This woman is wondering why she is wearing such a fancy, ruffled dress. She may have a headache. She is confused. Her right hand is filthy. Or perhaps just poorly drawn. I am going to do some serious investigating about paper quality, pencil sharpeners, and perfect charcoal or graphite. I want to make the tiniest of lines – but my art supplies are lousy. It is easy to purchase the wrong art supplies. Or to not purchase any. I’ve been using whatever paper I have available – often thin and bleach-y. My eraser is truly awful. I may invest in a good eraser. The remnant lines don’t bother me too much – I think of them as evidence of my charming fallibility. It would, however, be nice to have the option of clean erasing.
I have often thought that it would be an interesting experiment to try to eat all of the packaged food on our shelves prior to purchasing more. The cans of chili, the cream of mushroom soup. The couscous, quinoa, and stale angelhair. All of it. Until it’s gone. Somebody will do it. Eat the old ramen noodles, dusty with the shit of pantry moths. And then they will blog their experiences, and then write a book about mindless consumption as evidenced by the hasty purchase of 4 cans of LeSeur baby peas and chunky clam chowder. They will learn the hard way to buy only what they need. They will never eat soup again. If I wasn’t so busy trying to draw everyday…
I still need to eat all that stuff. Or at least donate what’s not expired to the food bank. Tomorrow is canned food day at the Mountain State Fair. Hmmmm. We went to the fair yesterday. Olive didn’t want to sit next to me on the ferris wheel. Which was stunning. From the 196- Seattle World’s Fair. Leo flipped about fair games. People make me feel queasy. I used to love the Poison song that blared from the Himilaya. Yesterday, it made me want to punch someone. I kept batting at my ear. Overstimulated. I pawed my ears like my dog, Shiny, does. I need to clean her ears and not go to the fair. Eat canned chili.
My self-discipline is growing by the day. I actually work at work. My house is clean. The dog still needs a bath, but the children are practicing better hygiene…sorta.
Tomorrow is school picture day. They can wear whatever they want. I’m not going to force their hair to lay neatly flat on their sweet, round heads. My children have hair that fluffs up in tufts – a nimbus of sleep that stays with them all day. There is enough to nag them about in the morning. Waffles uneaten, shoes unfound. The time, the time, the time. School begins at 7:55 am. True, we do not catch rural route buses in the dark. True, we get free public education. True, it could be far worse. But, 7:55!
This afternoon I left work early and spent time with the kids. We walked the dogs around the neighborhood. Leo was proud to walk both at one time. A woman backing out of her driveway complimented our calm procession down South French Broad. I glowed. I let her drive away imagining that I must be an incredible lady, to have such well-behaved pets, such compliant and patient children.
HA! (The dogs generally are, it is worth noting, very well-behaved.)
I want to walk the dogs everyday. I want to do everything everyday. This project has caused me to be enamored by quotidian tasks intended for my edification and character development. However, it doesn’t really matter what the task is. I think the act of doing something everyday is the important part. Whether it is drawing, or dog walking, praying or playing. Daily-ness saves lives. We keep going because we can’t skip a day. It’s as good a reason as any.
I’m going to buy a good eraser tomorrow.