Update

As of this morning the price tags were the same. It's nearly every type of fruit cup, whether it says each or per pack or whatever the unit is, they are all wrong. No sign, no indication of unit price error, no sorry for the inconvenience. Cullen wanted to start knocking displays over and stuff but I managed to get him out of the building before he gave them a piece of his mind. You don't want to mess with Cullen when he's angry. Ohohohoh, no, no you do not.

P.S. HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my brother!

The unit prices of food v. the actual retail price at Copps: a tale of deception, anger, and love of one's family

Says Wisconsin Legislature:

100.183(1)
(1) No person, firm, corporation or association shall, with intent to sell, or increase the consumption thereof, or create an interest therein, make, publish, disseminate, circulate, or place before the public in this state, or cause, directly or indirectly to be made, published, disseminated, or placed before the public in this state, in a newspaper or other publication, or in the form of a book notice, handbill, poster, bill, circular or pamphlet, or in any other manner, an advertisement of any sort regarding articles of food, which advertisement contains any assertion, representation or statement which is untrue, deceptive or misleading.

I try to be a smart shopper and I always look at unit prices when comparing products to see which is the best deal. It helps you compare a 1lb bag of corn chips with a 10 oz bag of corn chips without having to do math, because the unit price tells you that one brand is 18 cents per ounce and the other bag is 27 cents per ounce (or even 60 cents per ounce in some cases...) when they all look sort of the same.

Yesterday while I was shopping at Copps I was considering buying some sort of fruit cup/apple sauce cup kind of thing for the girls' school lunches. They all seemed like a rip off but I decided to look at unit prices anyway. I looked at some Dole fruit cups that were on sale. 12.8 cents per pk? Maybe not such a rip off! How many do you get? Four? So let me get this straight. This should cost $0.51? Seems like a better deal than most! But hold on a second. Do you see it? It's $2.05. The PER PK price for a 4 PK of this should be $0.51. But if you were just glancing at unit prices you would be tricked into thinking this one is a better deal than that one. I took a look at some of the other fruit cups and found similar mistakes, and I started to wonder about the whole store.

As I went on with my shopping trip I started getting upset about this. By the time I was finished and the Customer Service Rep who was helping out asked if I was ready to check out, I was ready to take on all of the wicked injustices of the world.

"I have to show you something..." I said, and brought her over to the fruit cups.

I told her that I rely on unit prices to tell me how to get the most food for the least amount of money and I noticed that their unit prices were incorrect. "I want to pay THIS PRICE," I said, pointing to the misleadingly low unit prices.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, this is the actual price of the product. The unit prices are wrong. I don't know how that happened."

I wondered aloud about the REST of the store. I told her those labels needed to be fixed immediately so other customers don't compare unit prices and think they're getting a deal.

SHE said she didn't think other customers were looking at unit prices.

"I guarantee I am not the only one looking at unit prices. People are broke! They have families to feed! They are trying to be smart shoppers!"

She told me that the labels come from "Corporate" and it could take a while to get the right labels out.

"What are you going to do RIGHT NOW?"

"Ma'am, I... Don't know what to tell you... We can't do anything right now... We can't go through every single product to check the unit price right now. Like I said, we can't change the price tags right now."

"REALLY? What would make it worth your while to DO SOMETHING about this? Should we stand here together taking all the prices down? I spend $12,000 a year at this store feeding my family of five! Price comparison helps us pay the bills and there are lots of people out there who are worse off than us. This is important! Do I need to call Channel 15? What needs to be done?"

"I don't think you need to do that. Like I said it's going to take time--"

"You need to inform your customers of this NOW."

"I understand that, ma'am--"

"I don't want to come back tomorrow and see that nothing has changed."

"I can't guarantee--"

"I don't want to come back in an HOUR to see that nothing has changed."

"I don't know what to tell you..."

I sighed, "Just make a sign to tell customers that the unit price is incorrect and attach it to these shelves, please."

"O-okay."

"You're going to do that?"

"Yes."

"Excellent."

I got out my iphone and snapped the above pictures, then went on to check out.

