I’ve got so many flecks of Dusty Moss in my hair, I look like a premenopausal chia pet. And I feel just like an emotionally unstable Van Gogh, except I typed this with two ears.
I’m sorry I haven’t been around lately.
I’ve been busy having an emotional breakdown or two. Or thirty.
God, those things are exhausting.
But I take a breather every so often to paint!
Painting is so much more constructive than losing my shit, even if it is sweatier.
No portraits or landscapes or still lifes for me, though. I’m painting walls. A lot of them. Just in case you were wondering how a simple watercolor brush could make my right bicep look pregnant and cause my entire arm to hang lower than my kneecaps.
If I had known that the collateral damage from having my life implode would result in me acting upon those sudden and irresistible urges to splash some color on all the walls of my house? I would have asked Nate to lose his mind years ago. As it is, my family room and my bedroom now look years younger. And bonus! On days I forget to shave, I am being mistaken for a lopsided primate.
Go ahead. Be jealous.
Soon, I hope to show you our new photo wall in our freshly painted family room. I have to make sure that all the frames are absolutely, utterly and perfectly aligned because otherwise, THE WORLD WILL TOTALLY END. Also? It’s damn near impossible to take a picture of an unaligned photo wall when my left eye is twitching and I’m having a seizure.
In the meantime, I wanted to thank you all again for your comments, thoughts and prayers. They have brought me such comfort, you would not believe. You guys are like warm, gooey macaroni and cheese, without all the belching and quadruple bypass. To maintain a few shreds of dignity in this mess, I won’t be writing about what’s happening over here except to simply say that if you’ve been around here for awhile, you know that my family, even the furry, pooping member, is my life. Nothing is more important to me. I’m willing to fight tooth and nail for us. To keep us, us. I have no idea if we will survive but I can’t live with myself if I don’t try. So? Here’s to some big, fat globs of hope that I don’t wind up walking this earth alone with bloody fingertips, gumming baby food, for naught.
I hope you all have a wonderful weekend.