is announcing quite frequently that he's ready to start drivers ed and feels that he is quite prepared and able to drive.  Funny strange, that is.  You see I can't help but look at a few things I've noticed lately.

Like...

• Is the inability to remember entire limbs of one's body when applying sunscreen a good indicator of future driving performance?

• Is the inability to follow through with a cleaning task (of any kind) without multiple gentle reminders nags a good indicator of future driving performance?

• Is the inability to turn in homework when it's actually been completed a good indicator of future driving performance?

• Is the inability to wake up to a blaring malfunctioning house alarm a good indicator of future driving performance?

I just dunno...I say be patient, my lovely, wonderful, and amazing kiddo, and wait till you're sixteen like the rest of us.


Now, if it's true that video game dedication and playing ability is a good indicator of future driving performance, the kid's got it made.

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Step on it!

The little guy and our seventy-five pound puppy, Hazel, were lying on the floor spooning ever so sweetly (they missed each other during our short trip out of town).  I stood and admired them for a moment or two before I raised my foot and stepped over them.  You see, they have this goofy habit of always being in the pathway.  And of course I have this habit of always needing to be right on the other side of them.  Anyway, I raised my foot, stepped over them, had my foot just about to have a clean landing on the far side of them...and of course they both moved!  And of course I stepped on both of them.  I've got mad skills in that way.


Little guy:  "Mom, you stepped on us!"

Me:  "I know...sorry.  I thought you'd both just be still."

Little guy:  "Mom, you know neither of us are good at that."


The kid's got a point.  So, did I learn a lesson about expecting them to stay still?  Likely not.  Did they learn a lesson about staying still when someone is stepping over them?  Decidedly not.

Sigh...and we all wait till the next time I step over on them.

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Good Luck Charm

Traded in my morning walking shoes for oars this morning and went rowing in my kayak first thing.  I was the only one on the lake as far as my eye could see.  Not counting all the geese, water snakes, and sunning turtles, that is.  The water was smooth as glass and I glided peacefully through the huge boulders (I only bottomed out twice, yay!), around the bend, and saw a cove on the right.  I can’t resist exploring a cove so in I went…and there was Dave, standing tall in his little fishing boat, furiously signing things at me.

1. Be quiet!!!
2. Take pictures!!!

And so I was...and did  And within seconds he had a fish on his line.

Yup, pretty dang sure this girl is a serious good luck charm.

...unless you're a fish, that is.

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The Wonder of Buzzards

I rarely see a buzzard...but, lucky me, I've had oodles of sightings lately.  Buzzards get a bad rap, but I think they're both beautiful and amazing.

One I saw was actually more of a big chicken...it flew to a pole, perched at the top, and when the tiniest little bird flew at him, apparently saying, "Hey, dude, that's my turf!" that HUGE buzzard flew right off, its tail as between its legs as best a buzzard can manage.  Have to say, as a small chick myself, this scene rather rocked in a tough little chick kind of way.

Another less-of-a-chicken buzzard was standing in the street, picking at a recently deceased squirrel.  He looked right at me and clearly let me know that I would be driving around him and his meal.  I generally like to follow directions, do drive around I did.  Course I parked so I could sit and admire this amazing fella.  Another car approached and my new scavenging friend rolled his eyes, picked up that squirrel, and took it to the nearest driveway to enjoy his meal in peace.

Buzzards...awesome!!!

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Warrants Inspection

Seems like cops are everywhere these days.  I notice this happens every year about this time.  You see, once again I've neglected to get my car inspected during the month it's actually due.  I have a pretty darn good record of getting at least thirteen (sometimes more) months out of those little stickers.  But I pay the price with paranoia.  Now, mind you, my paranoia is actually based in true fact and life experience.  I've only been pulled over twice by the police.  Once at seventeen for speeding, and once in my late thirties for an expired inspection sticker (with a car load of other people's children who delighted in telling their parents about how the cops "arrested" me).  So I know they really do look...at least when they're bored anyway. 

