Everyday I blog about my art, someone elses art, and sometimes even my daughters art. Then last night, I was laying there wide awake petting the dog at 2 am, thinking, why don't I ever just write about something personal? I mean, either you're reading this cause you already know me, and might like to read something more about whats going on around here, or else you don't know me from Adam, and are trying to learn more. So, here goes, a random factoid for both groups:
I have a 9 year old daughter named Sierra. I am a stay at home mom, and homeschool her. She was born with this crazy thick mess of bright red hair, and it shows. Which usually means, I HAVE to have my coffee before school can begin. Or else I will lay the smack down. (not really, lol, but somedays I do contemplate running off and becoming a gypsy)
I have had lots of jobs, usually two or three at a time, doing just about everything. My new friends usually ask, at some point, "what HAVEN'T you done?" I take it as a compliment. I don't think they really mean it that way, but I am happy thinking it, so who cares?
I am 31, I think. Sometimes I forget. Dementia runs in my family, and my great grandmother thought she was 13 for a week when I was, like 13. Sometimes I act like I am 60. Sometimes I act like I am 10. I often catch myself sounding like my mother to my daughter. I have yet to decide if this is a good thing.
I yelled "in or out!!" yesterday to Sierra. Then I thought, why are all mothers required to MAKE their kids choose one? I mean, what's the big deal? Will the front door break from over-use? Will opening the door 50 times for 2 seconds a pop make the utility bills skyrocket? Is it really that annoying, or did I attend some parenting seminar in my sleep, where this was an established rule? At any rate, I didn't yell it the next 12 times she came in for water, to pee, to show me a rock, or to tell me something.
I have at least 15 grey hairs. I dye my hair all the time, so much so that I am not sure of my real color. All I really know is that grey hairs must be some punishment sent down from God, because no matter what the box says, nothing covers 'em all, nothing.
I have also figured out that the older I get, the dumber I feel. I wonder if that is true for everyone, or if I live too close to power lines and am ACTUALLY getting dumber.
I really love the outdoors. Like, I would rather live in a tent most days. Except there is some silly stigma to people who live in tents. Also, I couldn't watch CSI then, and CSI makes me feel smart.
That's all for now. I think I will go enjoy the 75 degree weather now, and run in and out of the house a bunch to see if it really is that fun.