Stella gave me a chocolate guy, "eat my shorts" and so I did, and then his feet , and then his right arm, now I feel ...sick...I am sorry Perfect Man.
I found a children's reader in a pile of things.
It is a story about a mother who had to take a nap and leave Dad in charge.
Everything he tries to do that the Mother usually does becomes a disaster, he makes the children cry, the goat hates him-
his oatmeal is like soup, he burns the toast, he tries to rescue the goldfish, as the boys have taken them to bed with them...
He really is clueless.
In the end, he passes out with a terrible head ache. The mother takes care of him...In the books from this era , Dads are generally portrayed as comical and rudderless in the home, Remembering Ozzie and Harriet , popcorn night by the radio, and we laughed and laughed at Ozzie's dim bulb attempts at being a Dad.
I did not personally know a Dad like this, there were no clown Dads, in my life, There were some who liked the bottle to0 much, who beat their children too much, who had "shell shock" or shut down entirely, there were no clowns.
Finally , the floor was installed last week, after months and months. The wood floor removed and this indestructible manufactured tile put in.
We shall see, won't we...After the fifth flood I am not investing any hope in this so called indestructible flooring.
The pod in the drive emptied, everything stacked in the rooms waiting to be sorted and put away.
Just what I want to do, sort junk... my favorite...
BUT I did find that sexist little book, didn't I, so there is that! Who knows what may surface?
I went to the studio to stare at the wall for a while.
Still lacking inspiration to create anything more in the cluttered world. My creativity has flat lined.
---- thought I would leave you with this bigger photo of empty space...I like it,
I like a room of nothing. My brain needs this empty space. Restful.