yaysockpuppet

Tick, Tock

2016-02-08T21:24:00.000-05:00

Painting by Randall Perkins

Tick, tock, a crow and a cock,

Sharing a tale of a corpse and a hen.

Sick, work, a hammer, a rock,

Bashing a skull or a shell or a friend.

Finding Yourself in Your Poison

2015-05-28T19:39:00.000-04:00

Sometimes feeling like you're "home" is finding that warm blanket with the fur that's like a stuffed animal's fur and the comfy slippers that you wouldn't even risk wearing to the dumpster out back. Sometimes those things are shaped like a glass with maybe some ice cubes and some special sauce up in there. Now if you know me, you would know that my special sauce up until a few years ago was Pabst Blue Ribbon. It was about as comfortable a drink as a girl could get. I knew the exact amount that needed to be consumed most evenings to make my face relax from a crazy day at work. Today, as I grow to ripeness and my body's metabolism seeks other opportunities I am forced to consider a low carb alternative to my routine. Vooodka! Diet soda mixers and calorie-free sports drinks seemed the logical way to go for dilution. I choked that stuff down, and it did the trick, but it left me feeling like a high school prom date and not like the sophisticated lady that I sometimes pretend that I am. Then one day a co-worker told me HIS special sauce; vodka and soda water with a bit of lime. Maybe I subconsciously knew this was a thing, but it never occurred to me that it could be MY thing. "Too simple!" my mind told me. I pushed back that thought and purchased the ingredients and made myself a drink using my OCD measuring method that comes from liking my face to feel loose in the evenings and having a day job. I immediately discovered that this drink was perfect. Refreshing and tasty. And it fights scurvy!

Maybe you're in your 40's. Maybe everyday beer drinking is making you look bumpier. I invite you to join me in this next chapter of relaxation.

Here's my poison:

A Dixie cup of vodka (two shots)
The juice of 1/2 of a lime
Soda water

Pour these ingredients into a tall glass over three ice cubes. Repeat if needed. Put your feet up. You're home.

Toads Ain't Got Thumbs

2015-05-11T19:46:00.002-04:00

What an asshole!

Remember that one time when I said I wasn't going to post blog-y stuff here anymore? Well, here we are... That awkward scene where Peter Gabriel plays in the background, I hold that boom box high over my head, and I hope that you'll still be there for me, even after all I've done and all I've said. I did post one thing on Medium. It was a dumb post about being a hypochondriac. Not stellar. The Medium idea was a sincere attempt at feeling more purposeful. Not a bad idea really, but I have enough to do without adding boutique blogging to the list. Can I get a whut-whut? Can I get a butt-butt?

Remember that one time (you don't because I didn't tell you) I agreed to do this one thing for this one place, and then I wanted to kill myself? Let's just make this into this story about forest creatures...

So the Forest Fairy Queen asked the toad to come show the court his fly catching skills and the toad was stoked and said yes and came up with ways that he thought would make fly catching this cool thing that people would really be into. Then the toad found out that the month before his fly catching demo the Forest Fairy Queen invited the lovely blue heron who wasn't actually blue because she was actually made out of actual gold to come show the court her amazing skills at creating public art and the court lost their shit and the butterflies made a garland of rare roses to drape around her to demonstrate how amazing she is. Then the butterflies burst into flames. I'm not sure why. I think because they JUST COULDN'T EVEN. The heron is just that awesome!

So that's where I'm at. The toad's fictional scenario is happening in June. And the toad applied for another ridiculous thing that he thought would be awesome that's also happening in June. He hasn't heard back from those guys. That one is not looking good for the shitty toad.

You know, we used to have these two little toads one summer when the kids were younger that we found and kept in a bucket with some rocks and greenery and shit. Small little guys. We bought them crickets from the pet store. We put a dozen in there at a time. Within seconds the crickets were devoured. We bought a shitload of crickets. They just kept eating as many as we put in there. Dozens of crickets. Probably cost about twenty bucks to feed these gross things before we let them go.

Toads are dicks and also needy. And whose mediocrity is consuming them from within.

Little disclaimer: Make no mistake, the toad is totally in love with the Forest Fairy Queen and the (golden) blue heron and thinks they are wonderful. The toad has some serious self-esteem issues and often feels more toady when he ventures out of the swamp and into the kingdom where there's so much talent everywhere.

Moving Day!

2015-02-15T13:42:00.000-05:00

Click HERE (or the banner) to go to the new site!

So I up and made a sort of website. It's still sort of a blog too? But it's like a REALDEAL site with its own domain name and shit! I still need to do some fine tuning and add a few more things, but it's where art and craft stuff will go. I re-posted some tutorials there for now and more stuff will be added soonish hopefully. I'm probably going to do my bitchy and/or ranty and/or drinky-funny posts on Medium. That's what I'm thinking for now.

So... this is sort of sad. It's not really a break-up because this blog will always be here. It's not you, it's me.

But I still want us to be friends.

R.I.P. Leelah Alcorn

2014-12-30T19:38:00.000-05:00

So if you haven’t heard about it already, there’s this kid who committed suicide called Leelah Alcorn who lives really close to my mom. Near Kings Island, in Cincinnati. She was born with boy parts, but realized along the way that she was a girl. Thought that she was born inside the wrong body. Her parents didn’t want to believe this. They chalked all of this nonsense up to “a phase”. Said that, “God doesn’t make mistakes.” Her parent’s friends called her “selfish”. She was very talented. She was very intelligent. She was very creative. She wasn’t selfish. She wasn’t going through a phase. She was who she was. She was a she. Was a she. Was a she. Parts is parts is parts is parts…

She needed parents who loved her. Not judged her. Who loved her. Not judged her. Who loved HER!

HER!

JESUS moms and dads! Grieve for your sons and daughters who died to be reborn as your daughters and sons before you are grieving for your fucking corpses!!!

Any parents who want to write to me to correspond about what it’s like to be a PROUD parent of a successful and amazing transgender kid, contact me. We’ll figure it all out together!

yaysockpuppet@gmail.com

P.S. I think Jesus would fucking LOVE my kid! Amen.

Cha-cha-checkin' In

2014-10-31T20:05:00.000-04:00

Completely normal photo of me with my shit at Elm and Iron

Oh geez. It's been so long. Don't we get so wrapped up in our business? Our busy-ness? Our biz-naaaazzzzz? Sooo, where did we leave off? Oh yeah, my non-domestic life partner left my work space and squashed my very essence. Just kidding! I talk to her all the time. And I'm practicing "non co-dependent behavior" and "self control". I think I'm growing? Maybe?

