Bathing During School

I just got back from picking Sunny up from school. She was in the office nurse area on a folding chair kicking her legs and resting her bottom lip on her chest. She was drenched from her hair to her upper thighs. I brought dry clothes because the school secretary suggested a complete change of clothing including undergarments and socks. She made it sound like a fun orgy of kinderkids spontaneously and like the summer of love playing in the water and soap with joy.

Sunny's teacher told me that Sunny was the only wet kid to come out of the bathroom and yes that is a large dollop of industrial strength cleanser in Sunny's hair. Mrs. C told the entire class not to play in the water several times. She stressed that in Sunny's case she had been reminded individually several times.

Pat and I went surfing while Sunny was at school. It was my first time in the ocean since July. I saw sea mammals cavorting and my husband soul surfing in the glittery pier waves. A woman twenty years my senior cheered me as I surfed by on my own little wave. Pat likes it how I hold my hands out to the side like I'm descending a staircase in an evening gown. He wanted to get the video camera out of the car.

Now Pat and my Dad are playing tennis and I am babysitting Sunny and her BFF. They are not fighting and that makes me believe in God for sure today.

Oh, and a bunch of other little things all added together.

Tandem Surfing and Tandem Parenting

Pat is taking two weeks off. I am his playmate. That means I will be surfing and probably singing to ukulele songs quite a bit.

I have started writing a "book" in earnest. I don't know how to feel about it because it's not the "book" I thought I would write. I have a kids' book I want to do and then one about dogwashing and one about something else and one about something else. But I'm writing about something else. Surprising really.

I'm hoping this two week boot camp surfing and spouse time will snap me back into a healthy happiness like it did when I first started surfing in April. I spent a few weeks feeling like some sort of sporting goddess. A goddess could probably write a really good book.

There is a dog in my new book. Charlotte.

There is an ocean in my new book. Pacific.

There is a friend in my new book. Branca.

There is not enough dialogue but I'm working on it.

This late-start Monday means that Pat is getting Sunny ready for school while I sit here in my hot pink fuzzy bathrobe drinking coffee and typing a blog without guilt or panic. Sunny has decided to be a pterodactyl today so she is swooping and shrieking and arguing that pterodactyls don't brush their teeth.

But what if they have dragon breath? And what if they keep shrieking their dragon breath in my face while I'm blogging.

"Go brush your teeth!"

I feel like I'm always yelling at her. So it's a good thing that before my Mom left town for Alabama to see her Mom for a week that she left me a book about how to stop your kid from whining (it goes with the strong-willed child book I got last month) and a cut-out Family Homes & Nosiness magazine article with listed ideas about how to spend one-on-one time with your child. Cuz I need those pointers. Or I need them for my next "book."

Caved In

Hiding her Thumbs

This is a paparazzi photo of the new-to-me star Megan Fox. I think. She's beautiful and has a new underwear ad campaign coming up that we can all look forward to. But. My guess is that you won't be seeing her thumbs in those ads.

Do'y'wanna'know'why?

Because someone said her thumb looks like a toe. Now look at her leaving a restaurant on a normal non-underwear modelling afternoon. Poor thing. I'm sure they are as beautiful as the rest of her.

Which we will be seeing soon in underwear.

If I hadn't mentioned it before.

Meanwhile. I'm trying to stay mellow for once. Sitting in a sunny spot listening to a ukulele cd I found in the back of one of Pat's uke songbooks. Fascinating stuff because the guy that wrote it is obviously a historian and great writer. Ian Whitcomb. Use to open for the Stones and the Beach Boys but not with his uke. That came a little later.

When Pat plays his uke for me or for anyone it makes me happy.

And even though Pat's big toes look like monkey thumbs I think he's beautiful. He should do an underwear ad.

Diamonds on the soles of her claws

Rolling with the Roiling

Today when I drove across the street to retrieve Sunny and her buddy from kindergarten I got discombobulated. Hypersensitive. Anyway. It took us ten minutes of walking and me trying to get the two motormouths to listen before I realized that we were walking home and the car was parked on the other side of the school because I was just in too much pain to walk over to the school across the street!

The girls thought this was the best thing that happened all day and laughed that mostly loud inhaling laugh all the way back to the car. But in my success column is that I still went to the bank and post office with them instead of hiding back in the house (the one that's just right across from the school--easy walking distance really) for another important and quickly passing us like so much sand business day.

Yesterday I went to my favorite store with my friend David Bowie (if you are a long time reader you might remember I mentioned her before). The store was displaying their new, um, miscellaneous toy. Kind of along the lines of the bass that sings Christmas songs on the wall plaque. But there was no plaque. There was a stuffed toy dog rolling over and back and over and back laughing hysterically and then almost catching his breath and gaining control just to get tickled and riled up all over again. It. Was. Hilarious. But only 35% of the time.

In my success column at the store I shall now call One Dog Laughing is that I continued to have a good time with my buddy and really only experienced low level slow rolling waves of anxiety. Which was nice for a fresh look at things.

Lobster Obsession Starts Today

I'll wear this to my first big press conference after the book releases. Maybe I'll take Pat and Sunny on a tour of bookstores between here and, um, New York.

Late Start Monday a.k.a. Early Blog Monday

So Sunny's school has this "late start Monday" thing every week. We start school an hour later! As I have since school started in late August, I forgot until I was up trying to work out my stiff body kinks and searching for a hot caffeinated beverage. An extra hour!!!! Sunny and I are maxing and relaxing with Elmo and the fireplace and well she just has her undies on. That's how she relaxes. What can I say?

Yesterday I went to my bedroom to try some meditation and breathing techniques to stem the tide of oncoming PANIC and during the one second of quiet brain a phrase said itself really loudly in my head. It said, "Felt Board." And my eyes popped open and my body felt very still and alert. But not panicky. That could be the pharmaceuticals I take to stop the panic though. So, felt board. I'm going to have to do some thinking about what that means to me/Candi today.

I know what felt boards meant to me in Sunday school. I think I've even written about it in an ancient blog post or maybe just an old writing exercise. Christy, or other friends with my email, do they still use felt boards to tell Bible stories to sunday school kids? I wonder if I contacted East Side Church of God in Anderson, Indiana if they would have any old felt boards with some extra Noah's and Saviors in the attic over the gymnasium that was there when I was little and my Mom was the church secretary. I use to spend a lot of my summer vacation playing in the empty church. Playing and avoiding the custodian. Because it's weird to be caught singing to yourself or playing with a sunday school felt board by some custodian. You never know how the custodian may react.

be back after i process that memory...

My hands hurt too much to blog

Vintage Dogs by Vintage Artists: my heroes

I haven't done any painting since moving into my peeps' house in September. But I've done a lot of drawing with my sacred sharpies. I know that I should have all the links to these great artists' works on my blog but it's my blog and I have been trying to post these pictures for a week and now I can't find where I saved the link (which would make me a more ethical blogger). I found them by googling vintage dog art. So you could if you wanna.

My mom and dad took Sunny and her new bestest buddy to the big zoo a few hours away. They left about ten minutes ago. I feel like a large symphony with kettle drums at the then just finished and the applause has turned to murmurs and rustling. I don't know what to do first. Take a valium. Take a bath. Take a walk. Take my cell phone and throw it against the wall. Any one of those things would be just a-ok.

I Shouldn't Spend the Money But I AM Walking a Lot Nowadays