It's been a bit hectic around here the last few days, as my daughter, her husband and my granddaughter came to live with us. Stuff has been put away and the dust has finally settled and my dad hasn't really lost his temper, yet. He and I got into an argument last night (he likes perfect silence at the dinner table) but it ended up ok. I let him blow off some steam, and I did as well. When we were kids, we had to sit in silence and eat and if we did try to talk about our day, my father would explode, slamming his fist down on the table and tell us all to "Shut up!!" It didn't quite come to that yesterday, but I could see it was heading in that direction so I thought I better intervene. All in all, my dad is doing pretty good for having people suddenly descend into his privacy. Hopefully it won't be for long, as Parris has an interview tomorrow and Leah should be getting a job soon too. And when they find their own place to live, my dad will be relieved, but he should also look at it as a good thing he's done to let them stay with him for a short time. It's always good to be a blessing to others, especially when you get nothing back in return. My dad never learned that lesson, so it's about time he does.
As for me, I am totally enjoying my kids and granddaughter here with me, for however long it lasts. I will be going back to Madison in July for several appointments, to see my grandkids and friends and to ship some of my stuff back down to Florida. In the meantime, I'm looking into taking an art class or two at the Venice Art Center. I have paper, paints, brushes and other supplies and some of it is still boxed up. I don't know why I haven't taken it out and started using it. I'm procrastinating for some reason. I don't have a specific place designated for my stuff, maybe that's why. I could use the dining room table, but I don't like when people watch me paint. I may have to just use it there, though, because there really isn't anywhere else in here that will work.
And then, for some silly reason, I don't want to hear my father's critiques. When I was in third grade, I remember bringing home a drawing that I thought I did really well, but when I brought it to show my dad, he made suggestions on how I could make it better and critiqued it like I was in art school. In third grade. I guess that's kind of stuck with me and although I love to draw and paint and create, I hear my dad's approving or disapproving voice in the back of my head. That's a really silly reason to procrastinate, but I can't think of any other reason. It's bizarre that as adults, some of us still try to get our parents' approval.
Maybe it's because my dad was always honest with his opinion of my artwork. My mother, however, always said, "That's nice, dear," or "That's just beautiful," when what I created was clearly not "nice" or "beautiful." To my mom, anything I created was "just beautiful," as most moms are with their children. Looking at it with older eyes, I guess I would rather have an honest critique than a flat, empty opinion. So maybe I should start creating again. It should be good to be critiqued to do better. After all, I'm no longer in third grade.
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