normally i'm allergic to anything that smacks of "whimsy." artwise. whimsical, cute, sweet....any of these words will send me to the Testosterone Temple looking for a blowtorch to set things right. (in my OWN art). but this little creature came out of my hands a few weeks ago. She's part of a series, apparently, of Patron Saints. They are creating themselves (with the help of my hands) effortlessly and without regard to my No Whimsy Policy...clearly posted somewhere in the mess i call my studio. She is St. Ani Log - Patron Saint Of Too Much To Do. she has a very artworthy home to go to already, having established that fact with the 1st moment of her conception. if you've seen my studio, you know that conception was nowhere near immaculate. That's what happens when you let a Jewish girl loose in a studio filled with glue and doodads, and Patron Saints are afoot. i guess. well, half-Jewish. and here it's the High Holy Days...oy vey. so this must come from my mother's side, although there wasn't much religion in the bush country of Canada where she grew up. Joining her is The Patron Saint Of Speeed...St. O'Dometer. and soon to be finished - St. Aloe Purel...Cleanser Of The Soul. but vhat do i know, eh? so i just thought i'd catch you up quick....i'm still tryingto get diva dog to eat, and this will entail much bribery and eventually scrambled eggs. she's sulking & pouting in the closet now. sooo glad i do not have children. (of my own). i swear i'd be doing time somewhere. i should be doing Something artsy right now, but having struggled with my computer for THREE HOURS last night just made for a long day today. i would have launched it from the second floor, but husband rescued it in time. my ranting could be heard across the cul-de-sac. husband is out of town for 3 days and the urge to call in sick is overwhelming. seeing as how i'm on their last reserve nerve in that regard now, i'm not going to shake that hornet's nest. this week. although a relapse may not be out of the question. oh! oh! please read the post about the Birthday Cake Rodeo, and then answer this simple question: how wrong was it of my boss to inform me that Sunday is Julie's birthday, and should we get a cake for her fri or mon? note that she said "we." "WE" know that means "ME" and that particular request is so out of line that i felt completely justified in hanging up on her, stalking across the building to her office (where MY art hangs on her wall) and giving her the loudest glare i could muster. this was definately a 4-star Mom-glare. the laser glare of death. Be very afraid. i lifted an eyebrow for effect and stalked back to my desk in my cubby. Safe place Safe Place. somewhere in the back of my mind, i already know that i will be struggling with a 90-lb yellow cake with strawberry filling and 18-lbs of icing. along side a cake-lette. (big Charlie Brown sigh). the worst part is that the damn thing costs as much as it weighs, and last time everyone kicked in for it - not. no. this will not be my turn. every year at 911, i ended up SOMEHOW being the Secret Santa coordinator. the Jew, with her Jehovah Witness helper. how is that right?? and every year SOMEONE forgot it was Secret Santa day and forgot their gift to exchange. except the one year when someone was so outraged by their gift that they wanted to make a formal complaint - union rep & all. i was called in and was supposed to give up the names of who had who, so the proper person could be punished. all this over a can of freaking Spam. i told them that only Santa has the list and he's back at the North Pole, and that the gift-ee actually hadn't gotten their REAL Secret Santa gift....that the one they'd opened was from an anonymous elf and not part of the exchange. not only could i not believe i had to have that conversation with adults, i can't believe i'm boring you with it again right now. this birthday cake thing has gotten my mind going in treacherous directions. so i'm going to try to find diva and just give up the eggs at the beginning and save us both from the nightly hokey pokey of the whole dinner game. how about a patron saint of Please Doggie Eat Something So I won't Feel Guilty About Ignoring You While I glue Things Together For Hours On End? too long a name? i'll work on it. my mind is clearly in a jumble tonight, so i'll go now before i say something really crazy. hopefully i can come up with some Deep Thoughts for my next post to restore your faith in me. (geez, there's a whole religion theme going around here). okay bye. Linda
