Sharing My World 19

 

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Share Your World – 2015 Week #7

Is the paper money in your possession right now organized sequentially according to denomination and with the bills right side up and facing the same way?

Well, if I had any, it probably would be anally organized, just like that.  I can’t remember the last time I carried cash.  If I need it I find an ATM.  Almost every job I’ve ever had has involved processing payments by cash, credit and debit cards.  I admit it has always annoyed me to have to straighten out the bills in a cash register, turning them all in the same direction.  It’s just so much easier to avoid mistakes when things are all neat and tidy.  Unfortunately, I had a co-worker for years who didn’t understand that concept and spent a lot of her time alternately misplacing and then looking for things.  For a long time I made an attempt at helping her to stay organized, but it wore me out and I gave up.

I’m not saying there aren’t areas of complete chaos in my life.  Like some of my kitchen cupboards for instance.  But that’s why cupboards have doors which close to hold things in place.  Every so often I go on a crusade to sort everything out and add to my garage sale bins.

What is your favorite type of dog?  (can be anything from a specific breed, a stuffed animal or character in a movie)

No favorites here, unless you count all the dogs that are well-behaved and belong to somebody else.  Or the Starbucks dog which sits on a shelf in my bedroom and (with the help of a gargoyle) guards my junk jewelry.  He’s kind of cute and very low maintenance.  So is the gargoyle.  I can’t remember why I have these things.  Would you buy them at a garage sale?

If money was not an issue, would you go on a cruise?  If so where would you go?

Yes, but not an ocean cruise where you can’t see land at all times.  A riverboat cruise on the Rhône river from Switzerland, through France, to the Mediterranean Sea sounds like something I might like.  Especially the part where I have the same room for the entire trip with no packing and unpacking every few days while still going different places and seeing different things.  Or I could just watch a travel show on tv and use the money for something else.   I hear all you travel lovers gasping in disbelief.

Would you dare to sleep in a haunted house overnight?

Sure.  That sounds a lot less scary than being on the ocean.  I’m a very sound sleeper so who knows what might go on around me while I’m oblivious to it all.  Could be a big disappointment for the ghosts.

Bonus question:  What are you grateful for from last week, and what are you looking forward to in the week coming up?

I’m grateful for a lovely long-weekend visit with kids and grandkids.  There was cake.  Our movie theatre is within grandma-walking-distance so we went to see Paddington Bear.   There weren’t a lot of choices – the other ones playing were inappropriate for young children with violence, crude language, and shades of grey.  I won’t be spending any more money on Christian and Ana.   Sponge Bob was one above that one on my list.

W goes to see the hip surgeon soon and will hopefully be put on a hip replacement list that is not ridiculously long.  Different surgeons have different lists.  What in the world would we do without lists?  All organization would come to a grinding halt.

I’m looking forward to Spring.  Although the chances of it arriving here in the week coming up are slim.  That’s when we’ll have our garage sale, with everything all sequentially organized and right side up and facing in the same direction.

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Art du Jour 28

imageMy inspiration for this was our six-hour road trip home on Boxing Day, when there was nothing much to look at except trees and snow.  And the strangest cloud bank I’ve ever seen.  It was straight across the sky, beginning and ending abruptly with nothing interesting to say for itself.

I could have taken a blurry picture through a dirty car window, but I like how much less realistic this is.  Let’s call it impressionistic, because that sounds like an artsy word.  I might have thrown it out but my daughter saw it half-finished and said she liked it.

The reality of how boring it was put me to sleep.  I think I’ve captured that very well.

This piece (of whatever you’d like to call it) was inspired by the pattern on the drawing paper.  I’m the kind of person who sees faces in the bathroom tiles and on the whorly things on ceilings and floors.

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I am especially enamoured of her bizarre hair.  When I am famous and there is a book written about my art, this will be referred to as my “insane coloured charcoal” period.

Well that was fun.  I’m thinking I should now do something serious, but also at the same time wondering what the hell for.

An Early Epiphany

The best childhood lessons are the ones we figure out on our own. You know that kid you shake your head at while you roll your eyes and remark that he’s just going to have to learn everything the hard way? Sometimes the strongest people are the ones who start out that way.

It doesn’t really matter for a lot of us how cajoled and threatened and showered with advice we are while we’re growing up. There’s a stubborn streak that questions the rules and the reasons for them, and makes us stomp off in another direction to do whatever we want.

There are always consequences of course. And little ‘ah hah’ moments when we finally get it. Or gleeful moments of triumph when we prove, if only to ourselves, that the rule was stupid and useless in the first place.

My earliest memories revolve around being made to do things that were unpleasant but supposedly GOOD FOR ME. Eat your porridge. Take your vitamins. Wear a hat. Go to bed early. Respect your elders. Be polite. Wash your hands. This time with soap. Please be quiet.

I remember sighing a lot, and dutifully doing whatever I was told. Wondering why the fun things were bad for me, and the irksome disagreeable things were always for my own good. That must have been my four year old mind-set the day I decided to eat dirt.

The texture and the taste is something that has always stuck with me, never mind whatever ‘lesson’ I had dreamed up for myself at that particular moment. I do recall anticipating that the experience would no doubt be awful, but something I should just do so that I could get it over with and thus become a better person.

I also remember my brother being grossed out and telling on me. And how unfair life seemed if it was always going to be so hard to get things right.

Is that the day I began to nurture the tiny seed of rebellion? Maybe. It may not have been a coherent thought in my childish little head, but I’ve never forgotten figuring out that icky things were not necessarily good, so it had to follow that boisterous fun was not always bad. That black and white produced lovely shades of grey.

I still distrust being told what to do. I question advice, well-meant and otherwise. I know that doing something for my own good which is making me truly miserable should send me off immediately in another direction to find a different way of reaching the same goal. What is good for you may be wrong for me. If I believe that, it will be hard for you to change my mind.

Because since that epiphanous childhood day, I no longer eat dirt.

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