Spring day

Today it rained. And rained. And rained. The grass is so green it almost doesn't look real. And this is from a Willamette Valley child - where green is the state color.

The plan was to call a friend of S.'s and go paint pottery. That didn't happen. So we called another one of S.'s friends. She is a loud little soul who would have cracked the pottery with her normal speaking voice, so we stayed at home instead. It was a very long afternoon. I was somehow talked into face paints at the store. So help me, my bathroom does not look the same. Still, I like to think that I'm a pretty laid-back mom. I want S. to have fun when her friends come over to play. I even let S. have her room a little messy from time to time - just because it isn't the end of the world. It is her space. It is inside my home, but she should be comfy there. And she is more comfy in a little bit of disorder. Although I do admit that once every two weeks, we have a "gutting the room" party.

I worked on a painting. I wanted something to put on my ever-growing gallery wall. My vision of a crazy library space is coming true. Or maybe more like a Parisian Bistro. Kind of cluttered. A little dark. A lived-in look. Oh heck - truthfully I just don't have the energy to keep a perfect home anymore. And the people I live with are not neat-nicks, so my "bummer dude" moods about cleaning are not always welcome. I've decided to relax. I clean the bathrooms and the kitchen. I do loads and loads of laundry, as anyone raised my my mother should. Just don't go into the spare room. Originally C. said I could have it as a craft room. I should have been wary. It is now home to no fewer than 4 computers, a conga drum, and a (living) teddy bear hamster. It is not a craft room - but a very decent start on a Sanford and Son re-make. My goal for summer is to remove the texturing from the walls and then retexture with something that doesn't resemble broken glass. Apparently, and I did not know this or we would have never bought this house - but the Marquis de Sade used to inhabit that room. The walls hurt. Truly. You can scrape yourself silly just changing the sheets on out pathetic excuse of a guest bed/futon. I've laid my skin open simply reaching for a book on our bookshelves. I've often thought we could do a sort of Barfly thing in there, just install a mini trampoline, put on a pair of flannel pj's and hurl ourselves at a wall. Maybe we could charge $$$ for it. Something like bungee jumping - only less risky and more painful on the landing. It is ugly. But any changes will have to wait until I have some serious time on my hands. And the ability to open a window or two.

The thing about spring is that I am hit with an uncontrollable urge to clean until my fingers bleed. Anyone who has ever had a baby and "nested" beforehand will know what I'm talking about. (No, that is not an announcement.) I want to throw everything out. Everything. And maybe have a yard sale. But that might be too much work. So, now I'm having a crisis of wills. My will to clean everything with undiluted bleach and an old toothbrush/or my will to relax a bit and to not be such a grouch. I'm trying to find a balance. Hopefully I can. Maybe I can just fumigate around the piles of junk and call it a day.