There just isn't enough trashy in my life.

It has come to my attention that there is nothing in my wardrobe that sparkles. Not one thing. Where can I find cheap crap with glitter and sprinkles*?

This appalling lack of trashy came to my attention on New Year's Eve, when Eva and I went to get dressed and while she was putting on a sparkly tank top, I was dejectedly pawing through my piles of cotton blends. It was a sad moment.


One thing I am happy about, though, [disclaimer here: I am so terrible at drawing a line when it comes to TMI and noonegivesashit and "that girl is so crazy (in a bad way)." I am aware of this. You should be aware that this is maybe one of those times where my inability to properly screen my subject matter is more apparent] is my colorful undergarments. I got some new ones via mail order while I was in Scotland, and I noticed this afternoon that the under layers I was wearing were (are) colored as follows: blue and white polka dot, plum-colored, bright yellow, and bright blue. And in the dirty clothes pile on the floor were (are) pink silk long johns with a matching shirt, and some more pink and blue and bright green and purple and "with stars" stuff. So maybe most of my normal clothes are boring and I have too strong an attachment to blue jeans and zip hoodies, but it's okay, because I'm like a mullet. Business in the front, yes?


I bought new chapstick (I use the term loosely in that I never buy Chapstick, only sticks of wax-based stuff to keep my lips from bleeding when it gets too dry out) tonight, and I didn't like it at all. This is at least the second time in a row that this has happened. Not cool. I gave it to Chloe. I've been using Burt's Bees for a while, but have been looking (out of boredom and curiosity more than dissatisfaction) for an alternative. I haven't been particularly successful, obviously.


We're throwing an engagement party for my cousin this weekend, and as trying to get me to cook or bake is generally a pretty painful experience for all involved (not that I can't; just that trying to get me to is a huge pain), my main job in all this is to paint the bathroom and not eat the freshly baked biscotti or cheese pennies or ham biscuits with pimento cheese, or whatever other delicious things get made this week, all from scratch. I'm sure that second part of the job, the not-eating-stuff part, will get harder as the week progresses, but at the moment I am feeling the irritation that is trying to scrape a bathroom that, for some unfathomably asinine reason, was painted ten years ago with flat paint. Except for the closet door frame, and one stretch of wall below the medicine cabinet, which were sensibly painted with semigloss. Whose idea was that? Flat paint, by the way, does not hold up to moisture. Like, at all. Don't f-ing paint your bathroom (or kitchen, for God's sake) with flat paint.


On the plus side, and on an entirely different note, we lost power the other day. I think some drunken idiot ran into a power pole or something, because a huge section of the neighborhood lost power on a fairly clear, non-windy evening. Obviously that isn't super great. It's "on the plus side" because I texted Jack to tell him the power was out and ask him if he needed a flashlight or extra blankets or anything, and then he came home with five snuggies. I have way too much stubborn pride to actually buy a snuggie, but damned if I'm going to let one go to waste. Also, as it turns out, a snuggie is (or seems to be) the perfect thing for my father, who is nearly always cold but doesn't like using blankets or adding lots of layers. Cozy light blanket with arms? It's the perfect compromise! I can't imagine why we didn't think of this before.
































*Halfway meant to type "sparkles," but had intended to type "metallic sequins" before I stopped paying attention to what I was typing. I think I'll leave sprinkles though.

**Homeless footnote: in the interest of using this like a diary and giving myself some actual record of what's going on even when I don't feel like typing/talking about it, I should admit that I have been super emo about David lately. "Super emo" is probably far too strong a phrase, but whatever. And anyway, it's hard to be so completely single when kissing is so much fun, and when there are piles of colorful awesomeness lying around. I mean really.

Thursday atthe beach. So to speak. I actually stayed in the house mostly.

Tonight I was straightening up downstairs and saw a flash outside, and realized that there was a storm out at sea. I ran upstairs to tell everyone what was going on (because lightning storms are exciting, ok??), and then, of course, picked up my camera and headed out to the beach. At first I tried taking pictures. I knew deep down that this was a huge waste of time, especially with a little and somewhat old Sony Cybershot pocket camera like mine, but I couldn't help trying. Eventually I started walking down the beach, and eventually I (mostly) gave up on the camera. I stopped 15 feet short of the pier and stood where the waves could wash up to just below my knees and studied the water and sky. I was trying to compose poems and paintings and drawings in my head. I was thinking of the "no man is an island" quote, and how it's all wrong--how we're all islands. How I'm standing here on the shore of mine, and by reading the wind and waves and sky I can tell there's a storm out there, but I can't really see it. I can't really experience it. It's like trying to read another person's mind. We can't really ever get in on what's going on--we can only read the weather and the waves and try to figure it out. I stood and watched the lightning, and the overlapping waves around my feet, and the foam, and the raw, powerful storm waves crashing against the pier for a long time. I turned to leave, and then turned back, realizing I'd never gone all the way to the pier. I went and stood next to a piling, and then saw a bolt sticking out about 2.5 or 3 feet from the ground. It was very tempting. I think I actually said aloud, "that is very tempting." And then I climbed up and sat on top of it, one of the shorter support pilings, barefoot and dirty with my skirt (ok, skort) pushed up to my hips and my legs and arms wrapped around the main pillar. (That was the only way. Those things aren't really big enough to make good seats, and they are severely lacking in comfortable foot rests.) Even just adding five or six feet to your vantage point can seem to change everything, can't it? I think I sat up there for at least 30 or 40 minutes, getting my clothes covered in mouldy, soggy old wood and watching the waves crash and run up the beach and splash under my feet. It was pretty awesome, not gonna lie.