So much has happened! Like I got some surgery. I went in to get one hernia hole fixed and got TWO hernia holes fixed. It's like a two for the price of two deal! Can I take a moment to rant about how much OSU sucks for outpatient surgery? Guess what, assholes... A girl who has had four holes poked through her belly and two patches tacked and stitched inside her body cavity might not be super ready to leave an hour after getting to the recovery room. And if I ever see that nurse who bitched about me grabbing her arm too tightly after trying to get up and out of the hospital bed to get my shit together... Oh, I will SO drop some rhymes on her. You can't stop me. Was I so pissed that I never went back for my follow-up visit because I was so pissed because everything sucked so bad there and I hate them? Did I mention that I was pissed? And that I hate them? Grrr... Note to everyone who thinks they need hernia surgery. OMG, DON'T DO IT!!! I would rather have lived with my slightly painful purple belly-bubbles. Pros: FIFTY PERCOCET! At least they did that right.

Stuff, stuff, stuff, then I got to participate in my very first trunk show!!! This was huge for me and made me so happy and then so stressed out and then so happy! I was asked by Elm & Iron to participate in an event called Wicked Wares. I had to do it. Who gets asked to do a thing like this when they are relatively washed up in all things art-related? And in one of my favorite stores in Columbus? Shit, man. I might have peed a little bit after reading that first e-mail. I got a mess of stuff together and made my brain try to have low expectations so that I wouldn't try to develop new bad habits if things went shithouse. The event turned out to be so fun! Like REEEALLY fun!!! And I made a little over a hundred bucks which was my secret goal. And I made new friends which is of even MORE worthiness!!! I rule!

I'll leave you with a few picture gems from the last month or so. I'll try to post something funny soon about my experience so far on the Atkins Diet. Man, there's some material there...

I love you!

Here's me on a pile of Percocets. Great time for a selfie!

Winston as part of the black and white photo challenge. So photogenic! (not so much...)

Can you guess the theme? Is it "the greatest co-workers ever?" That's one answer.

Sex toy or dog toy? Thanks to the dishwasher for making things weirder.

This kid.

Goodbyes Are Like a Sucky Monster

2014-09-05T09:03:00.001-04:00


The things this lady has had to do for her job!

Working for a non-profit is, by nature of being a non-profit, sucky.

Sucky?

A flat tire. You can’t get a signal on your phone. You know how to change a flat tire, but you’ve never had to do it all by yourself. Alone. At night. With the crickets chirping. And the frogs croaking. By the swamp. You wonder how something can look both simultaneously serene and deeply unsettling. But there it is. Barely beyond the side of the road. You can just catch the moonlight reflecting on the surface. Near your broken-down car. What was that? Did you hear it? It must be your imagination. Or is it? You lean over to use the tire iron to wrestle off the lug nuts. There’s the sound again. You stand slowly. You walk around the car to the side of the road. The side nearest the swamp. You grip the tire iron more tightly with your now sweaty hands. A twig snaps. Your heart beats faster. Suddenly, the swamp monster comes out of the darkness, its mouth a gaping circle of teeth and lips and hunger. A sucking sound comes from deep within its mouth, from deep within its soul. Hungry, as if needing to fill a void as deep as the pit of hell, it attaches to your head like a flesh vacuum and works its way down your quivering body, ceasing only when it reaches your shoes. It never eats the shoes.

You know… like sucky monster sucky!

You can only work so long for a non-profit before running for dear life, often grasping a tire iron. You certainly can’t do it alone. You need a family. You need support. Sometimes that is not even enough. Allison was my corporate “better half”. She leaves Open Door today to work for the Wexner Center for the Arts. I am sad beyond measure. It’s like having your arm cut off or your heart cut out, just a little bit, not enough to kill you, but enough to make it hurt. And it does hurt. We’ve been through so much together. When I say, “We’ve seen some shit!” I mean that both figuratively and literally. So much shit. It’s impossible to put words together to express what her co-workerness and her friendship has meant to me. She has made me a better person. She has helped me grow. She will continue to be in my life, but I will slowly release her from my work-heart so that it is less painful. So that I can be effective.

I wish you all the best at your new job, my wonderful and talented sister! Please continue to e-mail me every weekend or I will find a sucky monster to pay you a visit! And all of the massive amount of tools in your trunk won’t save you, mwaah haa haa!

At least you’ll have your shoes.

Leaving Again

2014-07-06T22:07:00.000-04:00

Where's Yoyo? Yoyo!!!

I guess I should be used to the semi-quarterly heart stomp that is a kid coming from/going to college. Should be no big thang. Still weird though. Honestly I can't figure out if it's heart ache or heart swell. One is a needyclingingco-dependentsadness. The other is a ohmygodmykidisbecomingindependentproudness. Two sides. Same coin.

The currency of letting go.

It's a process. For both parties. We continue to pretend like all of this is no big deal. But it is all a big deal. This is where we get to test the multitude of experiments that encompass the science of parenting. Did they mostly turn out o.k.? Do they routinely make good choices? Do they smell more-or-less presentable?

So my kid got a dog. Would not AT ALL have supported this decision, but this particular child is ATE UP for dogs and did the research and redtapework needed to have a dog on campus. It's a good dog. A sweet, fuzzy type of thing. Curly tail. Orange. Therapeutic.

Winston is already missing his best friend. His brother. He is proud of him for getting to go to college. He is happy that he gets to make new friends. He worries though. Will Yoyo be accepted? He barks. People hate barking. But he will certainly win them over. He has a sense of what it takes to make people like him. Not in a co-dependent way but in a "tell people what you think they want to hear" kind of way. Like that.

Alex and Yoyo will be awesome. They are awesome. Forever and ever. Amen

I (we) just miss them...

"Sharon, it's only been a few hours."

"I know."

Facetime

2014-06-15T18:07:00.000-04:00

Sunday is funday! I finished the final projects for job #2 by lunch, so Dave and I went to North Market for Father's Day noms. YUM! Origins Game Fair was in town at the Convention Center so people-watching at the Market was at a premium. We played the games "Collect the Mobys" (counting men who look like Moby) and "Are they a bearded hipster or are they a homeless person?" (I know! It's hard!). After our foods, we traveled all over downtownish Columbus collecting faces. The ones in the photo above are from various buildings downtown and the new Columbus Architectural Salvage (even better than the previous location!). I know it's supposed to be Dave's day, but I so needed this.

Tonight we're going to see the amazingly funny Michael Ian Black. I might have to wear a Depends because I predict I will have some extreme laughter and I am seriously behind on my Kegels.

#bestfathersdayever #andiamnotevenafather #butiworkreallyhardandideserveabreak

Getting Stuff Done!

