Raccoon food delivery season

It is spring, the time of year when our animal brains start trying to convince us that we're actually excellent gardeners, despite all evidence. The last 5 generations of my family were dirt farmers in the Arizona desert, but whichever ancestor keeps telling me to get busy plowing kippers into the soil did not get the memo. I'll throw some dirt on my flower beds, buy some potted plants, and hopefully that'll be enough. 

And it’s also the season for fixing, throwing shit out, and getting things to where they should be. I’ve been buying light. A wide desk light for my kid, so he can assemble his models without hunching and squinting under a small single bulb. A task lamp for the dining room, so I can paint in my sketchbook after the sun goes down, or when I’m up at 5am. A professional light with a soft box for the basement studio, to get back to work on still-life painting.

Last night it was dark by the time I was done with my workout and showered, and I had a happy moment when I remembered that I could still paint under my new light. I got my stuff and went into the dining room - only to find the man sitting at the table under my lamp, practicing tattooing sheets of fake skin. He was so happy. Damn. I went downstairs to clean up the studio, instead. 

The studio has been taken over by pottery and spiders. I threw out garbage bags of cheap warped canvas board and broken frames, piled up bad paintings to sand down and repurpose, and apologized to all the crab spiders while I twirled giant cobwebs on a broom like cotton candy. This is going to be the year I finally get a ceiling installed, to stop ancient dirt from sifting down onto my wet paint every time someone walks overhead. The whole room gets covered with a layer of brown grime. I am going to FIX THIS.

Besides the spring itchiness, I’ve been figuring out how to send a hot Easter dinner to my college kid, who will be alone and working on the holiday. We tested out Grubhub, and the very first order was either delivered to the wrong room, eaten by the driver, or lost in the snow. I like to think that somewhere out there, a raccoon enjoyed a hot calzone. The second attempt arrived without a food thief swooping in and grabbing it up, so we are go to launch an Easter brisket and pie delivery in 7 days. I felt like a tech wizard.

And then my phone started dinging with requests to rate the delivery, rate the food, rate the app, and I felt like a victim of the Circle. 

My paintings haven’t been coming out great (no time alone) and I skipped my project reel last week, but I’ll get on it today - even though I am horrified by finding my paintings and drawings from 8 years ago and seeing what garbage they were. I would apologize now for embarrassing Future Me, but I think instead I’ll accept a “thank you” from her for being the one who has to paint my way through years of bad paintings so she can paint better ones. Cringe all you want, old lady, I’m doing it anyway.

11

My lucky baby turned 11 yesterday. She made it all the way through 10 with no accidents or trips to the ER! 

This was the year she lost her heart to Scotland. She says she felt it the first morning she was there, walking outside into the cold July morning and smelling home. This was the year she started the swim team, learned to sew (the basics), and won $15,000 for her school with a kids’ business plan presentation. It was also the first time she got overconfident with her grades and started slacking off, then realized how far behind she had gotten and hid the evidence, becoming more and more miserable in the mornings when we checked her (falsified) homework planner, until we got a text from her teacher and had to spend a month making a catch-up plan with her - this was an important lesson. She did all the work, felt so relieved, and got a class award for kicking her butt into high gear and fixing the problem instead of giving up.

It was a good year.

For her birthday, she wanted to invite friends over for a tea party. I used to hang out with people and host kid parties all the time, but ever since things went to shit with our friend group on Maui I just… stopped. I don’t want to make friends while at work, don’t want to get to know the neighbors, and the kids live far enough away from their school friends that nobody can casually come over to hang out, so our house has become a private space. It was good to break out of routine and get some people in the house.

We planned and prepped and cleaned all week. The kids got hold of the embossing label maker I bought to organize my sketchbooks, and Zenny labeled the goody bags and cupcake boxes, while Leif stuck “PROP FOOD”, “DO NOT EAT”, and “MAY CAUSE CANCER” labels on all the candy in Gavin’s Easter care package. Analog technology for the win.

