Hey people. When I invite someone over this time of year, I always assume it will be nice out and we'll be able to hang out on my deck, which becomes the most used room of the house in summer. It's great because it's outside, and I'm not really expected, I don't think anyway, to clean it. After all, it's outside-- I can hardly be responsible for an ant walking around on it or whatever.
Sis and I have discussed at length, how outside dirt, made presumably of decayed plant material, just doesn't seem as dirty or gross as inside dirt-- which you know is composed of disgusting things like dead skin cells, and micro-organisms that eat dead skin cells. Blech.
But alas. I've invited a friend over tomorrow for lunch and doing some art (jewelry) (which should be really fun), and now it's supposed to rain, and I have to deal with the fact that we are going to be stuck inside. Unless I clean up a bit this friend, who like all my actual friends already KNOWS I'm no Suzy-homemaker, will sit there and politely try to not show how much she is ooging-out. I'd rather she be comfortable and heebie-free, so... Time to get domestic.
Here's how that goes in Suelandia:
At the grocery store, I feel together, or, more accurately, like someone impersonating someone who has it all together by shopping for healthy foods. My fridge gloats smugly, full of raw fruits and vegetables. It reminds me of buying organizational containers, trying to convince yourself that this will somehow change you into a neat, tidy person, knowing full well it won't. At least now I can chase the inevitable, illicit cookie with a handful of blueberries or radishes.
While putting away dishes, I wonder at the persistence of round dishes and containers that insist on occupying the obviously squarish spaces of shelves, drawers, and fridges. Vow to begin replacing impractical round dishes and containers with square ones, that stack easily, with easily stored lids etc. Then decide I like some of the roundies too much to part with and tire of the whole idea.
Feel guilty about the state of the tropical plants I've been trying to passive aggressively kill for two years. I don't like being responsible for the life of these ugly, incongruous plants that don't belong in this latitude. Just go into the light already. Decide to withhold water, but feel too mean, and give in. (The grass I always water, because it belongs here-- part of the family, and is right by the sink after all.)
I think my produce stickers look a bit like a chrysanthemum.
I'm taking a break from writing, and getting back into reading and listening to adult literary fiction. I have to say, I'm loving John Updike-- his erudite observations of life and frank, even crude sexual musings burbling along his storyline with the certainty of water seeking it's level. The writing is so strident and unapologetic. I'm digging it. I'm listening to "Rabbit Is Rich" while I clean & prepare.
I still have lots of stuff to pick up-- sketch pads, and junk mail and spare change, stray remote controls and the giant box the driftwood from Texas arrived in three weeks ago that has somehow become just another surface to pile crap on.
I know when my pal shows up tomorrow everything won't be perfect, but it'll be good enough, better than it is now anyway, and I'll have some good food prepared, and best of all she'll take it however it is because we are friends.
(BTW-- New pics etc on "Art Stuff" page/tab)