I'm counting on the rumored seven day grace period to get me through till tomorrow and then I plan on actually getting the inspection done early next week.  I really, really do.  And if I end up going to court for a ticket I get over the weekend, this blog will serve as my intent to do the right thing...right?  OK, you're all my witnesses.

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School's Out For Summer!

Today I bid farewell to my best year as a teacher ever!!!  Seriously...bliss, bliss, bliss!!

What that means is that I am able to spend the next two-and-a-half months going to the restroom whenever I want to, eating a snack whenever the urge strikes, waking up without the assistance of an alarm, spending time with my wonderful husband, taking long walks with my pooches, hanging out with and chauffering my kids around town, traveling a bit, visiting my parents, hosting many teenage boy parties, staying up late every once in a while, and painting...painting...painting!

Not necessarily in that order.

Woo Hoo!

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Baubles, Beads, and Bigger is Better

Not long ago we had a fund raiser for the  special education department at my school.  We collected jewelry that folks no longer loved or wore and sold it the week before Mother's Day.  Now, let me tell you a little about our customers.  They are the sweetest, cutest, most excited shoppers out there and they're all ages four to eleven.

Each day my team would set out tables with a vast assortment of jewelry all laid out, all priced between $1 and $4.  When the school bell rang we were MOBBED!  These bright-eyed kiddos looked over everything, grabbing items they were thinking about, setting aside rejects, and finally finding that simply perfect bauble for mom.  And my goodness, some of those baubles were BIG!

I always find myself wishing I could have a hidden camera planted so I could see all these lovely ladies happily wearing the ginormous pink-beaded earrings and the way-too-long feathered necklaces as their loving children gazed at them with pride in their eyes.

Ah, sweet love....

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Going topless...and I'm not liking what I'm seeing.

You know that feeling when your top's off, and all your personal stuff is out there for all to see, right?  The good, the bad, the ugly, the useless...uh, yeah, I'm not talking about me. Gee, no way.  I'm talking about our kitchen, of course.  We're having the counters replaced and currently everything in our drawers and cabinets is totally exposed.  I'm pretty sure that every cell phone anyone in our family has ever had is in our junk drawer.  The only-once-ever used fry daddy that we picked up from a neighbor's bulky pick-up (sounds a lot grosser than it was) has light shining upon it for the first time in way over a year.  The gazillion bread bags I've saved for dog poo are poofing up and out of their bounds.  The ugly green vase that's been in our cupboard for over twenty years and has never been used is now the home of some sort of dead beetle.

I suppose it's time to clear some of that junk out.

...or maybe it'll all be just fine when the new counter top is on.

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When you're done, you're done.

It's a funny thing...when you finally decide that you're officially done with something, you're simply done.  And all decisions related to that decision seem to simply fall into place.  Well, about six months ago I was sick for the first half of winter break.  It was SUCH a bummer and my pity party was lengthy.  But out of that sickness an epiphany was born.  I was done...done eating any processed foods, anything that had been cooked at all, any animal product (aside from a couple of sushi cravings).  The decision was swift, easy, and I stuck to it...for six months!  Then yesterday something happened.  I really, really, really wanted some potato and chickpea soup that my husband was making.  I mean I really wanted it.  On a serious need kind of level.  So this evening I gave up my raw food diet and resumed my vegetarian (with just a taste here and there of fish) diet.  I had a bit of lentil soup.  Oh, my gosh, warm food.  Seriously, it had been since December that I'd had warm food.  And it was heavenly.

So, after what was essentially a six month cleansing, I consider my insides thoroughly scrubbed clean.  And now I'm going to steal a bite of my kid's bean burrito while he's not looking....

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Back to it!

So my poor husband is officially a weekend mosaic widower.  I leave home way before he wakes up to go do it...and then I come home, only briefly to eat, shower, and leave to go back to those amazing little nuggets I'm working with.  Course while I'm home he's off at the gym making me a basketball widow.  Sometime soon our two ships will pass in the night.

As my favorite story book character says, "It's all good...it's groovy."


P.S. Short and sweet...this girl's gotta get back to it!

P.P.S. It's also really hard to type when the end of your pointer has little cuts all over it.

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