I like cheesecake, horses, sparkly pretties, and painting. I dislike listening to people chew, stalkers, and a bunch of other things. My favorite color is red.
|(Oh good Lord. I wish I could say that I was drunk when I posted this last evening, but I wasn't. Apparently I needed to be. EDITED 24 hours later.)|
Every time I get a humorous thought in my head it is quickly outnumbered and bullied by the proverbial "To do" list. In a war of words, humor is getting it's ass handed to it by a list that packs quite a punch.
So let me quickly mention that Fresh Paint was a huge success. I really enjoyed most of it, especially the people who kept me entertained to no end, whether it was intentional or not. (Sunday brunch + champagne and shopping = conversation I only wish I recorded) However, staying in a 10' x 10' space for entire weekend was quite challenging being the free soul that I am. I have great plans to join every animal rights movement and thus free every known creature from captivity. Except for the nasty-ass rodents that eat hundreds of dollars worth of tack and wiring in my barn each year. May you die a slow and painful death and I will watch you writhe and wither. When and if I ever catch you, bastards. OMG. So not PETA, is it?
The most interesting thing about Fresh Paint was the amount of people that came up and took pictures of me and/or my paintings without asking and then WALK away. If you really wanted some good shots you should have been there during break down when it got really windy and I was wearing a little flouncy dress. I'm happy to say that I flashed everybody in the vicinity and didn't receive a dime. Yeah. Good times. Enjoyed that tremendously.
Then Lil Sis from Cali came for a visit and of course it rained. Naturally. It's Seattle. Can't disappoint.
Luckily, us Pacific Northwesterners have a back up plan such as the Seattle Aquarium (this tiny crab photo was taken on Camano Island State Park. Outdoors. Like fresh salt water air. 4 real.)
Then the hubby and I had our 14 year reunion. With dinner. And flowers. A card. Just the two of us. Trip out like 1994.
And THEN we go camping in the wee tent trailer. I'm sure that I was not borne and bred and camp, but I make a go of it once a year. If there wasn't so much dirt and campfire smoke and better sleeping arrangements I'm sure I would TOTALLY dig it. I am all about the whole bonding family thing but being at the mercy of every morons' sleep habits wears a little on me. I swear to GAWD there was some kid/adult/drunk screaming about hotdogs at midnight. Little uncanny/werewolf-ish if you ask me.
And then I got back. To the never-ending list of To-Do's. First up Soccer. Soccer and more soccer. Soccer up the @ss. 5 x's a week soccer. I'm not sure what fragment of my body says "Soccer Mom" but certifiably, I am one. Where some Mums complain about having to drive 5 x's a week and secretly love it, me and a few of my friends really, truly abhor it. In mathematical terms, I pay approximately $4 a gallon to drive at least 10 miles daily ONE WAY. I usually complete the first draft of a painting in 8 hours. You do the math. However, since my car accident in March, I will pay whatever it takes to keep me and my little eggs (children) safe while driving my gas-guzzling eco-unfriendly SUV. Somebody's got to pull that horse trailer while driving 8 people up a ice-capped unpaved dirt road that we live on.
Gotta go. Fuckity if it isn't my new bedtime. Will proofread this tomorrow. Forgive me if it's all messed up in the meantime. (And it was. Can't save it at this point. I've already damaged your retinas.)