Summer

 Summer has arrived in all her glory. In fact my thoughts have started moving ahead into fall and I don't like it. It seems like we just had Christmas. Something just seems wrong about this. I told the Mr. as I settled into bed the other night that every single day I end the day thinking about how fast the days fly by. It seems like I just wake up and start the day and I'm into the evening routine and bedtime again. The girls start school in just three weeks. THREE WEEKS. WHAT? We will have a second grader and a fourth grader on our hands. I just can't with this. They were just babies! 

But no, Claire, at seven years old has decided she wants to be a cheerleader, and so she has joined cheer. She spends her mornings practicing and her afternoons working out at the track. Arya wants to be in soccer and when Spring comes around, or whenever soccer starts, she will be joining. Meanwhile, while their dad is out of town and of course their mom is at work, they are spending some days with Grandma. Today they were here at the crack of seven AM. I had set my alarm but they got here before it went off. I was deep in REM sleep when the phone rang and they were already at the door. I stumbled around the room for a couple of minutes, trying to find something to wear, and it was a full five minutes before I made it to the door. Actually, this morning Dad just had a doctor's appointment. Tomorrow he will be out of town. 

So he left and we settled down. I asked if they wanted some breakfast and they said, to my great surprise no. Claire didn't want to eat before her practice, and Arya told me she had already had a blueberry. Well, OK, then. They watched about five minutes of TV and then their aunt B was here to pick up Claire for cheer. Aunt B's kids, hereby known as "The cousins" are in cheer, as well. They are twins and almost the exact same age as Claire, so this works well. They are more like sisters than cousins. Arya and I were left on our own. I told her she could watch TV some more if she wanted, but she really didn't want to. What can we do then, sweetheart? I asked her. To which she replied Please don't call me sweetheart. Can I call you dumpling? No. Can I call you puddin? No. Can I call you baby? No. No. No. You may only call me...and with a flourish of her hands...Mademoiselle! I almost choked on my coffee and started laughing. And for the rest of the time she was there, she was addressed as Mademoiselle. 

We sat in the art room for a few minutes, and it was clear she was feeling creative this morning. She picked up the three very large bags of pony beads given to her by my Auntie K, and had a seat at the little rolling table I have in there. She was about to open the bag...hereby known as The Kracken...because there are five thousand beads and unleashing them is quite like releasing the Kracken...when I remembered that I had picked up a little painting project for them at the Dollar Tree last week. She was very interested in this, and the beads surreptitiously disappeared. She didn't notice. I got out the acrylic paints and got her a paint palette. I watched as she carefully poured a little of several colors into the palette. She picked a nice range of colors, red, bright yellow, cornflower blue, and orange and green. She painted for about five minutes, and then her Dad called and was at the door. She was not happy that she couldn't finish, but I told her we can do it tomorrow. They will be with me the next two days, minus the time Claire is at cheer practice. After she left I carefully scooped each color back into the proper bottles. No point in wasting paint, even if it is cheap paint. 

Lunch time for me and the Mr. He wanted me to cook a steak. It has been a bad pain day and so I diverted to chicken, chicken that was already cooked. I made a chicken Caesar salad and for me, some cottage cheese. The salad looked a little wilty, but I figured, Hey, it should be fine. I did note that the bag said "Taylor Farms" on it. 

I got upstairs and we began to eat it, and then I was overcome with caution. Maybe I had better check that salad lot number, being that there is a parasite outbreak from Taylor Farms making it's way around the country. So I put my salad aside, and to be honest, that wasn't difficult. It wasn't that great. I went downstairs and got out the bag and put on my glasses. And googled. Um...the salad that was causing problems was from Mexico. So was mine. The salad that was causing problems was up to July 18. Mine said the 16th, so it WAS within the bad timeline. The TF lettuce had iceberg in it. So did mine. Uh...I started to panic. The last thing I need is weeks of diarrhea, right before we are supposed to set out on a road trip. So I google lensed the lot number and asked if it was recalled. Google said it was not, but I still didn't trust it. I threw the salad away. No. Thank. You. 

And so far so good. That was lunch and we are still OK. 

After lunch and a nap it was time to finish painting the foyer. I have not written since this project started. So let me bring you up to speed. The foyer is about 12 by 5, open to the living room on one side. Someone who lived her before dressed up the walls in the foyer by putting moulding up that mimics large frames. It's kinda neat so I have never messed with that. Many years ago, on a historical bent, I painted the panels of the mouldings a harvest gold, to go with my sage green living room. Well the sage is long gone, now painted a light aqua blue, a color called Blue Wild. I was tired of the gold. So I started paint chip shopping and I found the perfect color. It was called Velvet Curtains, and I confess, part of the reason I liked it was because of the name. But also, it was the most beautiful dark teal I have ever seen. And it looked fantastic with my Wild Blue color chip. So I bought two quarts. Which cost me almost twice as much as one gallon would have, but I told myself I didn't want a half gallon of leftovers hanging about when I was done painting. I came home and painted the insides of all of the panels. There are 21 of them, in case you wondered. My children hated it. Some of the things they said here cannot be repeated. One of them told me it looked like we lived in a mental institution. The other one, after it was painted came in and asked if I had changed my mind yet. 

