Workin’ Uphill

So things are peeling down to their raw layers here at Casa Otsego. I spent a lot of creativity, hard work, ingenuity, sanity and love putting together the house my two girls would be born in, the home that would also welcome our lapin/canin brood.

Because of this, I feel an unsubstantiated hatred for a potential buyer for our house. They didn’t dig out dog shit from the encrusted carpet! They didn’t go through legal actions to get El Mariachi removed from our lawn! And on and on and on. Leave me alone in a room with a Goldman Sachs derivitives repackagager and ….hmmm. Would not be pretty. Don’t care about weight ratios, but I’m pretty sure that the bloodletting would end up in my favor if only for my unadultatrated furor.

But that’s the market.

But these days time is taken up less with retribution and vitriol than with the care of  my darling girls and managing a lot of post-partum crappity crap crap..

Two Inspirationals; (though I always find inspirationals patronizing…)

#1) Pure love of the process. 34 YEARS of it. I love it. Hope you non-San Franciscans feel the love as much as I do, as I am an unabashed lover of paper, tape and glue. This is especially healing as I had to ditch my magic tree this week in the move.

…could not fit through the window….and sweet Violet loved it as much as I imagined.”Eiiiiii Eiiii Eiii!,” she’d proclaim walking past and wanting to take the stuffed animals out of their habitat.


and my beloved husband inspires me again today, despite all the moving particulars, to continue the novel when things calms down. The speaker, one of my nerdy elitist faves…

You know if you ask me what I want to do with the rest of my life, honestly, I can say that I don’t want to work for jerks or even, hahah, “objectives” any more. I want to have fun with my kids, finish my novel, travel, meet really, really, really weird people, and make enormous paper mache sculptures while doing a pan-reading of the History of Consciousness at Stanford. Pretty much, that’s what I want to do.

I also want to get a lot better at sewing, baking and my understanding of Baudrillard, Bello, and comparing personal howling fantods with David Foster Wallace.

Also, just to be egregiously honest, I imagine a fabulous California-Spanish pre-depression era home, decorated very Sunset Boulvevard/Villevillekulla.

And what’s wrong with that? Got to have something to dream about as I move in with my parents at 35 with 2 kids. Aye yi (Thanks mom)

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1 Response to Workin’ Uphill

  1. Perpetua says:

    Whoa, lady. I am getting the pity of the internet for moving with a toddler, but we’re just moving out of an apartment and into a house.

    Selling house + newborn + toddler = crazypants

    On the other hand, your brain is mighty enough to still remember how to spell Baudrillard, despite all this. I love your dreams and would borrow them if my brain were up to the challenge.

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