2014-05-24T07:02:00.000-04:00

Winston's dreaming about making art!

I'm listening to Genesis right now. Abacab. I've (no shit!) been thinking about this album for the last few weeks. Then one of my friend's kids who's in a band, while traipsing about town as musicians do, bumped into and got his photo taken with Phil Collins. Whaaaaat? So of course I took it as a sign and downloaded the first Genesis album I ever owned. My brother had the older Genesis albums. One of them even had Peter Gabriel on it. The older ones are GREAT, but there's something magical about Abacab. Maybe it's because it's so "my time". When a kid starts to pick out what SHE likes. The 80's. Well, not "THE 80's", but the EARLY 80's. When it was still cool to listen to Michael Jackson, to Journey, to Billy Squier. Before shit got weird. Before you hated your parents and before your wardrobe became black. Before you wanted to move to England and before you bought a guitar.

You know what I mean.

But what I meant to talk about is art.

Most of you know that I make stuff, but that it's not like "a thing". Like I don't try to "sell it on the internet" because I don't "have enough time to make enough stuff" to "have a real art career".

Garrrrrhhhhhhh!!!!

But lately, I've been looooonging to do nothing but make stuff. My own stuff. Not stuff with a deadline, but stuff that I want to make. With my own time frame. Stuff that might never get purchased, but created because I merely want to birth it unto the world. If no one wants it, I'll leave it on a park bench. I just want to make it. The stuff in my head. The stuff that never gets to be made.

The stuff that never gets to be made?

What a shitty notion! This is the saddest thing ever. Dead dreams. Ghost dreams. Taunting. Haunting. Why do we do this to ourselves? We say it's because we don't have time. We don't have the space. We are too busy. We are too tired. We can't afford the supplies.

These are all lies. But these lies kill us a tiny bit. And they steal tiny pieces of our soul.

NO MORE LIES! Make art! Here! Now! Today! Because you deserve to and because I say so!

I do not have enough time!
Bullshit! There are so many hours in the day. You probably poop every day? Bring a sketch book! Do you watch t.v.? Save that time to do the hands-on portion of your project. The stuff that you don't need a brain for. You'd be surprised how much downtime you really DO have in a day. Do you think the 1/2 hour of Facebooking you do on a regular basis could be downsized? I'll bet your friends will forgive you. Honestly, finding time is my biggest obstacle, but DAMMIT, I'm going to figure this shit out because I don't want my dreams to die. My dreams don't deserve it! Neither do yours!

I don't have the space!
Find smaller shit to make! Get a rolling cart to do your projects on top of and store your stuff underneath. Table top easels instead of floor easels. Trays of stuff that can be moved from the top of the refrigerator to your dining room table. If you are a creative person, you already should be on top of finding creative spaces to work. If your family and/or dog can't seem to stay out of your shit, maybe you can work in your bathtub? I'm pretty sure you'll think of something.

I'm too busy!
Bitch, please... We're all busy. Don't be that asshole that always says, "When I retire, I'm going to do _______!" because you could die tomorrow with a hole in the universe where your art was supposed to be. If the world explodes because of your universe hole, I'm going to be really pissed. See the section about about finding time and get this shit under control.

I'm too tired!
Unless you are sick and need the rest, this one is pretty much bullshit as well. You literally just need to make some coffee or do some jumping jacks or hula hooping for a few minutes. Listen to Justin Timberlake or something. I know you work hard and you often come home and just want to relax, but this art ain't going to make itself! And really, you are going to feel SO AWESOME when you start creating! If you forget what this feeling is like then it's been far too long and you need to start immediately!

I can't afford the supplies!
This one is tricky because shit is truly expensive. But if you're a painter try experimenting with using wood planks from Lowe's to paint on and use crappy paint from JoAnn's (I do!). Shit, use cardboard and call yourself a folk artist! If you can't afford clay and kiln time, use paper mache (practically free!). I almost love the challenge of seeing what sturdy thing I can create from shittier materials. At some point it almost turns into science. When you DO get on Facebook, you can always put out a call for other artist's leftovers. Artists are generally a very supportive bunch. You'll get what you need!

There! Were you just waiting for the encouragement? I was too! Let's make a pact right now to get on each others asses about making art!

RIGHT NOW! WHY ARE YOU STILL READING THIS?

If you ARE still reading this, you should read my friend Cat's latest post about the creative process too. She's super funny and amazing! Is it weird that we both posted art-making encouragement posts within 24 hours of each other? See! It's in the air!!!

So read that, but then seriously GO MAKE ART!

So, remember that time...

2014-04-09T21:25:00.000-04:00

I'm waiting for my picture I took on my new phone to make its way to my e-mail so that I can download it to my computer so that I can upload it to here. Joke's on the blogiverse... It's like not even a good picture. But it's a photo of what I'm working on. Well, it's a photo of my hand actually. I'm doing a painting for my friend's wedding. They're doing an exhibit in conjunction with their wedding. I'm pretty stoked. Shit, if anyone can make it all work out it's these two. My friend's been through a shitstorm, and he's been held up by this wonderful woman who I don't know well, but who I love because of what I intuit about her. Oh, I think I sent my picture to somewhere else. O.k. I fixed where it got sent to. Here it is.

I know, it's just a hand. Burn! A dirty hand! That's what you waited for!

Phhhewwwwhhh...

So my kid left me (again) yesterday/today. He went to Albuquerque for an internship. This was his first time flying as a real human (he was a tiny baby the first time, so it doesn't count). I was so nervous. I pretended I wasn't, but I was so nervous. I gave him so many tips.

Don't tell anyone you're only 18.
Read the NSA guidelines.
OMG, don't say you were born in Canada.
Pack your pepper spray in your checked bag. (He did not do this - this infuriates me! You are allowed to do this!)
Tell everyone that this is your first time flying so that they feel sorry for you and provide you with extra love.

So many things not packed. So many things unsaid. How do you do this? How do you just chuck your kid out at the curb and say "Good fucking luck! Don't take drugs! Stand up for yourself! Don't let people use you!" Holy shit! It's too much for a mother to absorb. It takes several days. And so many beers. He sent me a photo of his "furnished" room with his "bed"... God...

But he says he loves it there. He is ready for this. This stuff of adulthood. I am absolutely not ready. But I am trying to be ready. And I am preparing for it to happen again with the next one. The next child. God...

"It's a new dawn, it's a new day... It's a new life for me, and I'm feeling good."

My kids are really good kids. Like REALLY good kids. How did this happen?

