This week was a little rough. I’m pretty sure it was worse for my husband. He really gets the short end when I’m feeling emotional and crabby…and by crabby I mean a raving bitch – aka PMSing, but it’s safer not to use that term. If I use that term about myself, then my loved ones will think it’s acceptable for them to use as well, and it’s just not. I repeat, NOT OKAY (by the way, I’m still PMSing, so don’t challenge me).
The thing that really put me in a foul mood though was the four hours I spent on Thursday night, doing an extremely shitty drawing. Nothing frustrates me more than making art and realizing it’s god awful. It was so bad that I still can’t look at it, and I certainly can’t post it. So instead, here’s a doodle I found, which I did a few years ago.
It’s probably more disturbing than my post about badly drawn babies. I’ve seen it make some people actually feel physically sick.
Anyway, so Thursday night, my husband got home from work really late, and he walked through the door just as I realized I had wasted my entire evening on this sucky drawing. So, I did what any woman in her not-so-right mind would do…I unleashed the beast…on my husband of course. Who else?!
When we finally got into bed, I told myself, “Tomorrow is a new day.” But when I awoke Friday morning, I still felt lousy. I knew what had to be done. I said to myself, or I guess to Liam (my one year old son), because he was sitting right there staring at me, “I need to get a goddamn cheeseburger.” Just the thought of getting a cheeseburger started to make me feel better. There’s something to be said for eating your feelings.
Liam and I ate at a restaurant in Culver City. I ordered our food and he stared at the couple sitting behind us, as if hanging on their every word. Our food arrived promptly, and I began the process of cutting half of everything on my plate into little bite-size pieces.
Liam was a joy! When he wasn’t shoving food in his mouth, he was waving at everyone who walked past our table. He sat in the high chair, as still as a saint, with the posture of a dancer. I couldn’t believe it. He has never made it through an entire meal at a restaurant without whining, climbing, or throwing food on the floor.
The burger was epic! It glistened with juices that ran down my chin. My eyes filled with tears of joy as I experienced the crisp crunch of the iceburg lettuce. The brioche bun was the yin and yang of sweet and salty. Someone had made that burger with love.
A beam of light peaked through the clouds from heaven, and shined down on us. Little angels burst from specs of dust and swirled all around our table. I mean, really. It was amazing.