I realize that I may have gotten more steamed than I needed to about this, but as a "mama bear" I feel that when I'm getting deceived on unit prices, these people are taking food out of the mouths of my children, and boy do those instincts kick in.

Please, smart shoppers, pay attention to this stuff. They need to know that you're paying attention, and that these mistakes aren't okay.

And if anyone is shopping at Copps, do me a favor and check the unit prices on the fruit cups. ;)

Sometimes I get stuck

reading livejournal archives for hours. It's like when you get out an old photo album and then you end up looking at all of them. Anyway, here is something from when Mina was 3 1/2 or so...

I was trying to get the pen ink flowing so I thought I'd write down conversations I was having with Mina. It was during the height of her "pretend play with letters" phase.

HILARY: I want to write a story, Mina.
MINA: About E!
HILARY: What is E like?"
MINA: A flower.
HILARY: What does E like to do?
MINA: The E wants to talk, mama.
HILARY: What does E want to say?
MINA: E say, BUMMER.
HILARY: What's a bummer?
MINA: Leta's a bummer...no, how 'bout E's a bummer, mama."
HILARY: Is E sad?
MINA: Or E happy?
HILARY: What is E happy about?...(no response)...What does E LOVE?
MINA: The flower...
HILARY: What else?
MINA: Pickle. E likes to talk to pickle.
HILARY: E likes to talk to the pickle? What about?
MINA: E talks of POWER, mama.
I want some more peanut butter please, mama.

-fin-

Cullen goes to the doctor

I should re-name this blog "Our Health" since all I ever talk about is going to the doctor and kids getting sick.

Anyway...

He was perfectly happy until he had to take off his jacket, and then he started with the kicking, screaming and crying. I held him against the wall to get his height, and managed to catch his weight in the split second before he ran off of the scale. He went crazy when the nurse was trying to get his head circumference and there was no way he was going to let her anywhere near him with the stethoscope.

He wasn't any better for Dr. Dude. "What happened? We used to be buds!" he said when Cullen was hiding behind a book yelling, "NO!"

Sad.

He's a big kid. Off the charts for height and 95th percentile for weight? Something like that. A big, healthy kid.

Just have to work on the attitude.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY CULLEN!

I'm saying, "Let's have this baby!"

Two days old

Today Cullen is TWO YEARS OLD! So of course, we must travel back in time to the day he was born. (Labor story, possible TMI)

The night before, I was determined to have a baby, even though my regular doctor ("Dr. Awesome") was out of town and the resident "Dr. Dude" would be delivering my baby...

I had a funny feeling in my toe that conditions were right and with the proper encouragement we could have that baby. Jason and I had twinkles in our eyes as we laid down to bed that night. I woke up in the wee hours with a sort of quiet crampy, icky feeling. It was quiet enough that I wasn't sure. I laid there for a short while, riding out some more icky cramps, feeling a bit sick.

Finally at around... Oh, I don't know, 4am? (Should have written this when all the details were fresh!) I got out of bed to see if I could time any of it. I don't remember timing anything though, I just remember having one that I definitely for sure felt was a labor pain. I was posting in my livejournal when that happened. I knew then that it was time to call Laura.

*ring...ring...*
"NO... NOT YET..."
"Sorry..."
"Okay... See you soon..."

That's about how it went I think. I think it was after I called Laura that I woke up Jason and we got ready to go. I was mostly ready. Anything we were doing to be ready at that point was extra. I was feeling okay. I remember having one or two big contractions in the kitchen before getting in the car, and was mostly okay in the car which was one of my big worries. The car can be a terrible place for pain. I vaguely recall listening to the Cure which is a GREAT place for pain. ;)

I think it was maybe 5:30am when we got to the hospital. I spent some time in triage, getting checked out. I was just starting to have some pretty bad contractions, but some were okay. It was kind of inconsistent and I was surprised when they said I was 7ish cm dilated. I thought I would be maybe five, or worse, that it was false labor.

