I’m not sure how to describe my “style”.  I don’t really own a lot of clothes.  We were forced to leave half of my great stuff on a curb in Johannesburg.  Its a long story but we left Africa by the seat of our pants. Or in my case, without my pants.

Thankfully I packed my valuables in the small suitcase. And by valuables, I mean boots.  When its not 47 million degrees outside I live in these boots.

I know they look all Goth, but they are called Bond Girls Boots. As in, James Bond……

I bought them 11 years ago when we lived in Chicago and I’ve walked 47 million miles in them since then.  I wear them with jeans and skirts and dresses and pink flowery things.

But this summer I got me some cowboy boots.  Yeehaw!

These exact ones by Yippee Ki Yay.  I can’t even tell you how much fun they are to wear.  I wear them with sun-dresses and skinny jeans and WHATEVS.  I like to be able to throw anything on and not think about it too much.  I think about it when I buy it and then never again.  I don’t really care about matching.

Unless I have time.  Then I rig my outfits….

But today, all of my past purchases, and immediate, thoughtless choices, converged into one truly frightening arrangement.

First of all, it was laundry day on my floor (every day is laundry day, FYI)

We’d been at the park all morning and it was 500 degrees out so I took a shower during lunch.  (Not simultaneously…)

Afterwards we were going to Honey’s house for dinner and I was in a hurry so I threw on a few things.  I put on a new killer pair of jeans that are sized long.  So they don’t work with my boat shoes (until I wash them and shrink them to death).  So I tpulled on my cowboy boots….

And a soft fitted t-shirt.

And my hair was drying all funky so I put my scarf on (like I need an excuse)…

And then I glanced in the mirror.

Aaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

What the! On Earth! I can’t even!!  Wha!!!  No!!!!

Just……..No!

And I changed faster than anyone in history.  Now, I’m not knocking Mr. Bret Michaels.  Its just that I DON’T WANT TO BE HIS TWIN.

Know what I’m saying?

I hate it when people ask me if I’m an artist.

You know, in real life.  Its fine on the internet when I don’t have to look the person in the eye and be all…

It feels so arrogant.  Sure, I can brag all I want online….while I’m sitting in cut-off shorts and fuzzy house boots and no make-up and my scarf.

But it is way different when I have to say things out loud.

I majored in Studio Art in college.

For 52 days….

There were a lot of reasons I couldn’t take it.  For starters, I didn’t want to be there.  I am NOT a good school person.  I loathed my classmates classes.

EEEEVERYBODY was an “Artist”.

Way too lazy to correct that spelling. Maybe that’s why I didn’t make it….

It was so hard to have a serious discussion with someone about their passions when their work blew chunks.  I know, I know, its all subjective.  (Or is it objective…..?  Another reason I didn’t make it….)

They drove me nuts, bottom line.

And I’m vaguely anti-social anyway…..

Sorry had to throw that original Jesus in there….

There were other contributing factors to my crash and burn.

I didn’t have a car and my home was across town so I was at the mercy of whoever could give me a ride.

There were days when I waited for hours….

HOURS, PEOPLE!

I also had a stressful job working at a plasma donation center.  I had to prick fingers and spin blood and REMEMBER NUMBERS.  And it never failed that some big homeless guy who smelled like toe-cheese would come up to the counter with his nasty bottle of peach plasma and as I was about to give him some money he’d barf and pass out and I’d have to dive over the counter to catch him.

But, really, those are all excuses.  There were other major reasons why I didn’t do very well….

What was I talking about?

Oh yeah, the “Artist” thing.

So I went to Hobby Lobby to get a couple of paintings framed.  I really hate taking my paintings out in public.  I feel all dramatic.

And when I make eye contact with someone who was just staring at my work, I feel all…

I KNOW that’s what they think I’m thinking.

And there are always lurkers.  Not necessarily impressed, just nosy.

And then comes the real confrontation.  Yesterday, it came in the form of a 20-something girl.

I could feel her breathing on my painting.

And then of course she had to say words at me.

And I had to give her a  pompous, smug answer.

But it wasn’t enough.

Um… no?  Maybe?  Sometimes?  What do you mean by that?

WHY MUST I STATE MY INTENTIONS ON THIS EARTH TO YOU STRANGE WOMAN?!?!?!?

Sorry, I suddenly got unusually bored with this particular post.

Better.

