Sunday, April 11, 2010

Sunday, Sunday

We listen a LOT to sixties radio at the shop. This results in my having "Monday, Monday" running through my mind at pretty much all times. Also, when Creeque Alley's on, I like to sing, "No one's butt is fat as this Mama's ass." Because of the fun. So-> lyric liberties-> Sunday Sunday. Because it doesn't feel like a Sunday Bloody Sunday.

It feels, me hearties, like the first glorious morning of a late and well-earned three day weekend. 

And so it is.

I'm processing the idea that my big project- the P&P Open House- 1) is now behind me and 2) was a great success. The staff & board could tell I was a little less smiley-glowy than we'd all thought I'd be. It wasn't like an art reception where I finally have finished, haven;t slept in weeks, but have brought beauty into the world in a little way and my friends are there for many, many hugs- hugs that exist (an art world secret) not only for affection, but to let the tired artists lean on someone for a minute, because we can no longer stand up.) So, unless the artist deep down knows this is not her best work (I've had those too, meh....) she is a glowy person.

This morning I realize that the Open House was like birthin' my Molly, only taking the intensity and the screaming down many thousand notches. With both, that during the event, I felt like everything was wrong, and not going ACCORDING TO PLAN. Because I seem to plan the wrong stuff. I should have staffed better that morning (Open House) , should have talked more about hospital back-up plans (Child Birth), and realized that life is organic and things can't be micro-managed (both).

So, it went beautifully as a gestalt, and I have great ideas for upcoming months at the shop. I'm now  ready (and- whew!- to dig into the new illustration work.

All Hail Hecate, the Dark, Old Goddess Who Does Not Mind When Her Storytellers Need Breaks:)

My work-treat, when I return Wednesday, is to clean & rearrange my office decor a bit, with the campy love that is my new poster. I tried for a few days to sell it, all the while it was beaming the idea into my brain that I needed it. I resisted- it doesn't go in our house. Then it kept insisting until I realized that it belonged in my office:)

And this morning, when Mr. Night Owl emerges from Morpheus' sandy spell, we will go see Clash of the Titans (2010) which is a nostalgic ritual to honor the endless hours we both spent with our respective brothers screaming RELEASE THE KRAKEN as we wielded plastic swords and wore sheets. No, wait. I did that alone. E-Rich does not do togas. He makes puns- the Kraken is crackin' BWAHAHAHAHAHAH.

Ah, Sundays: Quiet enough to write this week, thanks to the in-laws.

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