November 18th, 2005

breeden

(no subject)

Today's morning ballet was particularly well choreographed.

At 8:14:50, James ran the coffee grinder.

At 8:14:54, the grinder stopped, I went "Grunnnghggh..." and opened one eye.

At 8:14:55, having been hovering patiently, like a Siamese hawk, Athena dove at my face and began licking my nose frantically. Not being in the mood for nose licking from somebody who's breath smells like diseased salmon, I flailed and gronked.

At 8:14:57, the cat took off running, with the accompanying herd-of-tiny-mustangs noise.

At 8:14:58, I closed the eye and thought "I could get a few more minutes of sleep..."

At 8:15:00, the alarm went off.

Variations on this theme play out most days, but the fact that cat and husband managed to get me out of bed within ten seconds shows that they're really on top of their game this morning.
breeden

(no subject)

There's nothin' quite like that moment when you've got a piece of illo board covered in watercolor washes that looks like nothing much, and you stare at it and think "Man, how is this even gonna WORK?" and then you pull out the colored pencils, and you grit your teeth, and you start in, and you do one little section, and you step back, and you go "Ohhh...yeah."

Then you wait nervously for a second to make sure the Kool-Aid man doesn't smash through the wall and completely negate any chance of getting your damage deposit back on the apartment. And most of the time, this does not, in fact, happen. And you gaze upon the tiny patch of the painting and think "Man, if I can get the rest of this sucker lookin' like that..."

The painting may yet die, it may yet fail, it may turn into a confusing compositionless morass of lines, it may muddy from too many washes, the cat may throw up on it, the Kool-Aid man might wait until your back is turned and come and rain staining red death upon you and the art, no matter how valiantly you throw yourself across the painting to save it, but for now, life is good.