A sweet kid story

Today Mudd was asking me about letters. He was making shapes with a pipecleaner. He knows how to spell him name but has never thought about the letters representing sounds.

He made and shape and I asked the name of the letter (He said, "N.") and I asked what sound it made. He looked confused and got on the ground and said, "Woof!"

I told him that he was brilliant but explained to him "N" makes the /n/ sound. He wanted to know the rest. I helped him with a few letters and he was very happy with himself as he learned the letters in his name and their sounds.

I am learning my statistics. I wish I were as fast learning formulas as he is with learning sounds! Mudd is 4 and he will be five soon. He is pretty sharp. His smallest big sister Calamity Jane walked in and wanted to know what we were doing. I explained to her that letters have sounds. I wrote Mudd's name out and spelled it, saying each letter. I asked if she could guess what I had spelled. She studied it for a second and said, "Icecream?" (They catch on fast!) I taught her to spell it. It was cute. She will start kindergarten this year.

Art Class, Editing

The effort it takes for me to go to art class is amazing. I love drawing almost more than I love anything else. I go in and it is almost meditative. Except for one person. She is always saying something "sassy"-- but she's not funny. She makes cutting remarks to me and she irritates the hell out of me.

Yesterday in class, my teacher asked me to discuss my latest drawing. I said, "I need to take a thirty seconds to share a story about this." The teacher was being stupid and tried to be funny by yawning at me and looking at her watch. I told her that I needed to share my story so she wouldn't cut me off. The classmate turned to me as I tried to focus and said, "She is teasing you." I ignored her and moved away from her.

The classmate is always making some remark though. She doesn't seem to get on anyone else's nerves as far as I can tell, but I doubt that anyone can tell how much she annoys me. When she makes her remarks to me she subtly pushes her chest out which is a sign of aggression. She is always saying things to sound "smart" and seems to like to stand near me during critiques. When I told a friend about this, he asked if I am doing well in the class and if she has kids. Yes on both-- he said, "There is your problem. She's singling you out. She's grating on you and she knows it. You are good, you have kids, she is seeing you as someone to work."

As I listened to her talk while we were doing our class assignment (that is so fucking annoying while people talk from across the room to each other about something inane) I realized her sense of entitlement. Our lone guy was telling her how he was with his brother at some restaurant and got a free meal because they didn't cook his burger. As he told his story, I thought, "She is going to say that she gets things for free."

As it turned out, she said, "I get things free all the time. I'm sensitive and they have to make things special for me." I wanted to say that surely she doesn't accept food free from restaurants where they make their living preparing food for people, but I don't like to talk to her so I said nothing. As she conversed, everything was, "I get that too!" "That happens to me, too!" Only it supposedly happened more often and worse to her, whatever was being spoken about.

I suppose that there will always be people that I do not like. I kept thinking of my ex's wife during a court battle that lasted for three years and how I never let on that she was getting to me.

For my assignment-- I had to do perspective. I drew my church for the assignment. I don’t go to church very often. The night before last I wanted to quit my art classes and slide through, not really putting any more effort into the classes—they cost money and time and I am short on both. My husband said that Art is necessary, that it allows us to express ourselves and to relate to our environment and that other people can relate to this. He had me get that picture and I was amazed by what he read from it. I sketched him prostrating to the Theotokos (the Mother of God) while Boom-Boom lit a candle to St. Basil, and a mother who looks a lot like me with several children around her and hanging off of her and she was standing near a side wall with six icons looking on. He pointed out to me that the man was engaged in honoring Mary, that Boom-Boom was meditating to St. Basil and the mother figure was dazed and not really there, but the saints seemed to be looking at her. He said it spoke volumes on my mental state about church, not to mention how pretty the church is. I need to learn to draw with light but this may turn into something fantastic that I will enter in an art show later this year.

I may be up for editing my college newspaper next year. That was exciting news. I have two stories coming out in the next edition. I spoke to a "real life reporter" who comes in from the local paper to run ideas with us and I told him about my other class in writing that is driving me batshiat crazy. I told him that I wanted to swear off adjectives and he told me to not use adjectives but to use quotes from people and let those color my articles.

The newspaper adviser got his Ph.D. in technical writing and has advised me to go into it. It pays well so I may take a class in that.

There Goes my Baby

The last post was written yesterday but I forgot to post it. I did not write several paragraphs just to write a short paragraph on this.

My eldest daughter just left to go live with my brother. He is a college professor and lives near the college in the next town. It's a good move for her. Six years ago I lost her and her sister in a court battle and they left for my ex's for three years of hell, three years ago they came back. Now I am giving her up once again and God willing she does well and won't need to come home, but the door is always open. She'll be back-- she is close to her brothers and sisters and me and my husband.

The other day she accessed an account that the judge ordered that some money be put in to. I was never able to get at the money although I was supposed to be able to. (My ex learned early that with our state court system, nothing matters unless it's enforced. It takes money.) My ex has been taking her money. She can't get at it without his permission. She had already disliked him but now she dislikes him more, but she smiled and said, "It's not hate. The opposite of love is not hate-- it's indifference!" Too funny. She does things on her terms.