I made up for being a useless piece of shit by channeling the Energizer Bunny the last few days.
The boys have been complaining about not having anything to wear (in this house? riiiight) and I maintained that they have plenty to wear, they just can’t find anything because they are so disorganized.
The same goes for me.
A couple times a year I go through my closets (aka the closets I share with the kids) and get rid of stuff, put away seasonal clothing, and try to put some space in between the hangers.
This time around I got rid of those Billy Blues capri pants that I wore when I went to Napa with Cushie and only weighed 129 pounds and they were still a little tight.
I’m never going to be 129 pounds again. These days I’m pretty psyched when the scale drops below 141.
Why let those capris sit there in my closet, proof of my inadequacy, there to remind me that I weigh more than I did six years ago?
For those who weren’t with me during my epic purging journey, you will have to go back several years to see the daily carnage I subjected myself to but let’s just say that my process is to blow up the house and then try to get my shit back together before the kids get home.
I did three closets and got rid of six garbage bags of stuff. Some of it I have to Heather, some I gave to Loony to sell, some will be donated to the clothing drive Loony volunteers at on Thursday. Not bad for a day’s work.
Then this happened. I was just walking along, doing my grocery shopping and something on the greeting card rack caught my eye.
What the everlasting fuck? I have many questions.
- Never drink on any empty stomach? So this person looks fat but isn’t because …
- He farted in his wetsuit? And since when does a wetsuit cover your entire face? and …
- Why is this the right card for the grocery store versus a sex shop, because all that getup needs is a ball gag and you’ve got some serious fetish wear.
Anyway, while I continue to work the phlegm out of my lungs I am back at the studio and doing all the things. We have an eight-week cycle which ends with a potluck and Raku session.
I’m not a big fan of Raku having never had much luck with it, probably because I haven’t put much effort into it, which left me with plenty of time to consume cheese and gelato for breakfast.
Pro tip: Fior di Latte has the most incredible vegan chocolate gelato. Try it!
My chubby chicken came through the glaze fire like a champ. I just love her!
My chicken molds came out of the bisque fire and I hustled home to try them out.
The idea is to make the body the same but then have fun with embellishments. I have so many ideas to play with, I’m stoked.
And speaking of chickens …
Itchy does the daily roundup of the gals (and Radish) of the Poulet Rouge. He’s getting good at catching them all at once.
People ask if having chickens is hard. The answer is that having chickens is easy until someone needs an enema.
My fellow coop co-op members and I all got into the chicken business at the same time yet somehow I’m the one who gets the call when a chicken is sick, or is bullying the others, or needs up-close-and-personal attention paid to a her butt.
I don’t really mind but I think it’s funny that I’m the expert even though all my solutions start with a Google search. Dude, check this out. All that said, I am definitely the person for the job because I’m not freaked out by chicken poop. I have a Great Dane after all.
This little gal (let’s call her Baldy) got thoroughly bullied by Annibal the Cannibal and had a crusty vent. I worry about vent blockages so a butt soak and blowout was necessary.
I found a chicken diaper in my underwear drawer (don’t ask) and put it on her so she could finish drying in the sunroom.
Scheissehund took to sunning on the porch in his llama pajamas, too.
Anyone who buys chicken diapers in hopes of turning them into household pets is crazy. I mean, I bought them, yes, but I realized the folly of my ways toot sweet (that’s French for right away). Even though Baldy had just gotten a bath, the smell of chicken poop was everywhere. I washed and rinsed her but there is NO WAY I would ever want a chicken just walking around my house, although Blue wouldn’t mind.
I listened to a great interview today with the inventor of Thinx period panties. While the panties don’t appeal to me, I love this woman!
Talk about fearless, intelligent, resourceful and strong. My goodness, I want to be her when I grow up.
But barring that, at least I have good friends … like Kri. I had a super fucked up anxiety dream like something out of Pretty Woman …
I spared Loony the brain damage of having to listen to it and texted Kri instead. She does only the best smokey eye ever and said she’d help me pick out a few basics and teach me a two minute eye.
Like the angel of mercy she is, she agreed to take me shopping and comforted me about my stupid dream.
Here are some favorite daily quotes from The Summer Guest by Justin Cronin.