Maybe because they saw struggle.
And they saw joy.
And pain.
And laughter through the pain.
And more laughter because that's all there was.
And coping.
And more struggle, but not not defeat.
Never defeat because they are capable of reaching the stars despite everything.
We believed in them. We believe in them. They can do anything. They can do all things.

If you can do anything for your children, it's to simply drink beers while they go take over the world. Stay out of their way. Send some money if you can. Tell them that you love them. Tell them that you are so proud of them. Drink beers so that you don't tell them that it's all too hard. That people are mostly shitty. Let them think otherwise.

Let them touch stars.

While your hands shake.

Red Skies At Night

2014-03-01T22:17:00.001-05:00


The boys.

Just me and the dog tonight. It’s weird. So when’s the last time we hung out here? I guess it’s been a little bit, right? Let’s do some updates.

The dog is less than 48 hours from a good ol’ fashioned ball snippin’. As I type this he is VIOLENTLY humping my leg. AND farting. I am not even kidding. Talk about the worse date EVER! At least in the top ten. That’s sad
I picked up the remnants of a failed dream last week. As much as I loved the idea, I do not have time to effectively stock an antiques case. I suppose we’ll put this one on the back burner for now. Is it self-destructive that I was secretly hoping one of the dolls in the case (on the left) would magically come back to me? So I lost a tiny bit of money. Totally worth it!
I GOT A FUCKING iPHONE!!! Part of me feels like a sell-out, but I am truly a better person because of my phone purchase. The phone makes me more confident. The phone makes me feel like part of a wolf pack. I have Instagram. I can play a fishing game. I can look things up anywhere. I can watch a video. I can ask it if there’s a Noodles in Grandview. And there’s at least one hundred things I don’t even know it can do yet. Game changer. I should do a blog post JUST on my iPhone.
Job is going o.k. Wallacehad a show opening last night. To say that it was successful would pretty much be an understatement. Oh, you might not know this… Wallace has a BUILDING-SIZED mural of one of his paintings (on a building- duh) in the Short North. Do I sound a little jealous? Maybe it’s because I am a little jealous. Just kidding. Maybe?

So in the morning when I’m in the shower I have tons of ideas for blog items, but at nighttime, right before I go watch the Hulu I have beer ideas for blog items. I promise I’ll be more attentive to your needs (like you care). I’ve been really S.A.D. lately. Gloomy winter = depressing blog posts that I quickly delete. It’s getting better. Red skies at night! O.k., well not TONIGHT, but soon!

Ripping the Throat Out of 2014!

2014-01-05T20:09:00.000-05:00


You said a mouthful, Winston!

So here we are again, my friends. Another year down the ol' crapper. Were you successful in achieving all of your 2013 hopes and dreams? I hopes and dreams that you at least came close. It's important to make goals, you know. But REALISTIC goals. I believe that you should make ten goals every year and then hope to accomplish HALF of them. I think that would be nice. And half is way better than none! That's MATH!

Let's see how I did...

I did not continue the "Don't Have Children, Get a Dog!" campaign. Not in a formal way. I DO continue to preach to those within my reach however. And it's something that I remain passionate about. Some day...
I did not come close to writing a book. I DID however become obsessed with the most inspirational writer ever. I will continue to read and read and read. We'll call that research.
Work out for at least 30 minutes a week? That's a cheat because my job is pretty physical and I'm hyperactive. So we'll say that's a YES.
I don't think I went to the doctor, but I DID go to the dentist.
I didn't make a funeral slide show, but I DO think the person I've put in charge of my funeral will come through for me if this is still left hanging.
I didn't create an urn, but I HAVE been saving supplies. I have a whole bag of my own hair! That's progress!
OMG, I DID find another pair of work pants! SCORE!
Score again! I DID start working a second job!
Etsy still down. Probably for forever. Probably whatever.
Fix one thing around my house? Dave is working on the roof and he got some scary trees cut back. That counts BIG TIME!

So all-in-all, not bad! My motto last year was "AIM LOW!" I think that helped me retain a bit of the ol' self-esteem.

On to 2014! Let's make ten more and see what sticks! My motto this year is "Aim For Stuff That You Should Be Doing Anyway!"

This first one is easy: SEE EVERY FILM MATTHEW MCCONAUGHEY HAS EVER BEEN IN! I've seen a few of them about a dozen times, but I'm going to make it my personal goal to see every last one of them. I'm going to start with Tiptoes. HOW have I NOT seen this yet?
I'd like to do something media-significant with my new dog (see above). That little fucker is cute as allgetout. He should probably be a model. Or at least the star of a comic. People lose their shit over internet stuff with animals. Perhaps it should be MY animal?
Break even with my antique biz. Honestly, this is the funnest hobby ever. If I just DON'T LOSE LOTS O' MONEY I will be so happy. So far, so good. Good-ish.
Keep up with all of the weird smells in my house. Be vigilant with finding aromatic resources. When the "big thaw" approaches, figure out the basement mold situation.
Get life insurance. Someone who talks about dying EVERY DAY should have more than the work-appointed life insurance that would barely pay off the credit card debt. What a dead asshole I would be.
On that note, finally finish and pay for my will on LegalZoom. I'm so sorry if you're reading this Mom. I still haven't done it. I bet my sister hasn't yet either. If I hurry, I can beat her. Then you'll love me more?
Eat three servings of vegetables a week. That aren't pickled somethingorother. Or that aren't lettuceoniontomato. Three is the magic number.
Buy all new socks. Like ALL new. Like I can keep a pair or two, but OMG, ALL NEW! ALL NEW SOCKS!
See something mind-blowing. I got to see the Quay Brothers introduce their new films two years in a row. That was pretty awesome. This year I want to see something that makes my head explode.
Be more grateful. I have so much to be thankful for. I'd like to figure out how to turn my gratitude into something more tangible. What would that look like? Let's think about that.

Things that I've accomplished that WEREN'T on last year's resolution list were to experiment with making a tiny video and THIS. I didn't even know these were going to exist when I wrote my list last year. Both things I'm happy about (even though the video was difficult and turned out awful).

What are some things YOU would like to accomplish this year? It's good to make goals. It's even better to share them. You can do it!

Or at least HALF do it! Go you!

All I Want For Christmas Is A Fresh Start

2013-12-25T16:37:00.000-05:00

statue of baby Jesus, c. 1685

The birth of that tiny, holy baby has me all wrapped up in the idea of new beginnings.

"What would an 'old beginning' look like? Do you even need to say 'new beginnings'? Wouldn't the 'new' be implied?"

"I don't know. People say 'new beginnings', don't they? OMG, just let me get back to my fucking story! You're ruining everything!"

