When she returned to her room from the bathroom, Claire left her door open just a hair, barely enough for her cat, Caroline, to nudge it the rest of the way open. Caroline moseyed in and made her way to Claire at her desk, where she rubbed her side against Claire’s leg until she reached down to pick her up and nuzzle her face into Caroline’s soft gray fur.
“You’re right, sweetie, it’s time for a break,” Claire said. She softly closed her laptop and scooted her chair back, hugging the cat closer as she stood. Once on the stairs, Caroline struggled for freedom, so Claire let her leap to the landing and continued down on her own.
Her sister Melissa was in the kitchen, mixing something foul in the blender. “Mom needs more sugar if you’re going to the store today,” she announced.
“I’ll go to the store if you stop with the stupid smoothie diet,” answered Claire.
Melissa shrugged. “I’ve lost three pounds this month AND my hair has never been healthier. Pick me up some bananas and kale?”
Claire shook her head and trudged to the fridge, where she perused for long enough to let her stomach growl Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. She finally selected the last slice of leftover pizza and decided against microwaving it. Caroline trotted in to see if Claire was eating anything good, but since she was not a fan of veggie pizza, she continued on to her food bowl.
Wiping the crumbs from her hands, Claire grabbed her purse from the kitchen counter and checked her front pocket for her phone. She slid into a pair of flip flops by the front door and snagged her keys from the hook and was out the door before she could talk herself into giving Melissa a piece of her mind.
“Kale, bananas, sugar,” she muttered to herself as she started her car. She wondered if she herself needed anything, but came up with nothing. Claire shrugged. At least the grocery store was only a few blocks away, and she could browse until she figured out what she was cooking for dinner. Tonight was her night to cook for the three of them.
Well, I guess it’s about time to get back into this. OLWG #68 You wanna know something even weirder? Today is exactly one year since I participated. Spooky.
Isn’t it funny that the day I decide to come back and tell you all that I’m alive is the day I log in and WordPress tells me happy seventh blogoversary? Anyway, I’m alive.
What’s the earliest thing you remember?
I don’t remember much of my early life. My sister was born when I was three years and eight months old, and I don’t remember anything before her. I think I only remember one thing before kindergarten, and that was moving to our first new house in Oklahoma, something that seems pretty dang memorable.
I remember bits and pieces before I was ten. After that I can remember whole days and weeks, and the months and years have a story flow to them.
The summer I was nine years old, my grandmother gave me a copy of Oscar Wilde’s Fairy Tales. I dreamed about it last night, about the sound of my aunt Jurate’s voice as she read The Happy Prince aloud to me.
“Swallow, swallow, little swallow…”
I remember her slapping my hand as I sat on the couch next to her, snapping at me not to pick at my toenails, and then returning to the story as though nothing had happened.
I woke up too early this morning, and I knew exactly where the book was. I tried to retrieve it from the shelf as quietly as possible so as not to wake Ian, even though it had an RC helicopter sitting atop it and another knickknack sitting in front of it. I thought I did well until he rolled over. I apologized and read half the book before setting it on the stack on my nightstand to contemplate.
I read The Happy Prince in my aunt’s voice, and I remembered the tears I shed for The Nightingale. I traced the illustrations and remembered how the Charles Mozley influenced my style at the time.
I’m going to go finish reading it now, and to think about how many of my memories revolve around the printed word.
And picking at my nails.
We’re at the Verizon Arena in North Little Rock tonight for Carly Rae Jepsen and Katy Perry; it’s a new experience being the average age in a crowd of concert-goers. We’re usually the youngest people, like at Peter Frampton.
Y’all. This place is full of adult couples. And older adult couples. And families with kids. And packs of teenage girls chaperoned by the unluckiest mom on the block.
The couple in the seats in front of us have just arrived; it’s forty-five minutes to showtime. I feel so grown up and got-my-shit-together looking at them. Their iPhones are our iPhones’ great-great-grandparents.
And they just asked us to take a picture of them so I cannot possibly talk shit about them. They’re too cute. She has a darling ribbon rosette jacket over a black and white dress. He has a man bun, black plastic-framed glasses, and a neatly trimmed stage between five o’clock shadow and actual beard.
The couple behind us is supposed to be seated on our row, but they’re old and are still learning how to work smartphones. Someone will figure it out eventually.
There are so many blinking purple and red kitty cat ears in the audience. It’s going to be awesome when they turn the lights down.I have never seen such generous portions of chicken strips at a concessions stand. And funnel cakes that look like pies.
A girl two rows down has no qualms about showing all of us behind her nudes as she scrolls through her photos.
Thirty minutes to showtime. I am so stoked for all the little girls here that are so excited they’re about to burst.
I just photobombed the cute couple in front of us. It was an accident. We all laughed about it.
I’ll let you know how the concert is.
New year, same old stuff.
Here’s Megalomaniac, acrylic and iroshizuku ink on 11×14 canvas board.
In my mission to post more in 2018, I grabbed three pages of handwritten who-knows-what from the dresser to see if I’d already published any or all of it.
I have, but oddly enough, it’s been exactly two years to the day since I posted the last page of what I picked up, Character Sketch #5. That one also has the email for Human Resources jotted on the back, the one I had to send my statement to a while ago.
Gosh golly, y’all, I gotta get back into this blogging thing. And seriously take a time out and email someone about why I’m not getting emails. I just spent way too much time reading old post and not writing this one.
Anyway, here’s Transient, acrylic on 16×20 canvas.
Definitely going to post more.
And maybe not have so much bulging disc in my neck.
And hopefully find out if I have lupus or what.
And walk more since I’m too tired to run.
And sketch more.