Still, it took about three hours to get to ten. I was in a hospital gown, on all fours on my birthing bed with my bare butt in the air when the doctor arrived. That is a story that, I'm proud to say, made my friend actually spit out her coffee. I should maybe point out that at the time I sort of... well I felt a little funny about Dr. Dude, because he's the same age as my peer group, and I don't know, I didn't get the "doctor" vibe from him? So here's this young dude who isn't my husband being greeted by my bare butt in the air...

Of course, it only gets worse from there. Suffice to say... I got over it.

Anyway, I remember he kept checking and telling me, "There's just that last bit of lip yet..." As if I could do anything about it. I suppose he was telling me so I knew not to start pushing yet.

I sat on the side of the bed for most contractions, with my feet on the ground, leaning into Jason, and breathing in his t-shirt. My husband always smells good. I don't know what it is. When I smell his skin I am instantly calm. During the postpartum dark days I frequently took little "smell Jason" breaks. This probably sounds insane. Anyway, it's true, so now you all know my secret to happiness--huffing Jason's pheromones.

It was about 8:30 when Dr. Dude gave me the go ahead to start pushing. I wasn't in a good position for pushing. I was just a smidge too reclined. I was past the point of being uh... verbal though, so nothing was done about this. I felt a little powerless at this point but kept pushing anyway. Dr. Dude started applying some pressure on the perineum and telling me to push "right here"... It wasn't long after that! At 9:11am on this day one year ago, our baby boy was born!

I had one stitch and Cullen was perfectly healthy.

I had so much fun that evening with Stephanie, Laima, Laura and Tim sitting around (while I was a bit doped up) thinking of baby names and laughing. I'll always remember that. I was so glad to have them there, passing the time, sharing hearty laughter.

Cullen, my sweet baby boy... You're no longer a baby, but deep in the throes of toddlerhood. You are my most stubborn child. You are a stereotypical boy, drawn to balls, trucks, trains... When we give you a doll you throw it as hard as you can. You plow other kids over and steal their toys, and are always wrestling with your sisters. You only recently stopped hating baths. Sometimes when we scold you or you don't like what's going on, you close your eyes and wrinkle your nose... You frown... I think you are trying to cry. It's hilarious. Especially when you open one eye a little, then close it again...

Right now you're wearing an oven mitt and carrying an etch-a-sketch around. Those two things seem to go together...

Kid, I have to admit, I'm head over heals in love with you. You brighten each and every day of our lives. I'm so excited (and a little scared) to watch you grow into a big boy!

xoxoxoxoxo...

Mina goes to the dentist!

Mina had a cleaning today. Those of you with AS kids probably know what a big deal this is. I mean, it's a big deal anyway, kind of, but a much bigger deal for a kid with sensory defensiveness. There is a long list of things about an appointment like this that could go horribly wrong. She might not want to get in the chair. She might freak out when the chair raises/goes back. She might cry about the light. She might be scared of the television. She might hate the music. She might not open her mouth. She might not bite down on the bite-wings. She might not want to separate from me during x-rays. She might not want to go to the bathroom and have an accident.

I know, I know, it sounds crazy. I sound crazy. But these are all things that would have bothered her at one time, and today I'm happy to report that she seems to have outgrown all of it--or at least has established trust with the staff at the dentist office.

It was fine. She did great and she wasn't scared at all. She even went to the x-ray room without me. Wow.

And guess what else. NO CAVITIES!

Dr. Tony said he just couldn't believe that tooth she pulled out was still there. He said he wouldn't believe it if he didn't see it with his own eyes. The hygienist asked, "You remember that?" and he said, "How could I forget?"

He called Mina "Princess" (he does this to all the little girls) and she didn't even yell, "I'm not a princess!" She has matured to a simple eyeroll. Love it.

He thinks she might have some crowding issues and need to see an orthodontist down the road... We'll see. I seem to remember dentists saying that about me when I was a kid and my teeth are Just Fine.

Anyway...

I think we should celebrate no cavities with root beer floats, don't you?

Healers

When my friend posted something about how her stylist never remembers her, it made me feel pretty grateful for having a stylist I love.

I feel that my life is better because of it. When I lived in Appleton I really liked the boy who did my hair, and I was really bummed when I moved to Madison because I kept trying people out and just not feeling the love. Pretty soon I was snipping away at my own hair and looking like a crazy person.

