Destruction and a Hard Cider

I sit here before the computer, on a rainy Tuesday evening. I have half a hard cider remaining, and I just read the fucking funniest blog in the world. Probably the most offensive too, to about 33.3% of Americans. Mostly the Morman and Muslim ones. Oh, and maybe the Southern Baptist ones. Oh, and maybe the Catholic ones. Okay, so maybe it would be offensive to more like 66.67% of Americans.

I am pretty darn close to being ready for my touring class, which begins on Monday. The Boy is sleeping sweetly in his bed (I know 'cuz I just checked), and the Dog is done with her Chicken Dog routine, since the thunder is passed. The Husband is probably sitting in front of his laptop in the Windy City, or maybe enjoying a rare evening actually watching TV on the television. (He can only watch DVDs on on the TV at home. We didn't ever get around to purchasing the whatever you have to have to get television for free now.)

My one-act plays are cast, and I have read several pages of our final issue of Newsweek. Not that it is especially newsy, now. I am considering a switch back to Time.

Again, the mellow woman speaketh. However, don't worry. Was I mellow before? Just ask the Dog Cabinet. I threw away about seventeen pounds of shit. I found an expired can of dog food, rock hard dog biscuits, several old sippy cup lids.... (Just the lids, mind you. Why?) I recycled even more. Why did I keep just one plate of a stupid set of paper plates? Why did I find three bags FULL of plastic knives? Does anyone use plastic knives? Really? Do they cut?

Calming down. More cider.

So, after I cleaned out that cabinet (WHY DO I FUCKING HAVE THREE DOG PRESCRIPTIONS THAT EXPIRED IN 2006???), I next tackled the Boy's closet. I don't know why the top of his dresser was completely covered in over a foot's worth of stacked and semi-folded clothes, but it was. I don't understand. When I fold the laundry, I put everything in the drawers. So what was this stuff? I found a pair of girl's pants, a hanger without the hanging bit, and two opened containers of baby wipes. And that was all before I tackled the mess on the floor. I found a red sweater with clowns on it... the Boy won't fit it for maybe another two years, and would probably slit his wrists before being seen in public wearing it. Clowns, I ask you... Anyway, I filled a ginormous bag with items that the Boy cannot wear anymore, and are now in the basement awaiting the looming yard sale (or moving truck to Salvation Army).

And for the coup de grace, while the Boy watched his evening videos, I tackled the master bathroom. I am not sure why I found four empty bottles in the shower, other than the maid sucks and needs to be fired.

[That is a running joke in the house. I tell the Husband that the kitchen looks like ass, and that our maid sucks, and he needs to fire her, the joke being that I am the maid. He just gives me one of his patented "That's my Gracie Lou" looks, and ignores me.]

It was kind of funny. I honestly had NO idea that the glass doors to the shower were NOT frosted glass. (giggle) And I had forgotten what how shiny the floor tiles look when not covered in a soft cushioned carpet of black dog hair.

So, yeah, I went a little nuts today. I know that many people consider cleaning to be a Useful Task and Necessary. I think of cleaning as destructive. Honestly. There is nothing better than throwing shit out. I LOVE aggressively scrubbing something. When the Husband's boss was acting like Stalin, I tackled the heavy saute pan with a scrubber, and imagined that the stained and scummy surface was her face. My pan is awful purty now.

So, I have a clean Dog Cabinet, a clean closet in the Boy's room, and a clean Master bathroom, and I am now out of cider...

Does emptying the bottle of cider count as a destructive or a constructive act?

uh... heh heh

Since no one reads this anyway, I guess I can feel free now to just go with the flow. I blame my lack of productivity on the Boy, the Dog, the Air Conditioning, and... and hurricanes.

The book is getting there. Really. School is out, the studio tour is done, and I finished my last mutherphucking board meeting last night. I do have a summer class to continue prepping for, and I am directing two shows for that one act festival. Oh, and the script I submitted is being produced. Creativity is flowing, along with the wine.

I entered an art show. I am supposed to make art out of some odds and ends from a hardware store. So far, I have constructed a female figure out of copper wire, and have built her a skirt out of window screen material. I have a metal corset top planned, and cool accessories out of nuts. But I am not having fun. Nope. Not even

a little. I always hated costume design, and sewing, and constructing stuff. And how I loathe having to be creative, and finding that I have the mental capacity for creativity.

This may be a wee bit of sarcasm, but I am not certain.

Let summer come. Nothing that a glass of sangria won't fix. And if not a glass, then a pitcher... You see, I am happy.

Shocking, I know. All I do is bitch and moan about not having time to write, or time to care for my Boy, or freedom from shitty meetings with people I loathe.

But... Plan 1. I did it. I have decided what I want to do. I have decided what I care about. And, I decided what I didn't want to do.

Now, I have moved on. I can have a glass of wine with my friends, or write, or flex my creative muscles in creating my incredibly bad art. Or, maybe, I can work on my art. Because I can now. I have the emotional energy for it. For the first time in quite a while, I might be able to practice my art, rather than just 'support' it.

Never fear. I am not descending into narcissism. I have decided that I do care about the studio tour, and will serve on that committee. And yeah, I will spending time with my friends and my family, but I will not be 'Networking' now. Rather, I will be 'Building Relationships'.

I have this sneaking feeling that some of my friends have enjoyed my company, and didn't care what I was doing on the arts council.

Here's to the more relaxed and happy me. Yeah, this was a rambling post that didn't really address a theme. Hence the dumb title.

Sangria, anyone?