As I was saying, a new beginning, like a baby being brought into the world to cleanse humanity of its iniquities*. A new lens in which to view an arduous road ahead. A new outlook to shoo away the grey clouds that have hovered over my existence for the last 2+ months.

Fifty Shades of Grey clouds, to be exact.

So my next door neighbor who I talk to over our fence about shitty men and divorce and whatnot told me to "hold on, I have something you might like to borrow!". She came back seconds later with the three-book set of Fifty Shades of Grey. I'm all like "uh.... thanks!" I was currently reading Nineteen Eighty-Four and hating every minute of it. Like I started really hating George Orwell**. I thought if he were alive today he'd be a 40-year-old skateboarder who stood for things I normally roll my eyes at. I finished the book though because I can't not finish a book. Honestly, after Orwell, I was so pissed at "real books" that I was eager to read Fifty Shades. Shit, I read all the Twilights, and this was supposed to be like the same thing with some kinky shit. I was down.

If I told you that these books were a huge waste of my time I'd be a liarliarpantsonfire. I'm a girl. I enjoy this shit. But three books?! OMFG, I am so glad that I am now over and done with this business. Dave bought me the 2013 re-issued FIRST NOVEL that Harlan Ellison ever wrote. THAT I am eager to devour. I also bought a small Kindle with my 2nd job Christmas Amazon gift card (thanks Activity Connection!!!) with which I will soon download the entire library of Sandman comics. And think about my new beginnings.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

*If you read this post before today, the 29th, you would have read "inEquities", and you would have thought, "What a moron!" Maybe you came back to see if I fixed it? But you have probably already told all your friends what a dumbass I am.

**I also really hated Animal Farm.

2013-12-08T20:17:00.000-05:00

Our new dog, Winston, in the roughed-out background of one of my shadow boxes for The Columbus Museum of Art's Wonder Room project. Notice his enormous Johnson.

A few weeks have past since I last typed at you. It seems like forever. I think you might have grown a an inch? Maybe a little more? While we're on the subject of your appearance, you look good. Like REALLY good. Remind me to ask you about your regimen. It's apparently working well for you. Seriously.

I have been workingworkingworking 9 to 5 then 5 to 9. For like a while now. And you'd think I would say no to a few things. But no. Some things are hard to say no to. It's o.k. I like to stay busy. I just read on some Facebook link this thing where people say what they regret most on their deathbeds, and I think one was something like, "I wish I didn't work so hard." I think one of mine might be, "I didn't say yes to enough things." Some people are just wired weird.

But it's hard on those close to me. Saying yes to other things means saying no to important things. Family things. It tears me in two. I feel selfish. There is no win/win. There's sort of like an uncomfortable smile like in a group photo and a tarnished trophy. Neither seem worthwhile or valuable. But I can't stop myself. If I had a dime for every time I said, "After _______ I promise I'll be less busy." then I'd have a big container full of dimes. I life-size container. A heavy, heavy life-size container full of crappy dimes.

GARRRRHHHHH! And of course a fucking Radiohead song comes on while I'm typing this. And here's me without something sharp.

Just kidding.

OMG, we got a puppy!!! Not just any puppy. It's the cutest puppy in the whole world of puppies. I'm not a dog person, so I can make this judgement. Our puppy is the cutest. It's a Boston Terrier/French Bulldog mix. Which makes it the most perfect dog that is not a Pomeranian. And for whatever reason, he has a really large penis. I think that makes him like a superhero dog. Did you know that puppies like to pee and/or poop in heating vents? I just recently discovered this. Also, the best toy for a puppy? A Swiffer. You can clean while your puppy bites and/or rides on this cleaning supply. Who knew?

O.k., so one of the projects that has made me a crazy person for the last month is this commission for the Columbus Museum of Art's Wonder Room. I created two shadow boxes that will be installed in their interactive area for the next three years. And while that might sound impressive, it's actually 100% nepotism that allowed me to obtain this gig. But holy shit, this had been the NUMBER ONE MOST DIFFICULT PROJECT I HAVE EVER WORKED ON! You just cannot sketch a concept for this kind of work. I really felt close to my hero, Michael deMeng, during this process. He always mentions that he likes to just dump out all of his bits and pieces during the fabrication of his work. I couldn't really figure out any other way to do this. You know what sucks for a large-scale project such as this? Working on your dining room table. BUT IT'S FINISHED!!! It makes our dining room look so clean now! I am supposed to tell people that they can't come to see the Wonder Room until January 1st unless they are members. You'd think that there'd be some event to link you to for a project of this scale? Not at this time however. But the opening is this Saturday. But just for members. That much I am aware of?

Hey, this has gone on for a while. Who wants to read a bunch of stupid information in one post? Not you! You have more growing to do! Next post will be funnier I think. Thank you for being so patient.

Advice To Young Adults

2013-11-17T20:40:00.000-05:00

Empty Nest

So lately I feel like every time I talk to my college kid I'm desperately pelting him with last minute advice that might not ever have been given or that might not have stuck. I just don't know. It feels so random. "DON'T SMOKE CRACK!" Or, "DON'T FORGET TO LAUGH!" Desperate doesn't even come close. You send these kids out unto the world and hope that they don't fuck up. You are helplessly helpless. Tied. All you can do is say rosaries and think, "Don't fuck up! DON'T FUCK UP!" Some things that I've pelted MY kid with seem to apply to most kids. Maybe YOUR kid?

Here goes...

Be funny, or at least be someone who laughs.
Jesus, I went to a potluck at a hipster house one night. There were a couple of dozen people there. They were all talking about fracking or Republicans or some shit so I made a joke. You would have thought I took a big shit right there on the floor. It was like the commercial where everyone stops talking and looks at the smart dude who knows how to invest (ironic, because these people would probably hate that this reference involves investing). They had NO time for my humor. There was just "too much suffering in the world" for someone to make jest. I just could not wait to get the fuck out of there.

BE FUNNY! Be VERY funny. Life is so short. You could die tomorrow. Yes, you. Be the guy who made people laugh, not the guy who bummed everyone out at every public appearance. There will always be suffering. Be funny to the people around you today. Bring light. BE light. Even if you are feeling dark inside, you can be light for others. Do that. And if you are not someone who is naturally funny... laugh at those who are. Surround yourself in light.

Take chances.
I was originally going to call this, "Don't be a pussy!" Take a risk! Get good at failing! Fail a lot! Succeed occasionally. Just. Keep. Trying!!! Don't take no for an answer. Tip a table over if needed. Ask, ask, ask. It's true that "The worst they can say is no." Your ego will get bruised, but know that those that take chances are far more awesome than those who never tried. And know that failing is how great people have gotten to be great. Be great!

