Don’t judge me

I don’t actually think you are judging me, by the way. That was just the first thing that came into my mind as I sat down to write. Just got home from a bookclub meeting — haven’t read a bookclub book in a few years, probably not since the girls were born. Not that I don’t want to, but my time to do anything like read a book is so limited, it needs to be a book that comes into my life and makes its way into my hands and brain by divine destiny. Being on a list of agreed-upon books doesn’t always cut it. You see, I am now existing on the quantum level. Coincidence chooses my books.

Luckily, the ladies in my bookclub sometimes forget about books altogether, and focus more on complaining about their jobs. They drink wine and seltzer water and eat lots of cheese. Then there is chocolate. I love bookclub. They don’t care too much about the books, mainly the company.


Now it’s Thursday night. I work five days/week in a basement. The people that are in my immediate radius are very helpful and pleasant. Most are very smart, esp. my co-workers. The room houses many, many employees. Lunchtime is when I arise from the darkness. Tomorrow is supposed to be warm and sunny. Hello spring.

Had it out with Mimi this afternoon/evening. I’m blaming the doughnut I got for her and Beenie on the way home. I try to have a special snack for them because I pick them up around 4:30 or 5, and by then they’re good and hungrees. Poor little things. I don’t think I’ll be getting doughnuts again for evening snack. Or maybe ever. She was swinging a huge, pointy stick around and almost hit Beenie’s face, then when I grabbed the stick, she ran away from me and got a BIGGER stick. Then I made her drop the stick and she screamed and tried to bite me. I dragged her across the street to our house and then she started punching Beenie on our front porch. Then I picked her up and she punched my ear and I walked her over at arm’s length and practically threw her in the time-out chair. Note* the time-out chair is exceedingly large, cushy and PURPLE. We should all be so lucky to have such a nice time-out chair. Ten minutes were set on the timer. I told her I needed to walk away for a little while so I could lose the feeling like I wanted to give her a real spanking, not the pansy-assed, play spanks we hand out on the regular, the ones they ask for. Those are practically tickles. Mama not so good at discipline. I saw red today, tho. And stepped away. So, actually, I am good at discipline, in that I didn’t tan her rotten, cute little hide.

Woah. I get tired at the end of the day. It is hard to stay focused and to accommodate all of the tiredness from the girls with only 3 or so hours between getting home and bedtime. We gotta make this work, tho. And for the most part it does. Except for today. But this was an exception.

Have I mentioned how stressful it is to try to sell a house? It is really so very beautiful. I wish someone would buy it so we can pack up all our stuff and be ready to move into the new house after the 31st of March. Then I can unpack all the art crap I have and put it where I want it to be in my command center.

I am going to treat myself to an artist residency in my own house after the move. I can’t hardly wait.


  1. One of your artses is moving before the rest of your artses are moving. Let’s hope puddle painting’s move gives your move good mojo.

    I wish I could say I’ve always stepped away when I see red. I really wish I could. My only restraint has been screaming in a tiny, horrible little face instead of beating it to a pulp. I don’t like those moments. Theirs or mine.

    1. don’t think there wasn’t yelling, nappy, unfortunately. there was. and wailing by all parties involved. then we both apologized and finished out the day. meh. how can someone so little illicit such fury? how can someone so little have so much of her own fury?

  2. Hope the doughnut Mimi has not returned.

    Puddle is hanging above my desk in the dining room.

    You unpacked? I’ll write on paper soon. You get the first real letter when we get return address labels.

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