Talented Genius Gets Fingerpainting in MOMA

Regarding my last post. Don’t get me wrong. I love my blog. I love to write (when my brain is not constipated). I love all of you. I just, you know, want to sparkle a little bit.

And I want a goddamned award.

This is why. Up until age 16, in my dinky little Maine hometown, I was well known among my peers as the Greatest Artist on Earth. A dork, but a Talented Genius dork. My praises were sung by teachers and townsfolk. I won all kinds of awards – #1 in the window painting contest kind of awards.

But then I slipped through the cracks – straight into a very prestigious private high school for the arts. And suddenly I was a very little fish in a great big sea of Fine Artists. Finer than me. My classmates went on to win First Chair violin in the National Symphony Orchestra, Principle Dancer in Grigorovich Ballet, full ride scholarships to Julliard, that sort of thing. I went on to college, majored in How to Become a Maid After College (my thesis: “‘So You Have a Twisted Spine’: How I Overcame My Obstacles and Will Now Rise to Greatness”). Then I became a maid.

I understand the value of my art. I’m loosening up as I age, getting better, like a merlot. Or a smelly cheese. My writing is really starting to flow. I still love to dance, and draw cartoons, and finger paint with Rocky. We’ve collaborated to produce few finger-paintings that look just like some stuff I’ve seen in museums. I put on theater shows in my living room. I have a good time. I’m really happy and fulfilled.

And I want a goddamned award.

Shut up, Jewel.

In other news, it’s SNOWING! In Austin! Where we’re, like, ON the equator! Did you ever see that movie where all these people had colonized Mars or something, and the kids had never seen sunlight, except that the sky was supposed to clear and the sun to shine once in their lifetime, and then it only lasted 10 minutes and all the flowers suddenly bloomed and butterflies hatched and it was glorious and the little kid that had wanted to see it most and had been waiting for it his whole life was locked inside a barn? THAT is why we broke the Number One Cardinal Rule of Toddler-Raising: never, never, never, NEVER wake one up.

I wrapped us both in a wool sarape and hats and we went outside, and Rocky, rubbing her eyes, saw her first icicles, her first icy trees, her first snow. And she said, “I want to go back insiiiiiiiiiiiiide!”

But we were determined to make her like it. When it snows here, everybody comes outside in their slippers and stares all around, in the middle of the street. There are no cars, because everyone in the city has been bombarded with warnings to “STAY OFF THE STREETS, AUSTIN! OR YOU’LL DIE OF SNOW!” So we huddled in the road with our neighbors, everyone in thin sweatshirts, hunkered over our steaming coffee mugs, and marveled at the big, wet puffs falling all around us. We introduced Rocky to the joys of licking icicles (taken off my car – what do you expect? We don’t have “natural” icicles in the city). She got into it eventually, and finally did admit that snow was one of the more unusual, interesting things she’d seen in her two years.

Our neighbor Matt and his girlfriend decided to go out for coffee (because surely, with the entire city shut down, at least one of the Starbucks on Lamar would be open). They came out to find their car, like every car on the street, coated in a strange, hard icy substance. Hey! It WAS ice! So Matt tried to scrape it off with his credit card. Then he ran inside, emerging a few minutes later with a spatula. I watched while he banged that thing all over his windshield. Finally somebody came outside with a tool – fan-shaped and flat, with a rubber handle – he called it an “Ice-Scraper”, and said he had received it as some kind of promotional item. What do you know – it worked! And off they went, cruising along at 10 mph, sliding all the way down the hill. Um – Matt? You’re going to have to come back up that, dude.

Then it started sleeting. Fun over. Going inside. And now Rocky and Mo are watching Rocky’s favorite movie, “Madagascar”, for the 237th time and I’m going to make hot cocoa and popcorn and read a book. And fingerpaint myself an award.


One response to “Talented Genius Gets Fingerpainting in MOMA

  1. Rukan reminded me to give credit where credit is due – the featured fingerpainting is a Rocky original, with no help from anyone who went to no hoity-toity fart school.

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