Wednesday 12 May 2010

Got To Paint (Sing it like Gene Kelly in Singing In The Rain) for the A Graceful Death exhibition for my webstite for my other website (have a look, it's good) to email me

Gotta Paint (chorus Gotta paint)

Graduation Angel, acrylic on canvas.
Ya gotta be one to paint one, I say in my best Chicargo drawl.

I do gotta paint. I nearly finished the Angel Portrait and jolly good it is too. One more thing to add, and it is ready. The African Ladies painting is next, and I need to put on a bit of Reggae and Miriam Makeba and wind a coloured scarf around my head and I am In The Zone. That needs to be done quick because it is in oils and they take ages to dry. I have put paintings in the oven before to dry them, or if they are too big, in my airing cupboard.

I am happy. My children like me this week, and I feel like Invincible Mama. Any problems you have with Child Rearing? Come to me. Teenage traumas? Pah! Come to me. My children seem to have come to terms with my shortcomings for the moment (like - say - my being confused, forgetful, eccentric, alive), it seems that their lives are either much worse than mine and I look like the better option to stay with, or their lives are so fulfilling that they are filled with Amused Tolerance when they think of me. Either way, I am a Nice Mama and seem to say all the right things at the moment.

The Archbishop of Canterbury has asked me and A Guest to his Garden Party at Lambeth Palace in June. Costya, my teenage son no. 1 (I have a Teenage Son no 2 who is 13, if you have been paying attention) made it clear that Rowan meant the invite to say that Costya had been invited and he could bring a guest and Costya just asked me out of the kindness of his heart. I had asked Alan first, but Costya could not see the sense in that at all, and so Alan, who would have found it difficult to fit the C of E into his busy schedule anyway, gave up his right to hobnob with the Ecclesiatical Top Brass, and agreed thatCostya could go. This makes perfect sense to Costya who thinks now he is going to meet the Crowned Heads Of Europe and probably God Himself. But if none of those turn up, at least he can have a free drink and a biscuit in the Archbishop's Garden. And he will be with his Mum who is he not at all sure is normal.

Off now my dears. 20 Year Old Daughter came home to me yesterday afternoon wanting to recover from the Trauma Of Life, which was easily sorted with lots of Hot Baths (and you don't have to put just one type of bubble/glitter ball/exotic oil in the bath at a time, the more the merrier etc) and Hot Food and Daytime TV and fluffy bunny slippers and so on. I need to get in the mood now, and Do some Art. It is, after all, what I am here for. (Unless you want some parenting advice).

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