Tweens are fun, because they’re old enough to handle things like good china and label makers, but still kid enough to chase each other through the house with a foam cosplay ax. I made cupcakes from scratch, topped with gold chocolate coins and little toy cats, and set the table with appetizers, fancy cookies, and decaf chocolate tea with cream and sugar. We had craft kits and activities, and for 4 hours the girls ate and played and laughed, carrying the cats and chickens around like babies. It went off without a hitch. 

After waving goodbye to the girls, we drove to Kaneohe and had dinner, cake, and presents with grannie. She had a mishap with her pan sizes and accidentally made an ENORMOUS rainbow cake. It weighed about 10 pounds. She cringed when she showed me, but it was great. Nobody is ever going to be mad about having a massive homemade cake put down in front of them.

(That’s not a phone, it’s an MP3 player. No phone for her yet.)

It was all pretty great. I hope the next year is even better for her.

nice while it lasted

Every day at home felt like summer break as a kid. I woke up early, stretched out alone in my comfortable bed, and got excited when I remembered that I had an entire day ahead of me to do whatever I wanted. I planned a big painting and worked on it for 3 days, baked cupcakes and scones and bread for my kids (hygienically), read books with my cat, took hot showers in the middle of the day, and watched shows about people with big hair in historic gowns. It was so great, except for sneezing out all my brain cells. I don't need brain cells to be a painter anyway, I can just be happy and enjoy my life. Some day.

But now the bedding is washed, the bedroom is sanitized, the test came up negative, and it is back to work with my doctor's note, where I get to be snarked at by assholes for wearing a mask for the next 10 days (state policy; at least I don't have to smile at anyone). I have a pile of emails to sort through, programs to plan, articles to write, orders to budget, displays and brochures to make - but with interruptions every 30 seconds because I'm also the front desk person who does all the circulation and phone calls. Bonus: I get to train for my co-worker's job this week, because she's leaving, too. Now I get to do three jobs badly instead of one job well. That is the government for you. Also, I kicked this all off by breaking my nose on the washing machine when the fitted sheet got stuck on the open lid and slammed it down onto my face as I stuffed the bedding into the washer. Appreciating the mask today.

Two more months before my immunity wears off and the story time kids cough me back into covid vacation mode.

(jk, I'll get a booster. I really can't keep getting this thing. Especially not with shingles as a side effect. FINGERS CROSSED.)

swimming, driving, and a running nose

After 6 years of closures, our little Parks Department swimming pool has finally started up the junior swim team again. Yesterday Zenny had her first practice, and hit the water like a pelican. If you think pelicans are not natural swimmers, you are correct. She had lessons as a little kid, but it's been a while, and we don't go to the beach as much as other families. I sat on the bleachers with the sports moms and tried to look busy on my phone so the girl wouldn't feel self-conscious. She wanted me there, but not watching, which I understand. By the end of the hour, with some one-on-one with her coach, she was doing a lot better. She's a tiny person, once she gets some muscles on those limbs she'll be as quick as a minnow.

And my baby boy is driving. Enthusiastically, which is weird for me. When I was a teenager, my mother had to threaten not to send me to college if I didn’t get my license, and I threatened to go live in the woods and be the weird lady who rides a horse everywhere. She won. I am still annoyed about it. But Leif likes the freedom a car will give him in this cursed non-walkable society, and he’s pretty competent behind the wheel, so that’s working out well so far.

My painting this week isn’t going great. I’ll get a bit more time to fix it, though, because I caught the cold that’s been going around, and I’m keeping my puffy red nose home tomorrow. Need to be rested and in quacking shape by storytime. 

Update: yeah, it’s covid. AGAIN. I’m going to have no brain cells left. Maybe this time I’ll get the kind of brain damage that makes me interested in sales and marketing so I can quit my damn public service job and make a living painting, instead.