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I'm finding doing anything to be absurdly taxing at the moment. I went to sea, came home and was bang into the Paintbox Theater deal, with rehearsals for one show going on even as the previous show is having the last performance. Plus only Mondays off for six weeks is more tiring than I expected.
I wish I had pictures. The props for Little Mermaid were more about things under water - volcano, kelp, octopus, and less about things she treasured. Honestly, I should have written the script, because I knew pretty much exactly where I wanted it to go, and Tom totally did not take it that direction. I mean, his way was total paintbox, but it wasn't what I'd had in mind. Which means I should sit down and write a couple of scripts for Tom to see if my take on things is anything like his take on things. Also to see if he can direct them, or if writing makes me a director as well. Somehow I don't think so.
I ahve not yet taken my lovely boat that I built last summer away from the lawn, which sucks, but then it has been absurdly hot and muggy for the last several weeks. If it hasn't actually been the last several weeks, it has very much felt like the last several weeks.
I'm signed up for a painting class on Saturday, called Paint Like Crazy. I'll see if that is fun, and what I can get out of it. I have to assemble a set of paints and brushes I like, and a sketchbook, though I think I am going to take a multimedia book so the paint can do something peaceful on the page.
My dad has applied his sense of humor and his lack of memory to repeating the same jokes about things he thinks are amusing. They are not bad, but they are not amusing either, and start to grate the 5th or 10th time around. I just keep going around... I finally realized I don't have to make up new answers, so I can answer the same thing over and over, without thinking too hard. I mind when he makes fun of people, I don't mind when he admires the leaves on the trees, and thinks about what the earth might look like from a cloud's point of view.
I wish I had pictures. The props for Little Mermaid were more about things under water - volcano, kelp, octopus, and less about things she treasured. Honestly, I should have written the script, because I knew pretty much exactly where I wanted it to go, and Tom totally did not take it that direction. I mean, his way was total paintbox, but it wasn't what I'd had in mind. Which means I should sit down and write a couple of scripts for Tom to see if my take on things is anything like his take on things. Also to see if he can direct them, or if writing makes me a director as well. Somehow I don't think so.
I ahve not yet taken my lovely boat that I built last summer away from the lawn, which sucks, but then it has been absurdly hot and muggy for the last several weeks. If it hasn't actually been the last several weeks, it has very much felt like the last several weeks.
I'm signed up for a painting class on Saturday, called Paint Like Crazy. I'll see if that is fun, and what I can get out of it. I have to assemble a set of paints and brushes I like, and a sketchbook, though I think I am going to take a multimedia book so the paint can do something peaceful on the page.
My dad has applied his sense of humor and his lack of memory to repeating the same jokes about things he thinks are amusing. They are not bad, but they are not amusing either, and start to grate the 5th or 10th time around. I just keep going around... I finally realized I don't have to make up new answers, so I can answer the same thing over and over, without thinking too hard. I mind when he makes fun of people, I don't mind when he admires the leaves on the trees, and thinks about what the earth might look like from a cloud's point of view.