Good news and bad news.
My daughter was here; that's good. My daughter has gone home; that's bad.
On the bright side, I'll get some sleep, and it's coming on trash day.
For bringing just one back pack with her, she filled all the empty in my house by opening that pack. And my kitchen counters are full of stuff for the trash.
This time home, she came early Friday and left mid-Tuesday. I figured we'd go through stuff in the basement, clean the garage and take down the wreath on the front of my house.
Never made it to the basement, it was way too cold to be in the garage and I never once thought of that wreath. You've got to think of stuff if you want to deal with it.
She did, however, change the battery in my kitchen clock. Even on a step stool, it's high for me, and stepping on that stool can be an iffy proposition. Stepping on the stool and tilting my head backward to look up is akin to waving a red flag at a raging bull. Nothing could happen or all heck could break loose.
She noticed the time error right away and took down the clock, popped in a new battery and replaced the clock. She didn't, however, set the correct time. And that, as they say, set the tone for the weekend. We got things done, all right, but may have taken longer than necessary.
Whenever we're together we try to do at least one craft project, so we spent quite a bit of time at Hobby Lobby. This time she found a new aisle. Well, new to her; she hadn't browsed through that particular offering before.
We bought a heavy cardboard "family" sign to beautify for my sister. Had to start with paint, so we popped open a small tube of white acrylic paint. She refused to use the tempera paint I'd used on Christmas ball ornaments, saying tempera paint is kids' paint.
Cardboard, being porous, sucked up the entire tube of white acrylic and it looked as if we'd just whispered the thought of paint at it, so it was back to Hobby Lobby. But it was getting on to midnight, so our run for the paint ended up at Wal-Mart, which isn't a bad thing because that late I don't feel wrong using an electric cart. Even with an equilibrium problem I can walk the store holding onto a shopping cart, but it's a whole lot more fun riding a go-cart around.
We found the white paint, but couldn't leave until we'd picked up 14 bright colors and a few canvas boards. My heart tells me I can be an artist, but it also tells me I can play the piano and I've proven it wrong on that count. Still, you don't know if you don't try, so now I've got a brightly painted canvas board that can be salvaged with a little thought.
But my daughter, the artist, has gone home, taking my muse away.
This could get tricky.
So long friends, until the next time when we're together.
Sandy Mickelson, former lifestyle editor of The Messenger, may be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.