electric boogaloo

This morning it snowed, hard - the flakes were so fat and so perfectly round that our yard looked like a little kid’s drawing of a big blobby snowstorm. All through breakfast the boys watched through the blinds. Because this is Texas and snow is always exciting, and it was a total surprise. If you don’t watch the news, life is full of surprises… like all the flags were at half staff on Monday and I never found out why. Did we lose the superbowl or something?

The snow didn’t stick, but as it was tapering off we all bundled out and went outside anyway.

Then the Scout worked with Kevin on a science project while Graham and I went to the store for mission-critical household items, tampons and ice cream. What? They’re right there together on the same aisle.

Then we had lunch, because really when it’s cold outside what is there to do besides eat meals?

Kevin left for work after lunch. I took a nap. The boys didn’t really let me take a nap - they were literally climbing on my head for the entire hour asking me to please get up and watch them dance - but I couldn’t stay awake. Sleeeep. It was a surprisingly restful nap.

After I woke up, the scout said, “Aren’t you going to take a picture of the scout? I rescued a horse!”

So I did that.

At some point they worked on the dino dig, which has now entertained Nicolaus for a solid year and a half. Talk about getting your ten bucks worth of entertainment out of a toy. He even let Graham be his assistant, using a little paint brush to brush the plaster dust out of the way.

Then we drew with colored pencils, and tried to show Graham what an eraser is for (NOT eating. No, no. NOT eating… shit.) Then we painted. Nicolaus made a weasel for himself on the refridgerator using magnets, with little trays for his brushes and all.

You can’t make him say easel. Just like you can’t make him say the word cougar. He says cooter, making Charlie the Lonesome Cougar the dirtiest-sounding movie we’ve Netflixed so far, even counting IMAX - Up Close With Beavers. Which I’m assuming you’ve rented as well.

So he made a weasel and he used it to paint three pictures using his most grownuppish brush because he is working and making real paintings for people to buy. I sort of promised him that I’d try and sell his paintings, so you guys might have to help me out. I asked him how much he planned to sell the paintings for and he thought for a second. “Forty dollars,” he said. Then he added, “You might have to sell them to a rich person.”

His definition of a rich person is anyone who can afford to buy Lightening McQueen Chapstick which really on a global level is pretty right on.

While Nicolaus worked hard on his paintings, Graham worked hard at learning how to use a brush. He’d carefully dip the brush into the water bowl, and then swirl it into every color of paint in the little tin. Then he’d dip the brush back in the water and start over. At some point, his hands got involved and it was all over. Pretty soon he’d splattered muddy paint all over himself, his shirt sleeves, and his desk. A little got on the paper somehow, and he was very proud.

Then there was a bath, which they both enjoyed.

Then they put on matching pajamas and ran around joyfully pretending to be ballet dancers doing a performance for their audience - are you writing this shit down? There just aren’t entire days like this, okay? - while I made dinner. Grilled cheese sandwiches made with swiss on wheat bread, and Nicolaus declared it the best dinner he has ever had and told me next time we go to a restaurant that has a picture of a grilled cheese sandwich on the menu he’s going to get that because he just never knew what it was but now he knows and it is very delicious. Graham declared it “food” and gave half of his sandwich to Mouse who seemed to like it too.

Then we read Harold and the Purple Crayon and a Lassie book, which just isn’t as funny now that he can pronounce the letter L. I’ll miss you, Assie.

So that was today.

This morning I was offered a marketing job, in Atlanta, working full or part time, in the exact part of town we were thinking of moving to for the next year or two. If you’re any good at finding greater meaning in things, maybe you can help me out here because I can’t figure out what in the hell this is supposed to mean. I wasn’t looking for a job… but still. Is it a sign that we are supposed to move to Georgia? Is it the answer to all out money problems? Is it like a do-over career thing that I would be a jerk to pass up?

Or is this opportunity actually a test of my determination to create a simple life, true to myself and my art? In which case I should say no and dig in even harder with the art stuff.

Or is it nothing at all, a random coincidence made probable by the fact that I only have a few friends and half of them live in Atlanta? In which case I should have some more ice cream before bed.

All day I kept thinking you know, this would be such an easier decision if my children were being crazy assholes today. But look at them! They’re listening to Moby and PERFORMING A BALLET. I bet no one in the marketing group at this fancypants company ever does that.

Though it isn’t fair of me to assume. Maybe I’ll email the guy and ask.