Like Juggling while Herding (more) Cats…
(or Belly Timber’s new adventures in Portland, a three part introduction)
2. In which MizD goes crazy with the crafty thing.
Freshman year of high school, I had an English teacher I couldnâ€™t stand. Iâ€™ll call her Ms. Rhubarb. Ms. Rhubarb was new to our school and had her own peculiar way of seeing things. This way included the rather brazen assumption that her Freshman English class was the single most important class of my entire high school career. Now, donâ€™t get me wrong, I wasnâ€™t an academic slacker. If anything, I was a nerd. The sort of nerd who cluelessly wore flowered underwear under white pants, and never missed a day of class even if it meant pockets stuffed with Kleenex and cough drops. I did my work for Ms. Rhubarb, but apparently my nerdly efforts werenâ€™t good enough.
"She takes on too many things," she announced at my parent-teacher conference, "Theater and soccer and art classes and all these other extra-curricular activities. She needs to focus."
My math teacher nodded in agreement. At least I assume he did â€” I havenâ€™t been good at math since sixth grade.
My mom (whoâ€™s always appreciated my scattershot attempts at finding lifeâ€™s purpose) searched for something appropriate to say.
My advisor, who was, thankfully, also my theater teacher and had a rather Gandalfian presence which served him well, rose to my defense. "If she canâ€™t try all these different things now, when can she try them?"
Ms. Rhubarb, who would have been fearful of a follow-up firebolt had she any interest whatsoever in genre fiction, backed down, muttering all the while that one day she would be proven right. My appalling lack of focus would do me in.
And to this day (conveniently ignoring the "now" part of my advisorâ€™s remark) I am still determined to prove her wrong.
Oh, I have a calling. Itâ€™s not that I donâ€™t have a calling. Itâ€™s simply that my calling is ratherâ€¦
Okay, I admit it. Itâ€™s scattered.
Playwriting, fabric art, painting, film, comics, sculpture, decoupage Easter egg depictions of the complete works of John Normanâ€¦ Honestly. Do I have to make up my mind?
Now, hereâ€™s the thing. For the past twenty months, Iâ€™ve been on a crafty starvation diet. Oh, Iâ€™ve had my compy and my camera and my sketch pad here and there, but damn, the craving for my old art supplies has been extreme.
And now that Iâ€™ve got access to them again at long lastâ€¦
And now that I need to buckle down and kick some freelancing buttâ€¦
Well, the short ending to all this is, yes, Iâ€™m working with Chopper to build a personal chef business, but thatâ€™s not all: Iâ€™m rebuilding my arts and crafts studio and Iâ€™m hitting the marketplace. With a vengeance.
Scattered, you say, Ms. Rhubarb? Just watch me.
Next up: Part 3: In which we embark upon the rescue of our wayward house.
Note: This is a repost, as the first edition was devoured in a server crash, with chocolate sprinkles on top. Some of the first edition’s comments and final edits may have gone the way of the Seven Up Bar; my apologies to all.