The problem with blogs is that there are too many good ones out there.
When I run across one I like, I have two nearly simultaneous reactions:
(1) This is awesome; I should follow it! I'll get so much out of it! It's useful/thoughtful/funny. Think how much I'll learn, or grow, or laugh! LOVE.
(2) I resent the way this person blogs so much better than me. Funnier, more insightful, more relevant. And entries come more than twice a year. I feel more envious and guilty with every word. HATE.
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
Wednesday, June 19, 2013
You're married to a what now? Is that patchouli I'm smelling?
My husband is a fairly artistic fellow. He sculpts, draws, paints, designs and builds furniture, and doodles like a master. That said, I've never thought of him as "an artist" because his artistic pursuits have generally been hobbies, not his profession.
A few weeks ago, I met a woman from the West Huron Sculptors at an event we were both attending. My husband is a member; it's essentially a group of sculptors who go in together to rent some studio space. In addition to paying rent on the space, they all chip in to pay a model who comes in once a week. I don't really think of my husband as "a sculptor," I think of him as a Guy Who Goes To Sculpt On Sundays.
While I was talking to this woman, a third person joined us and asked how we wer knew each other, and my new acquaintance said "I share a studio with her husband." That is 100% true, but when she said that, it gave me pause. Do they share a studio? Isn't that something that artists would do? My husband, an artist? I don't know why that should trip off my tongue in a difficult way, because, you know, he pretty much is one when I consider his talent and interests. And yet, well, it was a new concept.
My next thought is that "I don't look like an artists' wife." I needed more jewelry. Funkier glasses. Drapier clothes. Which is also ridiculous, because my own mother was the wife of an artist--straight up, legit, my dad IS an artist--and she didn't skew very funky in her sartorial choices.
And yet. I feel the need to buy purple glasses and wear chunky bracelets and skirts of unusual length.
A few weeks ago, I met a woman from the West Huron Sculptors at an event we were both attending. My husband is a member; it's essentially a group of sculptors who go in together to rent some studio space. In addition to paying rent on the space, they all chip in to pay a model who comes in once a week. I don't really think of my husband as "a sculptor," I think of him as a Guy Who Goes To Sculpt On Sundays.
While I was talking to this woman, a third person joined us and asked how we wer knew each other, and my new acquaintance said "I share a studio with her husband." That is 100% true, but when she said that, it gave me pause. Do they share a studio? Isn't that something that artists would do? My husband, an artist? I don't know why that should trip off my tongue in a difficult way, because, you know, he pretty much is one when I consider his talent and interests. And yet, well, it was a new concept.
My next thought is that "I don't look like an artists' wife." I needed more jewelry. Funkier glasses. Drapier clothes. Which is also ridiculous, because my own mother was the wife of an artist--straight up, legit, my dad IS an artist--and she didn't skew very funky in her sartorial choices.
And yet. I feel the need to buy purple glasses and wear chunky bracelets and skirts of unusual length.
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
The End of Middle School.... High School AHOY
Actually, I DO have something to write about.
So the kid is about to "graduate" from his current school, which he has attended for seven years. It's been a great place for him. I really like the feel of the community there, and I appreciate the education he's received. I get emotional thinking about him leaving. For the last few months I've felt myself pulling away, even dwelling on some of the small things that I don't like about the place, but I know I'm just doing that to make the leaving less difficult. Not working very well.
The school conducts a formal graduation ceremony for the 8th graders and the kids are expected to dress nicely. Two nights ago he tried on the whole shebang--his suit, (which I bought him last year for his Dr. Who costume), new dress shirt, clip on tie (he's 14, give me a break here), etc. I almost bawled. When I look at him I still see that round-faced drooly big-eyed 5 month old eager to be picked up. That baby is wearing a SUIT! And in two days he will be wearing it in front of us as he graduates. Bring kleenex.
Speaking of graduation ceremonies.... I know people who are dismissive of commencement ceremonies that occur below the high school level. I think they may be coming at this from their criticism of a world that now rewards "achievement" for participation and showing up, etc. Well, I don't care to debate all that business just now, but I will say that I think it's appropriate that the 8th graders at my son's school get a nice send-off. Because the school is K-8, many of them have been there together for a long time, and because it is private and draws from all over, now they split up to go their separate ways. I think the class of 42 students will be attending 10 different high schools next year.
Speaking of high school, last week we attended an ice cream social at the school he'll be attending. I am really pleased with his choice and excited about his attendance next year! I was bouncing off the walls, so it is probably a good thing that my son and his six other classmates shunned their parents and went to sit elsewhere. Don't worry kid, I have four long years to embarrass you; no need to get an early start.
So the kid is about to "graduate" from his current school, which he has attended for seven years. It's been a great place for him. I really like the feel of the community there, and I appreciate the education he's received. I get emotional thinking about him leaving. For the last few months I've felt myself pulling away, even dwelling on some of the small things that I don't like about the place, but I know I'm just doing that to make the leaving less difficult. Not working very well.
The school conducts a formal graduation ceremony for the 8th graders and the kids are expected to dress nicely. Two nights ago he tried on the whole shebang--his suit, (which I bought him last year for his Dr. Who costume), new dress shirt, clip on tie (he's 14, give me a break here), etc. I almost bawled. When I look at him I still see that round-faced drooly big-eyed 5 month old eager to be picked up. That baby is wearing a SUIT! And in two days he will be wearing it in front of us as he graduates. Bring kleenex.
Speaking of graduation ceremonies.... I know people who are dismissive of commencement ceremonies that occur below the high school level. I think they may be coming at this from their criticism of a world that now rewards "achievement" for participation and showing up, etc. Well, I don't care to debate all that business just now, but I will say that I think it's appropriate that the 8th graders at my son's school get a nice send-off. Because the school is K-8, many of them have been there together for a long time, and because it is private and draws from all over, now they split up to go their separate ways. I think the class of 42 students will be attending 10 different high schools next year.
Speaking of high school, last week we attended an ice cream social at the school he'll be attending. I am really pleased with his choice and excited about his attendance next year! I was bouncing off the walls, so it is probably a good thing that my son and his six other classmates shunned their parents and went to sit elsewhere. Don't worry kid, I have four long years to embarrass you; no need to get an early start.
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Yikes, it's been a whole YEAR since I updated?
Well, that's not exactly disciplined, dedicated writing, is it? But then I haven't had much to say or share.
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