House building is hard. And we haven’t even started yet. As we look at all the ins and outs and options and requirements and codes and construction costs, I’m a little overwhelmed. We are thinking building will begin in the spring, though we are in no rush.
No rush, except that I’m so totally stoked, because, holy home art studio. I will be able to teach kids art every week all year long, and still be able to serve my family meals at the kitchen table. No more rearranging, no more coffee-table dinners. Kids can paint murals and junk all over the studio walls. Paint paint paint art art art.
Speaking of which–the lessons are going great so far. I’ve got a total of 13 kids this time around and they are precious, each and every one of them. We’ve completed our first week; that’s when they get all the butterflies and flowers and hearts and horses and dogs and big slops of paint out of their systems. I’m all about kids painting what they want, but I strongly encourage them to branch out, to challenge themselves. They are capable, and creative.
And cute as buttons.
And I don’t mind one bit that my kitchen tile is splattered with paint, or that my family will eat standing up at the sink for the next month. I love it when projects pile up in the corner. I think it’s great that my kids’ friends know exactly where the art supplies are kept. I think its adorable that they ask to get out the paints every time they come over.
It doesn’t matter to me where I’m set up to do it; I’ve got the best job in the world.
In other news, I’m tired and starving. I’m back on the stupid no-coffee cycle + a vicious form of self-punishment known as “running”, or “jogging for a quarter mile, and then fast-walking but really pretty much limping and crying for 45 minutes.”
I used to be a runner. I don’t know how. I don’t know why. But I did it once, back before my legs felt like lead encased in wet rubber. I am not sure I’ll ever be that girl again. It’s a vile and torturous journey and I am all up in the guts of it now, so quitting is not an option–at least not for another week. 21 days ought to break my intense caffeine habit; and believe me, it had gotten bad. Real bad. What else is there to do at 6:30 a.m. besides drink a pot of coffee while I cry myself awake? I mean, aside from sip a healthy 8 oz worth of vitamin-laden orange juice before getting the kids ready for school like a normal parent.