Don't be an asshole.
Believe in what you believe with all of your soul. But don't be an asshole. There will be a lot of people who don't understand you. There will be a lot of people who don't agree with you. There will be some people who will persecute you. Let them have their opinion. Yes, they are wrong. Yes, they do things we do not agree with, but we most likely will never change them. Should we take opportunities to educate? Sure, but be respectful. And if anyone ever physically hurts you, tell your mother. She will take care of them.

Pretend you care.
Be a good listener. Even if you truly don't care. Even if the person has told you the same story a dozen times. They need someone to listen. It is a very simple task that is worth a great deal to a person in need. You will be that person at some point. Be present for others.

Don't be a burden.
OMG, please be the one who occasionally buys coffee for a friend. Don't always be the guy with no money. You know what? Your parents would much rather transfer funds to your account than allow you to constantly scam off your friends. I speak for all parents.

Take some fucking initiative.
So you have a job. If you ask constantly, "What do you want me to do now?" your employers will hate you. I'm guessing by your first week you will have a pretty good handle on what gets done at your job. Show up and do that. And if you have time left THEN ask, "What else can I do?" You want to know how to piss off your employers? By having them constantly find shit for you to do. You know what would be nice? Looking around and finding stuff that might be helpful. The sink is gross. Clean it. The office supplies need restocking. Find out where they are kept and restock them. That stuff.

Manage your shit.
Don't wait for your parents to stalk your bank statements to notice that you have $1.34 in your checking account. Fix that shit. Or better yet, don't let that shit get to that state. If you don't have the money, don't buy it. It's not hard. You got into college, you should at least know that you can't get a tall mocha with $1.34. And you should clean your room. Like right now.

Stop scamming on crazies.
For the love of all things holy, stop dating people who need therapists. I mean, we all "need" therapists, but we don't all NEED therapists. Mothers just want their babies to be in stable relationships. We worry. You are too good for... Well, for everyone.

Call your fucking mother!
Remember when your step father bought you a new phone for graduation and jokingly said, "Call your mother!" And then you never called your mother? Our hearts break easily. Call your mother.

Spare Time

2013-11-08T21:02:00.000-05:00

Geez, so we went shopping. I had some stuff to get.

"Do people usually make a shopping list for the antique store?"

"I had specific items I was looking for. I made a list. I put the located items in a basket. I went to check out."

BUT this time there was a sign on one of the cases by the cash register that said, "FOR RENT".

Hmmm...

Out of curiosity, I asked the guy how much. He said $25 a month.

HOLY SHIT! I was paying nearly that much for World of Warcraft back in the day (a few months ago)! So I could do what I do in my house in a public space for only $25 a month? That's like a hobby price. And there's a possibility that I could make a buck?

We went to have wieners to think it over then doubled back to pay the first month's rent.

Within the first week I've made enough for a couple of bags of groceries! And I love it!

PLEASE come visit the case! I know that sounds lame, "visit the case!" But it will slowly morph into a carefully curated, super tiny space filled with items that are selected to create a creepy Americana aesthetic for your home. I sell toys, dolls, collectibles, taxidermy items, oddities, and of course, puppets. You know, things you need!

I'll be adding periodic updates with cool-ass shit that's going in the case! This week I'm adding a puppet, a frog skeleton encased in resin, an ashtray (in amazing condition!) made out of an alligator paw, and a street map of Columbus from the 1960's.

YAY!

Goddamn Boots

2013-10-28T20:37:00.000-04:00

I will never forsake you...

I swear it was like a science fiction movie backdrop. I was just trying to have a nice dinner with my man. A pleasant window seat at a decent restaurant. Upon the commencement of people watching we slowly became aware that almost every woman passing us was wearing boots. Like up-to-the-knee boots. Like maybe not every woman, but nearly. I think we estimated a reasonable 65%. And it would have for sure been over 85% if we took out women over 60 and the few ladies who were still clinging to their Tom's. Whoa! I started to look under the tables at our restaurant. OMG! They were in here too! Even the waitresses! Boot women have taken over the Short North! I started to laugh an internal maniacal laugh like in the movies where people are going crazy and they jerk their heads back and go, "HAHA-HA-HAAAA!!!"

Dave humored me with a chuckle at our analysis. He's a little more socially-savvy than I. I live under a rock. O.k., I don't live under a rock, I just live on the outside of a rock placed in maybe a John Hughes film. Boots to me are Dr. Martens. Practical. Comfortable. Air-cushioned soles. And Jesus, they never go out of style.

Or so I thought.

Apparently I now need a pair of these goddamn boots that all of the ladies are wearing. I don't even know where to start. I know for sure that mine will not have heels. Fuck that! You can't make me wear your boots AND expect me to feel like I need crutches at the end of the evening. Here's another obstacle. All of these women are tucking their pants into their boots. Whaaaaaat??? What sort of magical pants are these? I won't do the skinny jeans. Fuck that too! I am 45 fucking years old. I am working my way toward a wardrobe of flow-y clothes, and I'm not about to go back to having my ladybits pinched just to stay fashionably current. I want to imagine that these ladies are wearing pants that stop just below the knee, and if they are not, I think there should be a market for that. I expect there to be an infomercial for pants made for these fucking boots.

I put off my boot dilemma for a bit while we watched the Julian Assange film with Benedict Cumberbatch. Screw the shitty reviews, I really liked this film. But I adore Benedict Cumberbatch. After the movie ended, we passed by the busy lobby filled predominately with Asian kids. I immediately looked at their shoes. Not one fucking knee boot. Not one. But I saw some of the coolest shoes of the whole evening. I am completely fascinated with what Asian kids wear. Is that racist? One time I asked my co-workers if it was racist to like a certain culture more than ours. They assured me that it was. I like to think that it's sort of not. Whatever.

Boots.

I really think boots should have a purpose. I'm pretty sure all of my shoes serve a purpose. Actually I think every stitch of clothing I own has a purpose. I go fucking crazytown with shit that you put on a mantle, but with clothing... I'm completely utilitarian. I have work gym-ers, casual gym-ers (which are also sometimes work gym-ers), warm shoes with wool shit inside, a couple of shoes to wear with skirts/dresses, and I've narrowed my Dr. Martens to one pair. Well, one shoe-pair, and one boot-pair. If I buy a pair of shoes, it's because something's happened to one of the others in the rotation. They take up a tiny amount of valuable closet space. Simple.

I'm not doing it. Screw those fucking boots.