And I had to admit...It was really dark. And a lot more green than I had anticipated it. And it did not, after all, look good with my Wild Blue. 

So I got a can of Kills. And killed it off. And began to color chip some more. And ironically, everything I looked at said Wild Blue goes well with Harvest Gold. Ugh. Dang it. Too late. 

So I made another decision and went back to the store. Got another gallon. Thought it was peach. It was pink. 

Killsed that. Went back to the store. Got something called Pouty Pink. I thought it looked coral. Everybody else thought it looked like bubblegum...I had to admit it was quite a bit more pink than I wanted. So back to the store. I was getting to know the paint people there pretty well by now. This time I took Ally with me. We perused and finally settled on something called Tropical Paradise. It was an orangy coral. And it looked good with the Blue Wild. She agreed. But I couldn't get away from the teal. So I bought a quart of the Tropical and a quart of something called Ocean Reef, and again, paid more for the two, than for a gallon, which would be twice as much. I came home and tried them out. And asked a lot of people. And everybody agreed that the coral was the best. The blue was just too dark. I spent the rest of the day painting all of the 21 panels and I loved it. Everybody loved it. However, I was just a bit short, so back to the store for another quart of paint to finish it off. And today I was started the trim. To be fair, the trim around the panels has always been white, but since the days I painted the foyer, initially, I have discovered Ultra White by Valspar, and the rest of the interior house trim is painted in that. It makes regular white look dull by comparison. So I have been having a very, very high pain day, and I knew this probably was not a good day to paint, however, it is the only day I have left this week. The girls will be here tomorrow and Wednesday, and then Thursday is cleaning and packing day for our trip. 

So despite my misgivings, I got out the paint stuff and the ladder. Right away I realized this wasn't going to work. I don't have a roller small enough for the spaces between the panels, and the brush was taking forever. Did I mention it was 104 today? I mean I was in the house, but it was still hot. So I found myself two hours later in tears, sitting on the stairs, covered in sweat and paint and wondering where my youth went. And in so much pain. And not satisfied with the job I was doing. After awhile I dried my tears and got back after it. I painted for awhile, and then dripped the paint on the hardwood, which I did not have covered with the infernal plastic sheeting, and said a cuss word. 

And that was it. I decided it was not the day for me to finish. 

I got down, cleaned up the floor, put up the paint, took a shower, and felt good about my choice. There is no hurry, except the internal clock that wants it all done yesterday. I can go to the store tomorrow and pick up some smaller rollers. Use better tools. Isn't that something I have been learning lately? Didn't I write about that in my last blog post? 

So instead of being upset, I cooked that steak, sans salad. Defrosted some shrimp and steamed some fresh green beans. Added some mango and stevia to some plain yogurt and called it good. 

Afterwards I came into the art room and got out the painting I have been working on and penciled in some more flowers. All the flowers are on there now. The end is in sight. I have been working on it for several weeks, taking my time. Being very careful not to mess it up. And when I have messed it up, carefully going back and correcting my mistakes. 

Then I got out the guitar for a ten minute practice, which turned out to be way more than ten minutes. That's the secret. Say you are only going to take ten minutes, but once you get going, ten minutes is never enough. 

I have three songs I practice every day. One is a piece my Auntie K wrote when she was young, called Cruel and Unrelenting. I have been working on this for twenty five years, but who's in a hurry? I have never mastered it, but I love playing it. Then there is Souvenirs by Dan Fogelberg. I love that song, but it is definitely difficult for me. I am slow. Very slow. There are some bar chords. I am not great with bar chords. I can play them but not without pauses. Since I have been playing it every day the pauses are getting shorter. 

The other, only recently, as in this week recently, is a Jesus movement song called Praise Him, by Janny Grein. It's a simple song, but the chords are not simple. Harder than either of the other two songs, for sure. Lots of slash chords. I have to frequently refresh myself while I'm playing, on where to place my fingers on the fret board. But with this too, surprisingly, at least to me, I am able to play it. 

So the evening comes to a close, and even though there has been frustration, and pain, today, there has been some laughter and some satisfaction. Again, I can't believe how fast the day has gone, and that it's bedtime again. 

Still missing Dad. I think about him every day. I talked to my step mom and she has moved on, it seems. She has new friends and a new life. I am happy for her. But I'm still talking to my blanket, the one someone gave me with his picture on it, every night before sleep. It seems my sisters are doing the same. One talks to her blanket, same as me, the other sleeps with hers. 

Still grieving. The picture I am painting is of the Father's Day bouquet I placed at his grave. It might seem kind of macabre, but it brings me comfort. 

And on that note, it's time for sleep. The girls will be here at the crack of dawn tomorrow.