what are you doing?
Mar. 8th, 2004 11:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
oiranPeople who are two years old are energy vampires, and they have enthusiasm for questioning far beyond the scope of the event under consideration.
"What are you doing?"
"Painting."
"You're painting?"
"Yes, I'm painting."
"Mom, what's she doing?"
"She's painting, honey."
"You're painting?"
"Yes."
"Why is she painting?"
In an attempt to steer the conversation a bit, mom (i.e., Kicky) says, "Do you like the new color?"
"No. Why are you painting?"
etc., etc.
There are now five coats of paint on the walls. You can still see thin spots, but it looks burnished now, instead of sparse. I reiterate: Behr paint sucks. Now I get to do the trim. Something inside of me is curdling at the thought, but I'm pretending it still might be fun. Maybe it would be, if I were thrillingly, scarily high on crack.
And then we went to Pottery Barn so Kicky could buy a new rug. With the 2-year-old person along. I made Kicky loan me a shirt without paint down the front, and instead had a tight tank top with boobs spilling out. The 2-year-old person wanted to experience Pottery Barn fully, i.e., sit on every chair, lie on every faux bed. She argued with me about taking off her shoes so she could lie on the beds properly, and sprawled out with her face buried in pillows demanding, "Cover me!"
See, she's not even being bad--she's just being two, and a healthy two, and she's actually a lot of fun, but I am so, so, so glad that I don't have a child of my own. I've liked and loved all of the children of all of my friends and relatives, but each one of them convinces me that much more that I've made the right decision to have birds and dogs and not human babies.
Anyway, the rug looks great. I am such a good interior decorator/decider. The way it works is, Kicky picks stuff, then waffles, and I tell her she was right in the first place.
candygram: If you're on my mailing list1, you're getting a package in the next week or so, probably longer if you're overseas. If you didn't know you were on my mailing list, you'll find out that you are, in fact, on such a list in the next week or so. And, no, it's not actually candy.
Smallville | Aimee Mann Title Challenge: Oh, yeah. I had said this closed at the end of February, but it isn't closed because I'm still messing with my story. Let's just say that it will never close and I will welcome any and all stories you might ever write for this challenge. And those who submitted stories? Now that the official date is past, I'll make the covers/icons I said I'd make.
Sopranos: No spoilers here. Just the damaged part of me squeeing "Daddy's home!" I am just so damn happy to see new episodes! I thought I'd have something pithy and insightful to say in honor of the start of the season, but instead I'm recounting RL circular discussions with toddlers and I'm just so tired. Still, my father-figure crush on Tony is back in full force (yes, I know he's a bad man. Duh.) and without new SV eps for a month, I'm frantic for Sunday to get here.
Lucinda Williams: Tomorrow. Ryman Auditorium. I'm wearing red cowboy boots and will get a good buzz on in Ms. Williams' honor.
1And if in a week or so you're wondering why you didn't get anything from me, it's because you never gave me your address the bunches of times I asked for people to give me their addresses, dumbass. You could give it to me now. Via e-mail, please.
"What are you doing?"
"Painting."
"You're painting?"
"Yes, I'm painting."
"Mom, what's she doing?"
"She's painting, honey."
"You're painting?"
"Yes."
"Why is she painting?"
In an attempt to steer the conversation a bit, mom (i.e., Kicky) says, "Do you like the new color?"
"No. Why are you painting?"
etc., etc.
There are now five coats of paint on the walls. You can still see thin spots, but it looks burnished now, instead of sparse. I reiterate: Behr paint sucks. Now I get to do the trim. Something inside of me is curdling at the thought, but I'm pretending it still might be fun. Maybe it would be, if I were thrillingly, scarily high on crack.
And then we went to Pottery Barn so Kicky could buy a new rug. With the 2-year-old person along. I made Kicky loan me a shirt without paint down the front, and instead had a tight tank top with boobs spilling out. The 2-year-old person wanted to experience Pottery Barn fully, i.e., sit on every chair, lie on every faux bed. She argued with me about taking off her shoes so she could lie on the beds properly, and sprawled out with her face buried in pillows demanding, "Cover me!"
See, she's not even being bad--she's just being two, and a healthy two, and she's actually a lot of fun, but I am so, so, so glad that I don't have a child of my own. I've liked and loved all of the children of all of my friends and relatives, but each one of them convinces me that much more that I've made the right decision to have birds and dogs and not human babies.
Anyway, the rug looks great. I am such a good interior decorator/decider. The way it works is, Kicky picks stuff, then waffles, and I tell her she was right in the first place.
candygram: If you're on my mailing list1, you're getting a package in the next week or so, probably longer if you're overseas. If you didn't know you were on my mailing list, you'll find out that you are, in fact, on such a list in the next week or so. And, no, it's not actually candy.
Smallville | Aimee Mann Title Challenge: Oh, yeah. I had said this closed at the end of February, but it isn't closed because I'm still messing with my story. Let's just say that it will never close and I will welcome any and all stories you might ever write for this challenge. And those who submitted stories? Now that the official date is past, I'll make the covers/icons I said I'd make.
Sopranos: No spoilers here. Just the damaged part of me squeeing "Daddy's home!" I am just so damn happy to see new episodes! I thought I'd have something pithy and insightful to say in honor of the start of the season, but instead I'm recounting RL circular discussions with toddlers and I'm just so tired. Still, my father-figure crush on Tony is back in full force (yes, I know he's a bad man. Duh.) and without new SV eps for a month, I'm frantic for Sunday to get here.
Lucinda Williams: Tomorrow. Ryman Auditorium. I'm wearing red cowboy boots and will get a good buzz on in Ms. Williams' honor.
1And if in a week or so you're wondering why you didn't get anything from me, it's because you never gave me your address the bunches of times I asked for people to give me their addresses, dumbass. You could give it to me now. Via e-mail, please.
