Art on the Cheap
Art in time for Christmas giving, and it's affordable for folks like me.
NorDys is having a $199 and under show starting this Friday.
Happy art hunting.
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Art in time for Christmas giving, and it's affordable for folks like me.
NorDys is having a $199 and under show starting this Friday.
Happy art hunting.
1. showing irritation or ill humor by a gloomy silence or reserve.
I haven't spoken to either of my parents since I hung up on my dad. I sent an email to my mom which she in turn ignored. Quaint. I did speak to my brother today. He let me know that my grandmother is out of the hospital and on her way to that long road of recovery. When I mentioned to my brother that Mom wasn't speaking to me he said "Maybe she thinks you should cut dad some slack." His tone implied that he agreed with Mom but he would have said more on the matter if he didn't understand how I feel. I mean it's not like my dad just all of a sudden became an ass when my grandmother got sick. And my brother knows that all too well. The difference between my brother and I is that he thinks he deserves what ever my dad dishes out. I know better.
So there it is. My family thinks I'm an asshole because I refuse to let my dad take his frustration out on me. And that makes me sullen.
I don't remember what the Rascal said that made me turn my back to him in bed last night but he promptly replied to my jester with:
"Great! You're giving me the butt now? I'm going to use that in our divorce. 'Judge, she gave me the butt!' "
Then he snickered as if congradulating himself on his unmatched wit.

I generally try to avoid writing about my family. Mostly because I find it hard to be nice. I don't remember just how old I was when my parents trusted me at home alone. But I do remember spending countless hours searching the house while they were out. Peeking in every box, behind every piece of furniture, rummaging through every bit of paperwork I could find looking for proof that I was adopted because I couldn't believe I was actually related to these people.
I called my dad tonight to ask him about the status of my crazy grandmother's health and was met with a lecture. My father resents the fact that he is the head of the household and never lets an opportunity pass to tell me so in a most passive aggressive way.
So I hung up on him. Maybe I'll check with the county records for those adoption papers.
Before our first date the Rascal made mentioned in an email of a Republican indoctrination torture chamber located somewhere in his home. I'm sure his sarcasm was provoked by the fact that I referred to him as The Republican for quite some time after I met him. Anyway, since moving in I have searched the house and found no such chamber of torture. I do get a daily dose of Fox News, but I wouldn't go so far to claim torture. Boring sometimes.
Today I can officially say my voting habits have changed. Now, there is no need to call me a Republican just yet but for the first time I did not vote a strait Dem. ticket. Sadly, I must admit this is the first election that I at least reconized all the names on the ballot. And while my opinions are my own, my new awarness is a direct result of living with the Rascal. My Republican Rascal.
Every day at least once I think of something to post. But somehow I never make it to the computer. Part of it is that my desk is uncomfortable, or rather my chair. Since the move, an area rug has my chair leaning to the right, which wouldn’t be that bad- except that it is. It so fucking is that bad. But rather than move the entire room around to fix the rug, I just avoid the computer all together.
The second distraction I have is a little box called Tivo. Weeds, South Park, Top Chef, Project Runway, Battlestar Galactica, Dr. Who, House, How it’s Made, and Made in America are all t.v. shows that contribute to my blog absenteeism. And don’t get me started on Netflix.
With that said here is a top 10 list of things I meant to write about in the past month or so:
10. Sidewalkfest. This year was a blast! We started off with the Rascal reminding me that the ONLY reason he volunteered was to make me happy. But by the end of the weekend he was talking about getting a hotel room in the city next year so we don’t have to drive home drunk every night. I think he’s hooked.
9. Angelbaby’s Deadly Bike Ride. Angelbaby who is 7 was grounded for the first time a couple weeks ago. Her offense? Riding her bike on a busy road. At dusk. Without a helmet. Or proper reflectors. Yea, I was beside myself to say the least. The Rascal reminded me that it is just the beginning. There is still sneeking out and boys to look forward to.
8. Work. Business has picked up but the owner is in the middle of some personal things. So the next person in command is in a constant state of panic. Which wouldn’t be that bad if she wasn’t hell bent on driving me crazy.
7. Back on the Mood Swing Pill Again. In my search for a new birth control pill I read somewhere that birth control pills don’t make you gain weight, they make your fat cells expand. To the doctor and/or team of doctors that came up that jewel of pricelessness I have but one thing to say- Fuck. You.
6. A Sad Note on Babies. All of the “breeders,” as the Rascal lovingly refers to them, have had their babies. Three healthy baby boys and one very unlucky little girl that did not make it past a few weeks. Trisomy 18 they called it, a chromosome disorder with no cure. I felt like an asshole for not going to the funeral but I was so freaked out I didn’t think I could be any consolation to the family. Consequently, any trace of baby fever that may have otherwise flourished was completely stamped out.
5. What ever happened to The Sifl and Olly Show? Seriously.
4. The Rascal Forgot My Birthday. For-got. I know, I know- last year I promised to throw everyone a big party for my 30th birthday but I just wasn’t feeling it. However, I didn’t think my birthday would be forgotten by my live in lover. I WAS WRONG.
2. My Crazy Grandmother had a Stoke. Maw maw Dot is what we call her to her face. But for the longest time my friends thought her name was “My Crazy Grandmother.” She is my only living grandparent and between her severe paranoia and her lack of driving skills I am pleasantly surprised she has made it to the ripe old age of 83. On a scale of 1 to 10 her stroke would be about a 7. With a little physical therapy she should regain everything, with the exception of her car keys.
1. The Great Paint Disagreement. When I moved in with the Rascal, none of my furniture made the cut. My bedroom suite was too feminine so it went into Angelbaby’s room. My bed was too small for the both of us. My dining table wasn’t as new and the Rascal’s table. My loveseat with dual recliners won’t fit in the living room with the Rascal’s existing furniture. In fact, other than a few framed posters and paintings, my desk and matching bookcase are the only things in sight that would suggest I moved in. I feel like I have compromised. So I absolutely refuse to paint every wall in the house a different bold color. I would rather not paint at all. Despite the fact that almost all of the walls in the house are still the same lovely shade of peach that was chosen long before the Rascal moved in circa 4 years ago.