October 14, 2010

Because I was feeling sick, Jeb and I got cozy and settled in for some movie time together with The Endless Summer.

One of my favorite parts was when they were in South Africa and saw some sand dunes that they knew would eventually lead them to the ocean.  Should they cross the sands?  How long would it take?  Would it even be worth the journey?  They had no idea what kind of waves (if any) they’d find.

And what they did find was Cape St. Francis with what they describe as the “perfect wave”.  Clean, long curls over sandy bottom that rolled on and on so long their legs cramped as they squatted in the tube.

We all have our own kind of perfect wave.  Some dream we hold in our hearts of the ultimate experience.  And we all have our trek to get there.

Here’s to everyone getting their dream ride.

October 13, 2010

It was just me and my neti pot today.

Came down with some sort of head cold last night and have been flushing the nasal passages all day.

I gave my boy a late lunch of pad thai noodle take-out but by now dinner is looking like some beef jerky, a pickle and a glass of milk.  I ponder the fact that I’m blogging here but not making a decent meal for my son.  I made a commitment to post one daily chronicle for 40 days.  Come hell or highly stuffed noses, I’m writing once a day.

Jeb is ready for bed and now I’m going to go curl up with Louise Hay.

October 12, 2010

Jeb’s art is now exploring what I’ve come to term “The Nude Series”.  Yes, sketched characters are now more anatomically accurate (not to mention, exclusively male).

As an artist myself, I encourage him to express himself freely.  But I’ve had to differentiate between what can be drawn in his journals at home and what he can create at school.

Look closely and you’ll see that today in art class the muse overtook him.  However, it appears as though censure prevailed in the shape of an eraser, leaving only a faded remnant in this abridged example.

He says he removed the appendage of his own accord, not because the teacher asked him to.

Part of me is happy that he honored my request to keep the nudes at home.  And part of me grieves to think that the editor – that bane of creativity – has already infiltrated my 6 year old’s world.

I mean, I gotta ask the burning question…what would da Vinci’s mom do?