Ladies, your feet have told me that they hate your boots. They understand that they make you feel pretty and confident, but they assure me that they will exact their revenge. Maybe it's via a sprained ankle, maybe it's via you walking around like you were punched in the knees by the end of an evening. Your boots have spoken. They think you need a pair of Dr. Martens. And that you need to watch anything with Benedict Cumberbatch in it! Who just so happens to look good in boots. But probably only has one pair. Maybe two if one happens to be waterproof.

Shit-ken, I Mean Chicken

2013-10-06T21:46:00.000-04:00

Not even fucking kidding. No color adjustment.

What the fuck happened? I used to bring shit to potlucks and plop it down to oohs and ahhs. Eager faces would wait by the door with forks at the ready. What did she bring? Is it curry? Is it some awesome Italian shit? Is it something from some country we've never even HEARD of? And that shit's fucking VEGAN? WTF??? Is she some sort of goddamn WIZARD?

Flash forward.

I have a bunch of stuff going on now and jobs and whatnot. If dinner isn't either made by my amazing husband or cobbled together from leftover leftovers then it usually looks a lot like a bowl of cereal. Or pizza in a box. Or beers.

Sometimes it bothers me about not cooking. I used to really get a kick out of it. Creating things everybody gets to experience AND be nourished by... it's sort of better than art-making. If I look at all of the art I've ever made and all of the food I've ever cooked and compared the positive-reaction-rate. Well, let's just say that food's historically been a much better bet for this girl.

Until recently.

I tell stories to my husband about how I was once a really good cook. I've had a couple of successes which make me at least not look like I'm completely crazytown. But maybe he sort of feels sorry for me and "goes along with it". "Yeah, this is really tasty! I'm sure if I was into _________ then this would TOTALLY be something I could make a meal of." He puts some in a bowl. He is very nice.

And then I think, "I'll make chicken and dumplings!!! What human does not like chicken and dumplings?" I don't even add vegetables to my recipe because I want everyone to be able to add what they like. I like peas. Mine should have peas.

Fuhhhhhck!!!

A normal cook can make chicken and dumplings from chicken and shit they have in their pantry. Unless you're me and you somehow manage to make the most unattractive greenish-gray gunge that just happens to be made out of food. "Herbed" dumplings, I thought.

Indeed.

Why God? Is it because you're mad at me for eating chickens? You seemed to be into the squash soup I made two weeks ago. That went over well with two whole people. Maybe you have cursed me to never again make anything good unless it's vegetarian. There are whole parts of the bible where people eat the shit out of animals. Why me? Why can't I cook animals?

Oh, because I've never actually cooked animals. I've pretty much only cooked not-animals for almost all of my cooking life. Animals are literally a "different animal". It's actually a lot harder. They are like adding a whole different medium to an art piece. Like making an oil painting into a sculpture.

But you know what's good? Chicken wings. You can get them at the store or at the places that make wings.

"Please don't try this at home, Sharon."

"I won't."

Losing Grip

2013-09-29T22:59:00.002-04:00

Photograph of mother and child tamarin by Hans Hillewaert

Suh-suh-suh-SUHNDAY!!!

Havin' some beers and mentally preparing for the week ahead. This is the week that I lose grip of one of the most solid things that I've had throughout my adult life. Every time I'm alone I cry. It's selfish of me to be so needy. I know this. I just can't help it. My mom said to me on the phone today,

"Now you know how I felt."

I love her, and I don't want to diminish what she went through, but I don't think it's the same. We were not close during my teen years. This was my doing. I was an asshole. It was the 80's. "No one understood me!" I didn't hang out with my parents. We did not share interests.

My oldest and I have a unique bond. There are so many intricacies that are tied up in our relationship. I don't think there is anyone that could say,

"I know how you feel."

"The big day" is Tuesday. I drop him off at college. At Antioch. It's an all-day affair, the drop-off day. I think there might even be a segment for "grieving parents" or some such thing. I am bringing a camera. I want to take pictures of other parents grieving. It needs to be more real. More raw. I want more evidence. Then I want to file it. I want to move on. And I want to grow accustomed to letting go.

Moving on.

I've been thinking about art in relation to my children. Neither of them think that they have intrinsic talent. I disagree. Everything that they do is art. They have so much talent that it is some day going to burst their skins. They'll need to reconcile what they do casually as true art. They live and breathe it. Both of them. In very different, but very apparent ways. In ways that I for sure did not exhibit at such a young age. So much potential. I pray that there is a magical funnel for them. A magical wizard who will help them along their paths.

But seriously, moving on.

I am trying to think of this kinda/sorta death as an opportunity. I used to love making music when I was younger. I wasn't much older than my oldest child when I learned how to play. My tiny amp and guitar have been dusted off and are propped up next to my bed. I don't plan anything other than to touch them. To maybe write a song.

I'd very much like it if my first song could be to my children. A song of hope, with a dark reality that their hopes and dreams are waiting on the other side of a thick fog... Or maybe Mordor. But that they have access to the one ring that will make it all o.k.

This quickly turned pretty nerdy.

"This was a pretty heavy blog post, Sharon. You owe us a little levity."

O.k., here's a funny story...

You know how I am all ate up about Arcade Fire? It's true. They are one of my favorite bands. I posted the Reflektor video on Facebook because I wanted people to know that I liked that video because of reasons I thought were very cool - namely the paper mache heads and it being directed by Anton Corbijn, the dude who made the Control movie. That's what people do on Facebook. They try to make people know "who they are" by telling them what they ate, where they spent time, or what video they watched. I really liked the video. My SISTER totally Facebook dissed it. Like within minutes of the posting. And that SHOULD be fine. She's entitled to her opinion. Except that she ALSO dissed Arcade Fire in ANOTHER post of ANOTHER video that I posted about a year ago. WEIRD. Like the woman REALLY hates Arcade Fire. I sort of don't understand. They are a pretty easy band to like. What does my sister have against Arcade Fire? Does she hate Canada? Does she hate bands that have a ton of people in them? Does she just have questionable taste? We used to like a lot of the same bands. What happened?

Bottom line. The world is pretty fucked up. Then we go to college. We post of Facebook. We work. Then we die.

But it’s just a Reflektor.
Will I see you on the other side?

Sweet Dreams

2013-09-22T22:00:00.000-04:00

Yay, Fall! I mean like hooray, accessories, but HOLY SHIT I am QUAKING with coldness. Like the kind of shivering that accompanies finding a dead body and maybe recognizing said body. Like the body is that of a mom that you used to see at home school functions who used to talk about her husband's "anger issues". She used to talk about him throwing things around the house, "A dish thrower." she used to say. Often accompanied by nervous laughter.

I will power through this though. Even with the fingers a-jitterin' on the keyboard. Hmmm... I think it's time for some hot toddies? Cold beers are certainly not helping.

