I have to admit a big fat fail.
Well, on the bright side, Story-a-Day May has introduced me to knew characters and their storylines. Yay!
But I have to focus elsewhere. My son hopes to qualify for Nationals in speed skating. He’s going to practice Monday, Wednesday, and Friday evenings as well as Saturday and Sunday mornings. (One of these days I’ll write a story about a roller rink.) He has a good chance to qualify for Nationals, but paying for it is a whole ‘nother thing. Anyway, I’ve got to work on earning a few more quid. I can’t work more hours at my day job, but I can make things, and some of you know I love to make things! But making things takes time and energy. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know you understand. (Unless you’re rolling in money…are you rolling in money? Because that’s weird.) So, I have art for sale over here on my art website. Woo!
If you’re interested or can share the site, FANTASTIOSA! I’m still going to write, but not daily. I can’t story a day this May. Because I also have an art show coming up in June, so I’m trying to sell art and have art for the show. Yeah… And I’ve got a class this summer that I’ve not before, and the textbooks changed in other classes making most of my previous lesson plans useless. There are things. Like everywhere else, there are a lot of things to get done. Amiright?
I’m just going to do what I can. These stories aren’t going to leave me regardless. In the meantime, I’ll be making art like a loon.
Thanks for reading!
What is beauty?
Don’t we seem obsessed with beauty in all the wrong ways?
When my mother would tell me I was pretty, I didn’t believe her. “You’re my mother. You have to say that.”
Now I’m a mother, and I look at my son and think, “Wow. He’s beautiful.” I don’t know if the rest of the world sees him that way, but his beauty is all I can see.
But all children are beautiful to me. I see how I failed to appreciate this when I was young–how beautiful young people are. We should waste less time worrying about beauty when we are young. Well, when we are any age.
It’s a cliche for a mother to say how beautiful her child is. What is that expression? A face only a mother could love. Perhaps. Though I think there is enough evidence that for some mothers even beauty isn’t enough for love.
My son is beautiful. A few months ago he saw a movie where an orphan boy’s dog died. My son cried. “Mom,” he said. “That dog was all that boy had.” He went over to our oldest dog, then 15, now 16, and hugged him. “We have to let him now we love him,” he said, crying. My son wouldn’t let go of the dog for a long time. I was so upset that I’d stupidly allowed my son to see this movie, but…isn’t it good to see that our children feel? I knew that. I’d seen him feel many times of course. But still, my eight year old felt compassion.
That was beautiful. Don’t you think?
I’m participating in a My Most Beautiful Thing blogsplash. It seemed like fun. The idea comes from Writing Our Way Home. If you go there, you’ll find other links, other people, worth following. You’ll find other beautiful things.
We went to pick up our house key today. You see, we’ve bought a house. It’s our first house. The sellers have been leasing back from us for over a month, but soon the house will be ours.
One reason we went to the house was to have the sellers explain the washing machine. The husband is worried that the movers will drop their washing machine, so he’d rather buy a new one and let the old one stay with the house. Well, it isn’t that old. It is a nice machine, and we saw it work, and it is good. Because the sellers are blind, the washing machine is also in braille. I think it is cool to have a washing machine in braille! (There is writing too, so we won’t be lost, by the way.)
They’re also giving us their lawn mower. We’ve used it once and it works well.
Then the husband asked us if our son liked remote control cars. Oh, you bet he does.
So, the husband said he was going to leave our son two remote control cars. He’s going to put one in the bedroom closet and the other in the living room. They’ll be a surprise.
You walk into the house and it has a good feeling. A good vibe. That is probably mumbo jumbo, but still… The sellers are very nice people.
We are going to love our house.
Okay, my family doesn’t have an attic. And the word crazy gets tossed around much too easily.
Still, family has its challenges, and certainly every family member might should be locked in an attic for a while from time to time. Metaphorically speaking, of course.
Sometimes I suspect I’m the one who should be in the attic…it’s probably quiet up there.
So, a particular someone in my family has a debilitating disease. This person doesn’t know I have a blog–and probably doesn’t even know what a blog is–but in the off chance I’m wrong about that, this story will be as convoluted as possible.
I’m not supposed to know this person is sick. Every time I talk to this person, I must act as if everything is fine. I know about the illness because someone else felt that I had a right to know, but that someone made me promise not to reveal that I know the truth.
In some ways, this makes life easy. I don’t have to figure out what to say or wonder what I should do to help. But then that someone tells me this person has stopped taking their medication. Just stopped. But I don’t know that, of course, so I can’t say, “Take your medicine!”
I ask, “How are you doing?”
This person says, “I’m fine. I had a cold.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I went to the doctor. Everything’s good!”
Do you ever have fake conversations with your family?