44.

I'm trying hard not to chew the polish of my finger nails. I hate everything I've painted for the charity art fair on Sunday and the dark brown paint I used on the edges of the canvases will not clean out of my cuticles so the colored polish is a necessity.


I got a manicure and a pedicure after dropping E off at the 6th grade graduation dance earlier tonight. He slow danced with 2 girls; they both asked him. Twelve. He didn't want to ask anyone to dance because he wasn't sure if he knew how and he didn't think he needed to since last weekend, when one of the girls had a big party, he told all the girls who ask that he was eating? Both dances had a D.J. Most of the dancing is just jumping up and down which he is proficient at, but they had traditional dancing too. E busted out "the sprinkler", which my brother showed him. I demonstrated the box step and waltz, but they were doing a two step that I'd forgotten. Next year he wants to take cotillion; now that he sees why I wanted him to and that most of his friends did. It's funny and frightening, watching E maneuver along.


E's school is wealthier and more social than the school I attended. Three big parties in a week. After the recognition ceremony tomorrow, a shuttle service will take the kids over to Frances' house for a party that involves a mechanical bull.... and more dancing... and another D.J.... for 12-year-olds... what happened to the boom-box on the carport?

I've had PMS this week and hate that elementary school is over and have felt tears approaching for days, but E's O.K. with all of it: so long as he only has to wear his dress shoes to the ceremony. Boys.

27.

Many men wish to become carnal with me.

27. I'm not going to lie to you.

I hear that's a phrase that people say, more often, just before they lie to you.

The other day I wrote that I no longer need to sort myself out and nothing interesting happens then like magic: I need to sort myself out and get accused of shop-lifting. Let's try an experiment.

There is no love interest because there is not want or need of one. If there were an interest, it would be the sort of thing where I had to convince myself to give it a try.

43. Because I Can't Count Anymore

E's having a spend the night party tomorrow night: five twelve-year-olds. We were in need of water guns, Coke, and milk. My toe nails are looking ratty in my sandals.

Before last summer's stop in Alex City for a new tire and some emergency hemorrhoid cream, I had been personally boycotting Walmart.... ok, I went once with Andrew before that but I had been trying not to shop with the world's largest retail bully. It makes me sad when businesses fail and the new Walmart, across the parking lot from the dilapidated KMart almost convenient to my house upsets me.

We drove through the traffic jumble of the new shopping center to the old KMart. I went toward the make-up and nail stuff while E perused the party aisle. I picked up some Hot Tamale red polish, circled the display, decided that nail polish was $3 I should not blow, put it back, and went to find E. There was a man watching me uncomfortably; that's the other thing about KMart, it's further east and hosts a creepier crowd. We carried the party favors, Cokes, and milk to the check out counter with the man still looming.

I was fishing the money from the mess in my bag when the man appeared at the bagging stand. He leaned in and sort of whispered that he was with store security and needed to talk to me and wanted to be discrete. I stepped back, sort of creeped, he said he didn't want to say what he had to say in front of E; he said he thought I knew what it was about. I said not really, just say it. He said he didn't want to with E there and asked him to get me a cart.

He said he saw me pick up the nail polish and not check out with it.
I told him I'd put it back. See my pockets? Want to look in my bag? I can pour the bag out?
I saw you pick it up. It was red.
I put it back.
I'm trying not to embarrass you.
Do you want to look for it or not?
I'm trying not to do this in front of your son.
I have nothing to hide.
Go on.

I told E what happened. I'm not embarrassed to say that I was accused because I didn't shop-lift a $3 nail polish from the store that I was in because I felt bad that Walmart is about to close them down. I don't think I'm mad at the delusional security guard, maybe a little because he made me all sorts of uncomfortable when I thought he was leering, but next time I need water guns after the non-chain store closes: I won't be back at that KMart. Also, I wonder why he decided to accuse me; we all pick stuff up and put things back.

11.

It's not as good as it used to be. I've switched gears and lost the need to sort myself out. I am Margaret; hear me roar. Writing a post about my desire to purchase a station wagon and the angst involved in determining if the desire is need driven just doesn't make good blogging. Bear with me; please.

11.

I'm enjoying being a voyeur this week: reading and not commenting or posting.

Last week's balancing act ended in me getting into a second good gallery and promising to bring 3 new paintings, larger than 30x40, to Nashville this coming Saturday plus finding another large painting to loan for a magazine shoot that I really, really want my work sourced in, then catching a nasty fever/sore-throat/cold thing, and culminating in directing my son around the kitchen to make birthday dinner for Mom and VA, only to have said dinner cancelled because I sound contagious; got all that? Aggkk. Hooray.

10.

I'm getting paid back for being all bragadocious. Today I have a sore throat, an itchy eye, a sick child, a customer who's stressing me out, and a call in to a lawyer about the ex-husband. It's really interesting how life goes up, up, up then dooowwwwnnn: balance.