O.k., so I have been having CRAZY dreams. And I sleep like the dead. And I never remember dreams. But I have had TWO fucked-up dreams that I can't be rid of. Have I mentioned that I never remember dreams? Seriously, I never remember dreams.

The first features a kid from my high school in his grown-up, Facebook-friends version who, in my dream, died of AIDS. Do I ever think about this person? I do not. Do I have any idea why he would show up in a dream? I do not.

I fully expected to wake up and see that on Facebook so-and-so died. That he fought the good fight and was brave right up to the end. That he kept his sickness secret because he didn't want false sympathy while he went about reconnecting with his old friends.

But I went on Facebook to see that he commented today on a mutual friend's post about the recent Bengal's game. For sure not dead. And I would have to guess by his zealous nature, not sick.

SOOOOO... I went on-line to interpret this bit of nonsense.

To dream that someone else has AIDS signifies your need to be more compassionate and sympathetic to others.

Oh, I'm sure that's it. Because working every weekday with adults with disabilities isn't enough. WHO ARE YOU??? Who is this person I need to be more compassionate towards??? Just tell me. Tell me.

"Sharon, it's just an on-line dream interpretation resource. It may mean nothing."

"Oh, fuck you, voice in my head. Read on..."

And then I dreamed ALL NIGHT LONG LIKE I COULDN'T WAKE UP TO THINK OF HOT VAMPIRES OR CHILDREN'S BOOKS OR PURSES, I just dreamed all night long that I had a baby. Oh dear, sweet-baby-Jesus. And not just a regular baby. It was like a random, very thin baby that just showed up off and on and I was holding it. And I didn't have any supplies for it. Like I was at the airport (or maybe the hospital?) and I really needed to get somewhere, but I didn't have a car seat. I didn't even have a diaper. The baby was very limp. I thought it was dead, but it was actually just very chill. At some point I tried to breast feed it because I felt guilty about having nothing else for it. It seemed pretty happy though. It didn't seem upset that I'd forgotten about it.

Fuuuuuuhhhhhhhk!

I immediately woke up feeling like an AWFUL parent. I was absolutely sure that this meant that I was a failure. My children were starving for some something, and I was too inattentive to notice. But they were o.k. with everything. Because they were fucking used to it. That's what I thought this dream meant.

Well, according to the dream people, this is the verdict..

If you dream that you forgot you had a baby, then it suggests that you are trying hide your own vulnerabilities; you do not want to let others know of your weaknesses. Alternatively, forgetting about a baby represents an aspect of yourself that you have abandoned or put aside due to life's changing circumstances. To dream about a starving baby represents your dependence on others. You are experiencing some deficiency in your life that needs immediate attention and gratification.

She-yewwwww! I'm not a fucked-up parent! I'm just like YOU! As long as you're a slightly co-dependent, overworked, creative type. Yeah, just like you.

Samesies!

So maybe I'll be thinking about YOU tonight, my shitty friend.

Except that if I DO, it means that my teeth are about to fall out. I'm pretty sure that's it. OR that we both have cancer.

Reflektor - Can't Wait!!!

2013-09-20T21:35:00.000-04:00

Graffiti featuring the name of the new album

The release is a little over a month away...

This video (a teaser) is absolutely stunning. Anton Corbijn, paper mache heads, a coffin, some dolls. Arcade Fire. What more could a girl want?

Beers, Squirrels, etc.

2013-09-13T23:06:00.001-04:00

Here's a thing that happens. I drink a few beers then think about something that touches me emotionally, then I share that in a blog post. Usually it's about something that only applies to a small subset of persons that include me, maybe a guy who manages a comic book store, and that guy who always comes by himself to Ladies 80's.

Then I usually decide to delete the post the next morning (or to heavily edit at least).

But I've only had a COUPLE of beers, and I've been thinking about this bookoff and on all day (my co-worker Allison lent it to me). I've always been a David Sedaris fan, but this book in particular has been especially entertaining. It's written like a dark, twisted, miserable version of Aesop's Fables with often questionable admonitions. So far my favorite is the story about the two rats. I won't give anything away, but it doesn't end well. Most of the stories don't. And I think that is what I love the most. Real stories about real life. Told from the point of view of animals. Sort of.

Pick it up. I promise it is worth it. Mom, I think you'd like it.

Oh, and sort of related... Because this book made us think of the greater Sedaris family, Dave and I looked up old clips of Amy Sedaris on YouTube. THIS one was our favorite by far.

Happy Labor Day!

2013-09-02T21:37:00.000-04:00

original sketch by Charles Alston

Happy Labor Day! I hope you did SOMEthing relaxing and non-laborious. Ironically, I chose to benefit from the labor of others and used my 20% off everything coupon from Michael's to get items for a super-exciting project that I'm working on that I'll tell you about some other time. It's one of the 100 things that keep me grinding my teeth at night, but this one is totally worth it!

Welp, I put a motherforking video on the YouTube. OMG, it was a treacherous journey. Think of this scenario: You wake up groggy and there's no electricity in your house and you have to figure out how to make coffee. And you've never operated a coffee maker. And you're a baby. That's what it felt like. BUT I learned so much in the process. I feel like Louis learned a lot too. I want to keep working at it. I figure if teenagers have this shit down, I should be able to cobble something together. The next one will be better. And so on...

"The sound/video quality was total shit, Sharon."

"I know. I'll take that into consideration for the next time. I have pretty archaic equipment though. I have to make do with what I have."

"Louis wasn't even looking at the camera for MOST of the video."

"I am aware of that. We will try harder next time. This was his first time performing in front of a camera."

"Can you make it funnier? What's the point of doing a puppet show if it's not going to be funny?"

"I want it to be funny as well. Louis is very contemplative though. We'll see what he comes up with for the next time."

Subject change...

Hey, pre-holiday shoppers, my friend Judah's partner recently suffered a stroke, and he's putting together an Etsy shop called Charlie's Spot to help with hospital bills and whatnot. If you are someone who needs gifts, please check out the goods (but check now AND later as he's gonna be putting stuff in there all week). It's a super big win/win!!!

Now, to get back to cramming as much relaxation into the next hour or so before I check out before I check in.

THE FIRST VIDEO - HERE'S LOUIS!

2013-08-30T22:29:00.000-04:00

So there's SOOOOOO many things wrong with this first video, but the point was to MAKE A FIRST VIDEO!!!

Hopefully, things will get less shitty, and less shitty, and less shitty. Louis had a blast! He wants to make another one soon. Hopefully it will be better. He's not sure. He doesn't care.