>She’s folding maroon-colored Ikea blankets. I’m goofing off on my laptop. Aidan is playing “BATTLE!!!” with the kid next door, and Dan is ion his way home from a magic gig but not before he stops and acquires cilantro per Tina’s instructions for dinner tonight. This is my Sunday home life.
It’s so frustratingly frequent that I will often be having a conversation and a topic comes up of such oddity and curiousness that I feel compelled to respond, “I need to blog about that!”
Then I’ll be damned if I don’t forget what it was.
I have been spending a better portion of of the day trying to recall such conversations to no avail. I have a vague recollection of some conversation about “cow pancakes”, but the how or the why is gone.
I have paint all over my fingers. I had helped Tina hang up her paper star-lamp thingee, but to do so I had to use coaxial cable staples which, unfortunately, are black. So I had found some latex paint in a similar shade to her bedroom wall to paint said coaxial cable staples so that they weren’t appallingly eyesore-esque and in the process got the latex paint on my fingers as i used them to capture the paint drops that were sneaking off of the side of the container in an attempt to keep the paint from plopping all over Tina’s bed and preventing me from getting smacked with a spatula. She’s a cook. She does that.
One thing I could discuss is that my show is finally set up. Dan and I went out to Edmonds yesterday to install all 20 of my pieces with all of the corresponding title/price tags so I can become rich and famous. I just want enough money so we can buy and furnish a house, I can get a new car (4 door Jeep maybe?) and pay off my student loan, thank you very much Sallie Mae.
Tina’s outside visiting with Aidan’s friends’ mom doing her mom thang. Uh oh. Boys tried to run across the street without looking both ways first. I just heard a mitxure of: “Aidan – Joseph – wait – get – back – here – stop – right – now – that – is – not – okay – no – no – no – stop – right – now -young – man – AIDAN – JAMES – YOU – GET – BACK – HERE – RIGHT – NOW – JOSEPH – NAH – AH – AH!!! YOU – ALWAYS – LOOK – BOTH – WAYS – BEFORE – CROSSING – THE – STREET – YOU – UNDERSTAND!!!???”
The kids, of course, are completely oblivious and have engaged their voluntary selective listening disorders and continue their jaunt across 21st ave NW.
I think my mother hooked up a device with an electromagnetic pulse to disable mine when I was about fifteen. Or perhaps it was the threat of being grounded that kept me on the straight and narrow. Or perhaps she really did engage an electromagnetic pulse that wiped out my memory. What the hell was I saying? I don’t know…shit.