This morning, as I prepare for the exciting day of work ahead, preceded by an even more exciting daily commute, I find myself smiling at this drawing which was left on my coffee table:
I’m proud of my 5 nieces and nephews in my life.
The two girls learn quickly, love deeply, can laugh at themselves; they are thoughtful and intuitive. They are vivacious, creative, intelligent old souls.
The three boys enjoy video games.
I’m suddenly reminded that I have a 4th adopted nephew.
My Godson’s best friend came over to the house one day, decided he liked what he saw and become my nephew too.
For those of you who don’t know me, I can assure you, if we met, you’d think I was way better than the commute to work, but not as awesome as the ride back home.
This is the part where we pause so that you can stop and think; “oh, she’s probably more awesome than the ride home too!”
Thank you for your kind words.
It’s so unexpected.
Heading east and armed with 2 hours of sleep (hey, I’ll take it!) I decide to examine this drawing in further detail.
To Nat Love Gina. I love that the cousins have a relationship. My siblings and I never had that growing up.
My pity party is in full swing, as the train just stopped to wait for a signal up ahead.
This morning, the train gets me.
We are so in sync sometimes, it’s not even funny.
Like the times when it frequently stops and doesn’t want to work.
Or the times when it closes the door on annoying passengers and leaves them outside like I do at home with visitors.
Sure, we had plenty of cousins, but were often ostracized from big family gatherings because somehow, the seemingly well behaved 4 children were considered more of a burden than everyone else’s.
I can’t imagine why they wouldn’t want to invite me, though. I’m the youngest of four and realize each of my siblings claims me as the bully.
It’s a great thing my nieces have a strong relationship.
I’m glad they are both artistic.
I hate art. Especially drawing.
The thought occurs to me I hate things I suck at.
My favourite art experience was growing up watching Bob Ross on PBS.
I’m pretty sure The Joy of Painting was the Ritalin of my generation.
As a child, I’d often watch this show and scream at the tv; “Don’t do that! You’re ruining it!!”
Bob’s melodic voice and talent would prove me wrong everytime.
Back to this morning’s masterpiece, I realize the dog and I have a lot in common.
The dog’s name is Mic Swager.
My rap name is Mic Swager.
This dog is missing a limb.
Given my recently self-diagnosed plantar fasciitis, I feel like I’m missing a limb too.
Mic Swager appears to be thinking about food.
I contemplate eating Mic Swager.
Mic Swager’s eyes look full of despair.
My eyes look full of despair.
I’m not sure that’s true, but keep in mind, I’m trying to draw parallels.
The one concern I have with this drawing appears with the tag line:
And you should too.