On a Roll

I have been participating in an online painting workshop called, Paint Your Story. Mindy Lacefield is our instructor. It is so much fun! In this class we are reconnecting with our 7 year old selves and loosening up our control, being free and just painting from the heart. We are also learning some fun shading techniques and using bright colors. Honestly, between this and whatever clicked for me at my second ArtFest, I am the happiest I have ever been. I feel strange saying that. I said it to a friend, out loud, the other day. It felt so bizarre to say. People can get so comfortable in the habit of complaints. It seems like such a huge statement. It's because I'm creating every single day. Almost, anyway. When I wake up in the morning, I'm excited about what lies ahead. For some reason, I'm not as worried about things working out. I have faith. Me. *I* have faith! I never have faith.

I have been re-watching Twin Peaks. It is a bit of a crazy experience. The first time I watched it I was 15. It was on broadcast television before Tivo and Netflix. My friend would tape it, and we would study the episodes at her house. It is such a nostalgic experience, but it's a nostalgic show. Everything feels like a half forgotten dream. It was taped in the 90's with a 50's feel. It's romantic and ridiculous, and I just love it. It makes me laugh and cry, and I love that I still love it. It's such a part of me. It is perfect that I'm watching it right now, while I'm reconnecting with my whole self. The self that loved this show when I was an angsty teen. I used to stay up half the night making art. I'd paint my face and take self portraits. I'd dress all crazy with one of my best friends, and we would go out and pretend we were tourists, talking in a made up language. We would steal things. Dare adults to confront us. I snuck out my window in the dark, just to feel the darkness. The hum of the street lights. We would drink in the woods. Dare our bodies to keep up with our hearts. Scratch ourselves until we bled. We may have been stupid, but we were fearless. My only fear lived inside my house and I seemed to think that anything happening outside of it was something I could deal with as long as they didn't find out. It is a theme that won't die in my life. The childhood I had compared to the childhood I am giving my kids. Trying to both shed it and appreciate it.

Naia's reading seems to have clicked a bit more. She doesn't love math, but she isn't completely flipping out when we do it. As always, she is curious and vibrant and in love with life, critically thinking about every little thing we encounter, so I am not so worried about her being on her own time table. Josie is having fun at school and is very best friends with a few kids in our neighborhood and I think summer will be full of play date swapping, impromptu sleepovers, bike riding, and all sorts of childhood perfection. Our house is shit, as usual, but it could be worse. We aren't in a 3rd world country. Our mortgage is fairly cheap. We have all the important things.

I might actually try to dig out my bravery and bust out some stuff to sell at Last Thursday. I can attach all my fabric flowers to ponytail bands, make a bunch of underwear, and if I tape up my hula hoops, I could sell them too. If I sold hula hoops with bootie shorts, Oh My Golly Gosh, that would be fun.