Lately Siegfried loves to surprise me with…..anything.

He’ll come get up in my grill to block my view of whatever it is he’s building, and in the absolute giddiest voice possible, he’ll yell…

A surprise!? For me?!

And he does an uncontrolled victory spaz as I recognize his greatness.

But this past week he’s been getting all paranoid that I will ruin his surprise. ..

Like I’m not actually basking in whatever silence happens to be occurring.

Like I’m not totally engrossed in something I’m FINALLY getting to do.

Whatevs, spaz.

*sigh*

But, he puts up with my issues so I put up with his.

In fact, he totally embraces my pursuits.

You see sticks outside????

I’ve begun a collection of branches.  You know, because all we seem to have around here is TONS of extra space for dead-tree-storage.

Really the only person who sees us doing weird things on a regular basis is the groundskeeper and he’s totally cool with it.

(we live in a condo, not a mansion with “grounds”)

But I find myself stunned that all these men are out there trimming enormous branches off the trees and then just shoving them into trucks and smashing them to pieces.

Nobody seems to be sneaking any of the gnarly ones into their own cars!!  What is up with that?

Anyway, I’ve painted a few.  Still not sure what I’m going to do with them other than incorporate them into my wall….collage….art….thing….

Also, I finished my portrait.  I decided to keep it simple and just get a killer frame.

I have ‘prize for loo!!!!!

Two things got me to thinking today.  First off, I’m finishing up a painting I started in Africa.  There is an African Mama in it.

Secondly, Siegfried has screamed to the point of barfing today.  Twice.  It hasn’t been a good day.

This is nothing new.  He has been screaming since day one.  He came out sneezing and decided that wasn’t working for him and so he tried screaming instead.  He really hasn’t stopped.

He never just DRIFTED to sleep.  Do babies really do that???  He would scream bloody murder for about 3 hours and then just pass out.

I can’t believe we survived all alone out there on that Strawberry Farm.

A couple of months after he was born, Cathy came in an attempt to save me from one week of tears.  My own tears.

We decided to venture out in public for a change.  I can’t stand it when babies (especially my own) flip out in a busy establishment.  But it makes The Dark Knight’s head explode.

So we went into Kalk Bay with some trepidation.  It wasn’t that bad really.  Siegfried flipped a couple of times but for the most part he was alright.

I tried to find one picture of Kalk Bay that sums up its beauty, but I couldn’t find one.  So I chose a few.

Its a tiny village that goes straight up the mountain.  The sidewalks are steep stairs.  The alleys are packed with shops.

We were in one of these shops (a huge one) and Siggy started flipping his gourd.  So I went outside and hung out in the alley with him.

This big grandma started waddling up the alley towards me.

She was so cute.  She had her eyes on the screamer.

She asked me to fork him over.

I sized her up and figured I could take her if she made any sudden moves.

She took him and began her own version of grandma-comfort.

His crying died down a little in the unfamiliar territory.

And then she started with the bouncing.

Like his head was a ball and her bosom was a giant, squishy ping-pong paddle.

I thought, maybe this is it…

Maybe this is the thing he needs! A big ‘ole African nanny….

….nope.

She handed him back to me and walked off.  Darn.

I took this picture on the way home.

We survived those first 4 months by moving to the beach. There was a cafe there with a few African ladies who loved the screamer.

And there was a little beach market.

And, well, eventually he just got so cute that we didn’t care anymore….

But man, those first days are hard….

PS- Sorry you get an obnoxious load of photos when I “write” about Africa.  I blogged almost every day that I was there but when I came back my blog was transferred to another server and I lost the entire thing.  3 years worth of stories and pictures.  Breaks my heart.

PPS-8 o’clock is when the midgets go to bed……

I feel like a Million Bucks today.

I need a manservant to hold a parasol for me just like the ones P. Diddy and Snoop Lion have.

Hmmm, they have manservants and ridiculous name changes.  We have SO MUCH in common.

Actually, I feel like a million bucks because I got a new pair of shoes.

I never go shopping.

Really.

I never ever ever ever go shopping.  If I absolutely have to buy something, I usually do it online.  But things is wearin out!  So today I bought shoes……

Ok, I bought them at Payless……

Why are you looking at my blog that way?!  Don’t believe me??!?!?

Happy now!??  Now that you’ve forced me to reveal my innermost secrets??

Million Dollar Babies (size sasquatch)