The Service Here Sucks But the Food is Good

This week I looked at the double sun I sketched out.  Yep.  I looked at it and dreamed of blue.  That is all.  I always struggle with the "my thing" time vs family time.  If I sit and watch a show I get this niggling feeling that I should be being more productive.  It sometimes feels like everyone around me is finding success at the stay at home mom/"your thing" gig and I'm all "Have you read my blog?"  "I sold 2 suns and a pack of notecards."

Then there was the day that I was cranky and I just didn't feel like doing anything but catching up on my shows and maybe some day drinking.  Problem was, it was a Tuesday.  Day drinking on a Tuesday feels more like a problem than a way to relax.  Plus, sitting there watching Top Chef and Downton Abbey, I can't help but feel like my time was being wasted.  I bet all those other successful people aren't sitting around day drinking and watching their shows.  Okay.  I didn't day drink, because it was a Tuesday, but still, I got caught up on my shows.  Then I waited until 4:00 for a drink, like a proper housewife.  A proper, yet, cranky housewife.

“Whiskey claims to itself alone the exclusive office of sot-making.” 
― Thomas Jefferson

  

My family.  It was my family that was making me cranky.  I hate to even say that out loud.  Here is the disclaimer.  I love these people.  I would kill for them.  I would die for them.  I'd even give them my good kidney and not the bad one filled with stones.  The good one.  But, they were all on my last nerve.  My husband, God bless him, couldn't say a damn thing right.  It started when he let the teenager off the homework hook.  Not his fault really, she played us.  Actually , it started way before then, might've been just that I rolled out on the wrong side of the bed.  The little guy, he acted like he was the king and we all worked for him because he was thirsty or whatever.  I don't know, the whole lot of 'em were bugging me.  Even sweet Daisy -and it wasn't even Daisy, really, it was her dog but she brought the little pooper over.  Poop.  Everywhere.  

Dinner came around and I was still pissy.  Husband and kids were scarce, getting out of the line of sight if you will.  I had yelled, slammed, stomped and even demanded Calgon to take me away.  So dinner was quiet and awkward.  Everyone was afraid to speak.  My husband, he is very brave, he whispered.  He whispered because I was the "Don't even look at me" kind of mad.  He said, "I know your mad, but I gotta say, this gravy...rockstar.  The meat, everything...it is very good."  Well shit.  There goes pissy right out the window.  Hard to come back from stomping around like a nut but, I'll make it up to him later. (wink, wink)  So seriously, the service here sucks, but the food is good.  

Just When You Think You Got It

This week has been a mixture of "I Got this" with "What the fuck is going on here?"  Regarding the art thing, I got this.  I am re-focused on the suns.  I feel like I have found my voice on the novel.  I bought silver paint.  I hired a house cleaner.  I got myself and my children to all our appointments and stayed under budget at the grocery store.  I mean, really, if I could still do back flips I would.

Also regarding the art thing, I have a friend who loves the black and white sun.  It originally was a tattoo idea and it didn't seem right to frame it.  Then it came to me...a t-shirt!  Perfect.  I came home from the t-shirt shop excited.  Feeling all proud of myself, I waltzed into my house to a horror show.  Khaleesi had gotten into the trash.  The bathroom trash.

Khaleesi, of my son's dog, who is now my dog.  Khaleesi, of doesn't even have dragons, or a blonde.  Khaleesi, of the misnamed dogs and I feel like fool when I yell for her.  Khaleesi who is lucky she is cute.  Khaleesi, of the bathroom trash all over my house.

This was taken after she got into my daughters make up; that's liquid foundation on her face.

Just picture this for a minute, bathroom garbage from the bathroom, through the master bedroom, into the kitchen via the living room.  To make this accurate I will tell you, but I hate to, guess what time of the month it was?  Right.  I was like "Oh, fucking hell..."  She is standing their wagging her tail, like "Hey!  You know what would be fun?  If you throw one of those and then I could chase it.  That would be awesome!"  She should, at the very least, act ashamed, or be sick, but nope.  F'ing hell.

Then my daughter flipped shit because the light washed skinny jeans she wears every day were dirty and I held fast to the house rule of 'Leggings are not pants.  They must be worn with something that covers your butt'.  My youngest hollers from the bathroom, "Mom! Mom!  MOM!"  I hurry to the bathroom only to have him grab my arm and shout, "Poop arm!  I poop armed ya!"  I'm all silently to myself, "What in the Sam Hell is going here?"  I go wash like a surgeon...twice because it's time to cook dinner.

My husband came home and asked, "Are you drinking whiskey?'  I mentally counted to 10 before I quietly answered, "Are you questioning me?"  He was tempted to say yes, but he is wise and just backed away slowly.

I am currently hated by teenage daughter, cause of concern to husband and defiled.  For the record, at one point, I had it going on.  At one point I had this!

Cue the music...

        

New Year's Resolutions

Seems like every 3 months or so I get a new notebook and a great pen.  I love a new notebook and fine tipped pen.  I then proceed to re-invent myself in this notebook.  Listing out things like my goals and great quotes.  I love a great quote.

“May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness.  I hope you read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks you are wonderful, and don't forget to make some art.  And I hope, somewhere in the next year, you surprise yourself."
-No idea, I saw it on a poster on Facebook 

I also write down the things I want to try; someday I want to learn to play a fiddle...or maybe a banjo.  Places I want to go, I really want to go to that outlet mall on the way to Atlanta.  New Year's resolutions are nothing exciting for me because I do this shit all year long.  I thought, once, that maybe I should save NewYear's resolutions for the big stuff.  I tried to quit swearing.  I've tried to be a better person, you know, like a healthier one, but I like butter and cream.  I don't add "Go to Gym" because I already do that because of butter and cream.  I've said I was going to drink less alcohol, that was about as successful as the no swearing thing.

If you do make resolutions, I suggest you keep them to yourself.  Otherwise, you get that well meaning person who reminds you.  "You are having wine?  I thought you were cutting back?"  To which I answered, "The kids fought all damn day.  All.  Damn. Day.  They are not allowed to look at each other for the rest of the f'ing day.  This glass doesn't count."  2 resolutions gone in one fell swoop.  Actually 3, because I also tried to give up spitting and that conversation ended badly.  I'm not proud of it but it is unfortunately true, I'm a spitter.  At, towards or secretly as I stomp away.  My sister is one too, I think it's a gene.

Honestly, I think we should strive to be our best everyday, but also, forgive ourselves when we don't quite get there.  Sometimes our best is not great.  The other day, my best looked more like an attempt to hold the couch down with my whole body.

But sometimes, our best is glorious and we are unstoppable.  Go for the glorious.  I'm going to Google fiddle lessons in my area.