Where, oh where, are you tonight?
Things have been so crazy, that I declared tonight officially Off Limits and sternly made myself not do anything even remotely resembling chores. I scheduled no appointments after work (I have 1-2 obligations, per night, every other day after work this week). I did not care if the lawn needs mowing - it can wait a day.
Tonight was Me Night.
I took a 90-minute nap immediately when I got home. I've had some art brewing in me for a while that's been needing to get out. (I hear a little Beano helps with that.) Something expressive. One of those days (Weeks? Months?) where there are so many appointments, so many details to chase, so much crap to clean up, work to do....that you start to lose touch with who you are besides "caretaker".
These are the days when I am happy not being materialistic. More stuff means more stuff to take care of. Time eaters. Things that need setup, cleaning, refilling, restocking, accessories bought for them, service plans, licenses, payments, account problems to bird dog, turning on or off, etc. I do not want a clock on every appliance I own. Then I have to reset them all.
Anyway, I declared a moratorium on 'stuff', and carved out some time to say "hi" to myself.
I stopped worrying a while back about the end product. If I paint, if I write, if I draw, if I sew: good. I don't particularly care if any of it ends up in a museum or in print. If I wanted realism, I'd be a photographer. Art is about interpretation. Impressions. Feelings. It's not a technical manual. I just need to get the color out. The brushstrokes. The words. The texture. The process is what matters, not the finished product. If I worried about perfection, I'd never get anything done. Hell, I'd never leave the HOUSE.
The fun thing about being a prolific, if not especially talented, artist is that it banks you a joke for the future. Someday, when Taylor has children and I am in a nursing home happily addled and lost in my memories, she and my grandkids will sit around agonizing over who gets stuck with Grandma Ellie's big pile of bad art. Nobody will want to throw it away because it's handmade, original, and passed down. But nobody will actually want to hang it in their house, either. Ha.
It is a true sign of Mom Evil to plan to be a pain in the ass to your children 50 years in the future. That's real talent, people.
Ross and Carter get wild on the 4th of July. (Like my new carpet?)
Where I grew up. :)
Ross' new assigment, and the view from his office.
Dad and Taylor in the engine room
Me too!
In the bridge
Point Wilson lighthouse - we will be camping there next month and helping to restore it with some other Coasties
