Category: crazy stuff

Happy. Made my bed. Thought I was cured. Thought I had it all figured out. Lined the sides of my bed with dirty laundry stacked flat. Told the person I thought was in charge I was feeling better, I was ready to wash my clothes. She gleamed, smiled wonderful. “Where’s the washer and dryer?” I […]

I have one painting I really like today. It’s called “Referee for my mind”. The creation of the painting hasn’t  started refereeing my mind yet. I’m still falling down the rabbit hole or in the mouse trap. I got many things done, remembered to do many things, then at 1:00PM I came to my studio. […]

“Mom, do these break?” Jack asks. “Yes, everything breaks” I say. “Is this delicate? How can this break?” Fiona asks. “If you hit it with a hammer, or if I run over it with my car it will break” I say. I tried to put only non-breakable ornaments on the tree. That’s what I told […]

The air quality is good today. The sky, blue. I had the blues this morning. I’ve had the blues for many months, I haven’t written since October. As I walked above Boyd Park, in the open space that has been closed since the Camp fire, I cried as I decided to put everything that is […]

A Butterfly Turns into a Creepy Child Butterfly bear. Thats what happened as I worked on my Week Two Project in my Being Human Residency. The assignment was to pick an item we’ve confiscated from our children. We discussed things that were confiscated from us when we were children. I wrote about mine last week […]

Dark house. Stress. Neck tight. Shoulders tight. Insomnia. Another hour goes by. Ticking off the time that might be left to sleep. Worry. Question- how tired will I be tomorrow? Guilt. Have to cancel date night, dinner plans, babysitter. Guilt. What kind of mood will I be in tomorrow for my family? I will need […]

Dried Flowers, lavender, buttercup, violet, brown velvet, and orange. They are flowers Fiona and I collected from the flowering plants of winter. She reminded me this morning they were hers too. “Don’t touch anything in my closet” I said to Fiona. “Don’t touch my dried flowers” I said. “They’re ours mommy” Fiona said. She was […]