Then on the way back I overshot the house by ten minutes, and then it started to rain. Luckily I realized that I'd overshot, and then didn't pass it a second time. That would've been pretty aggravating. But it was ok!


Earlier today, after I tried/pretended to nap for four hours or so, most of us went to paint pottery. Brian drew this super sweet cartoonish lumberjack and snowy tree and house on a mug, and outlined it all in black. I took a picture, but I took it on my camera and we all know how I feel about going to all that trouble of putting the memory card into the reader and then plugging it into the computer. Such a hassle. Maybe later.

I painted a tree and a waterfall and a Bible verse and some birds--so unlike me, I know. I guess none of you reading this (except possibly David) see much of the stuff I tend to paint, but trees and waterfalls are popular themes. Bible verses and birds are not unheard of. I was under pressure, okay? Anyway I took pictures of that on my phone, so here you go:

The other side has a waterfall on it. And another bird, that time flying. Also, obviously (?), this will look rather different after it's glazed. The tree branches will probably be showing through, for one, the blues will be far darker, and the bird might have faded into the tree. Whoops. I am crossing my fingers and hoping that "different" means "better." Anyway, the verse is "Beloved, let us love one another--for love is of God, and everyone that loveth is born of God, and knoweth God." I John, 4: 7-8. I think I'll be gifting this to the kitchen at Camp because evidently charging $16 for a mug plus $7/day for "studio time" doesn't leave enough profit margin for this pottery place to buy dishwasher- and microwave-safe glazes. Classy.















Before she went to bed, Sara's mom told me to go to bed soon, "because you want to be happy tomorrow." Today, as I believe I mentioned, I was very tired and sunburned and stayed inside. Am I not allowed to be a night person? Am I not allowed to be an introvert? Are those things not okay? She, bless her, is type A. I guess they are not ok.  Hopefully, despite having another late night, I can be 'happy' tomorrow. Aka get up and go to the beach, I suppose. And I think I'll need to be leaving tomorrow evening, which sort of stinks, but I'd really rather not be in traffic Saturday morning. Even if I hit traffic tomorrow night, I'd prefer that in hopes that my car will be less likely to overheat and pop yet another leak in the radiator hose. I guess we'll see, kiddos. I guess we'll see. Goodnight all.

Best news ever: I don't have to work tomorrow! God, I love Fridays.

Today at work I began Under the Tuscan Sun again, and realized again how wonderful it is. There is something luscious and alive about Frances Mayes' writing, subject matter, voice. It made me feel more alive after reading it. It made me remember how much I love fruit. I know it's probably difficult to see a connection there, but evidently there is one.

Today also the ice that has been building between myself and Brian (ice of which he was probably completely unaware) was broken. The cracking began, actually, when I accidentally dropped a bucket on his head. Sometimes I get defensive, and then I get obsessive, and then I become ice woman. I'm glad it's melted a bit.

Today I went to an art opening with my mom, and some of the paintings were just stunning. I hope I can paint like that, someday. I guess I'll have to get over my fear of oil paints first, though, as most of the paintings I loved were oil paintings.

On the way home tonight I watched the moon, imagining different shapes around it. Usually the crescent moon looks like a swing to me, attached by an invisible string to the star that's always near it. Tonight though it looked like a thumbnail, like a luminescent cat's nose, like a sleepy eye, like an aircraft, like a wide grin. The last made me grin back.

I realized, too, that it's the same moon that's always been there. I mean, the same one that has always, always been there. Einstein watched that same moon. Galileo, Chief Powhatan, Copernicus, and Isaac Newton watched it. Caesar, Pilate, and Jesus watched it. Mohammad watched it. Rameses. Homer. Eve. It's kind of difficult for me to grasp.


In other news, my friend Aby posted a link to this super awesome (but unfortunately, still just conceptual as far as I can tell) stove of the future.

A Fabruary Day*

Yesterday I saw dirt in our yard for the first time in weeks. Close to a month, maybe.

Today was Jack's 21st birthday, and, of course, Fat Tuesday--better known as Mardi Gras. We had a family party, and decorated the house with streamers and balloons and Mardi Gras masks, and it was pretty great. Chloe and I have been painting, I painted a card for Jack, and then worked a little on the calendar for David. Most of these aren't finished, but here are some pictures of what I've done so far.

January:

February:

March:

April:

May:

June:

And Jack's card:

Also, here is a picture of one of my cousin Holly's adorable children, Lilly:

Lilly's next older brother, Zachary:

And the oldest brother, Sparks:

*title credit to Chloe