Daily Grind

All day I've been plugging away at the computer for work. I'm usually out and about, but not today. Emails, phone calls, organizing...all very tedious. Have been at my desk since 8 a.m.!! I might as well get my own business up and running in this manner. If I'm going to work these hours, I should be doing it for myself.

That's it. I can't type anymore. I have Thai food in my gut and my cat and man ready for bed.

One sidenote: I'm not a fan of Michael Moore, but he may have something to say lately that's relevant. If only we could get through all the lefty/righty hyperbole and find out what the fuck is really going on.

Thick Red Caterpillars

Has anyone seen Courtney Love's lips lately? Like on the MSN homepage? They're over-inflated sloppy neon magenta caterpillars. She could dribble a ball with her mouth. Sorry boys, there's nothing sexy about them...she's no Scully. These are about as fake as fake can get.

I'm the nocturnal animal again when I should know better. I must be up at 5-ish to beat the traffic to run some sort of test for my company. It's 12:30, Matt is snoring in the other room, and I'm tempted to sit on the porch for an hour and enjoy the summer night.

But I know better.
I will go to bed.
And stay up for an hour thinking about plans and how to achieve them. I must be patient. Howie will climb by my side and purr, I will stroke him, and think about anything but retail.

But again, I know better.
Give me a job, and I'll think about how to do it better than most average people should. Even a waitress gig. How can I work harder, smarter, faster, get more results??

I'll go to bed, think about retail, put in my earplugs so I don't hear Matt grind his teeth, and I will get up the next day and do my duty. There will be a reward for it all, these hard years of blue-collar gruntwork. Someday I will get paid to paint what I want for a living.

Dead Lizard in my Back Yard

Thanks to Howie, my middle-aged docile house cat. Yet another Gecko meets his maker, its tiny carcass lies in my living room. Howie, sleek black paunch cooling on the terrazo floor, blinks lazily at it, devoid of all previous interest. I wish he'd make sport of the "Palmetto Bugs" that occasionally wander in and cause me to scream like a little girl.

Palmetto Bug. Fucking please. If you ever come to south Florida, don't be gullible when they tell you about the Palmetto Bug. They use that word to hide the fact that really, what it is, is a GIGANTIC COCKROACH. That flies sometimes. At your FACE. They are also referred to as a Water Bug in Texas...and when you mention they are nothing but huge roaches, people will actually go, "No, not really. They aren't roaches." Sure. La-di-da, everything is so nice and lovely in this world! Look at the fairies! Palmetto fairies! In my tub and crawling up my ankle in pink tutus!

Don't move here if you don't like roaches, ants, mosquitos, lizards, or anything that is creepy crawly. Howie, of course, is in Cat Nirvana. Too bad he doesn't eat the really nasty nasties. He's a true gourmet.

I'm on my fourth cup of Bustello, and checking all my email for work. I work out of my home for some part, but mostly out of a suitcase! Each Monday I'm slammed with emails from my field reps and those at the main office in Ohio. In a moment I'll be heading out to one of my stores to reset a fixture.

My parents in Boston sure did appreciate their daughter calling them from the beach to wish a Happy Father's Day. They're inside watching Airplane with the kids, I'm baking my pasty hide and swimming in the warm Atlantic. The Atlantic from my childhood was not this Atlantic! My toes don't turn numb, my teeth don't chatter!

I did a few watercolor sketches, both came out nicely. One was a simple sketch of the ocean, another was palm trees and an art deco hotel. It's refreshing to think in terms of color now. Where before I was so concerned about structure, shadow and light, now it's color and light.

Late last night Matt and I drank Aussie wine in the rain. This is rainy season. It's also quite hot. The rain was refreshing and cool, and it was nice to get a little wet while looking at our cottage lit up from the inside with Tiki lanterns. Our crazy neighbors were in bed and if they were having drama in their sleep, we didn't know about it. It was peaceful, just the way we like it.

Howie gets up and runs to the door. Turtle doves are on our porch. Howie walks tentatively, tail switching. But the FedEx guy ruins everything. Doves fly away, he runs towards the bedroom. At least the doves are safe this time.

Pizza for Breakfast

I must be crazy sitting here figuring out how to blog when south Florida is right outside my door, shining its fool sun off. It's not really breakfast time anymore but this Chicago deep dish with ricotta, artichoke, spinach and Tabasco is pretty damn good. So much for the Atkins Revolution.

This is my first blog post. I've always been into journals and writing, and now that I'm a low-level computer geek, blogging might be yet another pleasant diversion, or just another means to spew forth my anti-social vitriol at the entire human race. I was just kidding on that last part. Really.

Come on now. It's just another excuse to babble. Ah, we're a painfully self-conscious lot of nobs, aren't we?

Back to pizza and south Florida. I just moved here from Dallas, my man and I. Er, I should say we ESCAPED Dallas...narrowly, with scars to show for it. Boy did Dallas ever suck. Texas in itself is a fine, fine state, especially in the lower southern quadrant. I miss you, Austin! But Dallas? Don't let that old TV show fool you. Dallas is nothing but a massive, depressingly ugly, spreading cancer of Suburbia with a few empty skyscrapers in the middle. It's filled to the brim with minivans, soccer moms, office casual, Republicans, churches and chain restaurants. We're lucky we made it out alive!

I'm in my new kitchen enjoying the breeze coming through the window on this hot June day. In an hour I'm heading to the beach. The beach is a mile away and the water is a shimmering turquoise and always 80 degrees. I've got some watercolor sketches to do of the sky, the clouds, the water and foliage. We didn't have much of that in Dallas, none you wanted to watercolor anyway.

There is so much color that my black and white drawings are almost ashamed to be here. My gorgeous scratchboards of black and white trees hang their heads in shame. Everywhere you look you see color. Blue is everywhere, as the water is everywhere. Violets, magentas, greens, golds, pastels, just like a Maxfield Parrish painting. You could paint for decades and not get bored. I need to get some sketches done of what's around me so I can recreate a vocabulary of color for myself again.

Time to go. The beach is calling me. I'll be sure to hit the little Cuban beach market on the way to get myself a cup of my latest obsession, Cafe Cubano. Blogging can wait, life's too short. Time to paint, swim and tan this McSwede pasty hide of mine.