This is Ian's contribution to home decor.
I moved here thinking I would have to stand my ground and confront a unique form of opposition (read-???) when before my eyes my foes (read-!!!) took flight. What the? I will never makes friends this way. Well... that's no way to behave. Courage folks. Courage. Where is your courage you lily-livered petunias? Is it something I said? Am I too audacious? Likely.
Oh, wait... you have no idea what I am talking about do you? No. Well, that's likely for the best. Trust me. I am not talking birds and I am not talking airplanes. I am talking about people. People who baffle me with their inherent lack of faith in the great motivator called water. Under. The. Bridge.
Peace. She's a ghostly femme with sheepish ways. Peace? What is it? Where is it? Under a rock somewhere near a hockey rink? All melted down into a pool of luke-warm piss?
I am a scary five-foot blonde with an attitude. I am a big-mouthed philandering nymphomaniac who steals husbands and eats them for a midnight snack. I am to be feared. Loathed. Despised and denied. Cover your eyes less I turn you to stone. Medusa is in my blood-line. My pheromones are laced with crack cocaine and apple pie. If he's not committed I don't want him. Yeah. Oh f-ing yeah.
And all fall weak around me. One gaze into my blue eyes and you are a goner. Gone. For good. For good? Let's hope so.
So outside of the rooms inside my head and the rumors about town (of which there are plenty) this is what's new:
I've been sketching again. Ian bought me a super nice coil-bound sketch book yesterday and I felt like a kid in a candy store. Or a kid in an art supply store. We all have our addictions to libido enhancing material possessions don't we? I need a new set of pencils though. That grey scale is hard to capture with a basic HB.
I am in such a mood. Have you checked the calendar? I have. Eight days til the bleeding begins. I talk about my menstruation cycle a lot because it effects me more than I wish it did. I should go on birth-control but I am always hoping Ian's sperm will somehow grow a pair and figure out a way around that whole vasectomy thing. Bite through the tube you little bastard!
Yes, yes... how macabre. Ian went under the knife years ago. We both figured that would be a better idea what having more children that we felt we could properly raise. And I already had two c-sections. It was only fair. Basic math. Now? As I get older I think... what am I if not a mother? Is my mid-life crisis just around the corner? Cuz I gotta tell ya, it's not exactly been all calmness and tropical breezes for me so far. I can't handle a crisis right now. Or ever. EVER. I actually do not want more babies. I am just kidding about wanting more babies. Please--no more babies.
But life is good. In fact, it's really good. Ian caught fresh trout tonight and we are just now about to eat them fried in butter and his super-secret spice mixture with a side of jasmine rice and peas. Add just enough soy sauce and we've got a party. I can't wait. I am hungry. And I ate. And it was good.
Fireflies are out in full force tonight. My nephew is graduating this coming week. I cried a little about that today. I get emotional at graduations so I am not going. I am going to admire his progress from afar. That's the best I can do. That and a gift of cash, of course. Cash helps. I got a tent from my mom when I graduated high school and I took it to mean "get the heck out of my house."
So I did. Eventually.
Painting? Yes now. Well here is a glimpse of my latest. I work on it a little at a time. About ten minutes every several hours. Summertime is a hard time to focus for obvious reasons. Not that we've had the best weather in the world, but still.
Have you ever raised a female child? Well, I am in the middle of it right now. Girls are so different from boys. My son and I rarely experience a ripple on the pond of our relationship. My daughter? Well! She notices everything, questions everything, hates the government, has the energy of I don't know what and the stamina to match it. As for me? Lately I feel a little like a washed up rag trying to stay useful just long enough to get through the day. She really wears me out. Really.
But I love her. So I am sure it'll all even out when she is in her early thirties. I've noticed that's the age when we ladies reign in the madness if we can manage it at all. And I am managing as best I can which I'll admit--isn't earth shattering or anything.
Ok. Over and out.