For the Scrapbook

FOR THE SCRAPBOOK: No One is Grown Up

I don’t know why I did it but I bought my grandma a black wool cape for Christmas. She was already dropping food on her holiday-themed sweatshirt at dinner. It was obvious that her poor hearing was not the only thing to blame for the lost look on her face. The sweet but vacant smile. I spent a lot of that meal excusing myself to cry in hallway bathroom. Mom had stacked the guest towels on the counter like a Christmas present with a bow-shaped scented soap on top. Which was a very clever idea. Three December home decor magazines complimented the little room. It was a Christmas Chamber. A tight space to smell the cinnamon candle and absentmindedly flush the toilet after not even going because I was just here twenty minutes ago.

My Mom is a loud laugher on a normal day. But this Christmas with both her kids home without either of their spouses has made her exceptionally cheerful. My brother and I opened stockings stuffed to overflowing that morning sitting on the floor in front of a family fire. Snow falling for real outside the window. Not at all like his Arizona. Certainly not like my seaside spot in California. This Indiana Christmas made us almost content. Not like the rest of the year when we call each other to brag about our respective sunshine and outdoor activities. We are both soaking up too much for Midwest redheads. Every time I see him I think he needs to be careful about the sun. His head is very freckled. Adorable but what about all that melanoma in our Grandpa’s brothers?

Grandpa has been spending a lot of time in his garage workshop lately. He tells us at dinner about the squirrel feeders and bird houses he’s designed. The secret he’s holding is quietly put on the bed with the rest of the winter coats while he smiles at his grandkids. They always love him. They always laugh. They are the only ones that don’t think he’s a failure. He doesn’t even know whether to keep covering up his wife’s memory gaffes or just put out his gnarled hands. Beg for help and a bit of rest. A break from the half-stranger of a wife.
What if he just told them the truth right now? Merry Christmas kids, your grandma thinks I have another woman living in the garage and that we are planning to kill her. Your grandma calls people when I’m in the bathroom and tells them that I’m starving her and that woman is eating all the food! Your grandma talks about her sister Vera as though it’s 1948.

My Dad is focusing on teasing my brother and me for escape. We are obliging him and each other. We are being so kind and sarcastic. He’s just like one of the kids. Tipping his chair back. Waiting for the pecan pie. Giggling when Mom drops the whipped cream on the plaid tablecloth. He tried to tell her to go with the red one.

Mom is almost ready to unveil her latest Perfect Christmas surprise. The piano is dusted and has been tuned. She has practiced the easiest Christmas songs in her old hymnal. They wouldn’t dare say no to singing with her if it’s from that sacred green family heirloom.

I Miss My Friends

Would Erykah Badu Wear My Weird Hat?

My attempt at "scrumbling" which is freestyle crocheting. I might work it into a Halloween costume. Or send it to Erykah Badu.

Candiland is more like Chutes and Ladders right now. Well. Not so many ladders.

Sunny in the Garden

Hot Hot

About A Nine On The Punk Rock Poetry Scale

Sunny Says About Doo Doo (dude above): He is really silly. And he is very very very cute. He's the cutest man I ever seen. And he has a little short beard on his chin. And below his nose. (mama, do you think doo doo will see this and keep it?) well, Doo Doo is the funniest man I ever seen in my whole whole life and I seen him since I was born! Doo Doo plays silly stuff with me. And he teaches me stuff like puzzles that's hard to do. And other really hard things to do. When we're playing silly police man guy I giggle then he looks at me and I'm not giggling then. Then he just says "dork" or anything. He says really funny words. And he has a very silly word to say and its "blithigut!" That's a silly word. Isn't it mama?

My Gas Station is Steeped in "History"

I Just Watched the Mermaids Twirling and Gripped my Phone so I Wouldn't Get Dizzy

Sunny's summer dance series is in full swing scheduled to climax on my birthday June 27 with a big shew at the university theater. Last Saturday Sunny's dance class, about 1/3 of the kids in the big shew, did a skeleton version of "Under The Sea" at the music festival down on the Embarcadero. Those sequins under that sun with all the spinning and steel drums . . .
Ariel's sisters in Little Mermaid. I love the sheer stage presence of the girl kneeling on the right clutching her throat. I've been doing just that pose a lot lately.
They are jelly fish!
The one above is the best pic of the day. Kid in turtle costume yawning. Doting Grandpa. Checkerboard. Sunny looking like a lost fairy in a sea world. The walking mermaid's almost-invisible legs and feet.
She's wondering what her Mermaid Motivation is.

Sunny told me to wear more pink because it matches me. She overheard me telling Pat I wasn't sure I wanted a pink aura because it was such a girlie color. She pointed out that she wears a lot of pink and isn't too girlie. I think I learned how to argue against that kind of fallacy in Philosophy class but you know I just can't access all that right now. My brain is busy remembering 1980 through 1988.
I love the face of the singing crab.
Sunny is on the far right. Pink girl wistfully watching the little blue guy leave the stage.

Be Aware: Sushi Alive

Pat did the panda. I did the rest with my beloved sharpies.
I'm the pretty little prawn on top. Sushi Alive.

Now, Why?

Wearing My Poncho From 1979

Sword In The Stone Storyboard by Sunny

One of Us Is A Spy