Then I started going to Lowen and everything got better!

I wish for everyone I care about--that they could have two important people in their corner--A good stylist and a good doctor. I'm pretty sure these are both equally good for my health.

When I go to the salon, I am taking care of myself by seeking help. When I go to the clinic, I am doing the same. I don't want to do either if I don't feel comfortable with who I am getting help from.

It's not so crazy really. They apparently stem from the same roots... I just read this interesting article about barbers and surgeons...

Specialization of professions is a relatively new invention. Back then, barbers were also dentists and surgeons, versatile performers of tooth extraction and enemas, bloodletting and wound surgery.

And as a bonus, a bit about Sweeny Todd:

A Spot of Trivia

If barbers had once been popular for being administers of therapeutic medicine, they were certainly made unpopular by the appearance of Sweeney Todd. Sweeney Todd (a.k.a. the Demon Barber) was a character from a 19th century horror flick, made popular by Stephen Sondheim’s musical, a razor-wielding barber who killed his customers for cash and turned them into meat pies. He first appeared in 1846 as a secondary character in a short story called ‘The String of Pearls: A Romance” (by Thomas Prest) that was published in The People’s Periodical. A hack playwright by the name of George Dibdin Pitt, who commonly filched other people’s stories, dramatized the story for the stage as “The String of Pearls: The Fiend on Fleet Street”, and advertised it as “founded on fact”. This play debuted at London’s Hoxton Theatre on March 1, 1847, and ever since then people have been speculating as to whether Sweeney Todd had really existed, or if he was simply an fictional bogeyman invented to sate the appetite of the morbid Victorian imagination.

Did Sweeney Todd really exist? Up until recently, nobody knew. A number of daily newspapers at the time had reported real-life horror stories that bore certain similarity to the ghastly tale of Sweeney Todd. (Stories of fainting ladies aside, the Victorian community had an enormous – and morbid – appetite for all things ghastly. Shocking tales of crime like this would have been spread through word of mouth like wildfire… although they were also probably embellished along the way) Also, many horror tales in the 19th century – ‘penny dreadfuls’ – were actually fictionalized accounts of real stories. And it was known that Thomas Prest, who first wrote about Sweeney Todd, had the habit of scouring newspapers for story ideas. However, these were just written off by most as a story to scare bad children and to thrill audiences.

All of this changed when British author Peter Haining recently revealed, through painstaking research, that there was once a psycopathic barber named Sweeney Todd who lived in the 19th century and who did actually murder his customers for money, although his tale is somewhat less exciting than Stephen Sondheim's famous musical. Unlike the Sondheim/Prest dramatized character, Sweeney Todd was simply an amoral, bitter man who was not adverse to killing for money. (The Victorians would have been disappointed) To know more, click here.

Man or myth, one thing is for sure - the tale of Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber, is not likely to be forgotten anytime soon. As Anna Pavord of the London Observer wrote in 1979,

“Sweeney Todd will never die. We all need bogeymen and he was bogier than most.”

You're welcome. Sweet dreams.

I AM AWESOME. And other random stuff from this week.

Two weeks ago I made my whiteboard with a ridiculous amount of tasks on sticky notes all over it. I gave myself two weeks to complete these tasks. Well, folks, I'm happy to report that today my whiteboard was EMPTY! I finished things I've been trying to do for MANY MONTHS. And it wasn't all that hard! I just had to do one thing at a time--and if I got interrupted, I didn't have to waste any time trying to think of what I was doing.

Let's say I have five minutes. I look for something I can easily do in five minutes. Maybe Cullen is sleeping--I look for something that is more involved but can be done quietly. If there are children around, I look for something I can do with them or around them... You get the idea. It worked out beautifully.

Leta was even sick last week, and I was sick over the weekend.

Yes, I was. I got sick. It happens sometimes. I was so sick on Saturday--it was as bad as my pregnancy with Cullen before I started taking the miracle drug Zofran. The nausea, the incessant vomiting, the dehydration, the backache. Horrible.

Jason was such an angel and he really saved my hide the next day at Mina's birthday party. I was recovering, but still feeling weak and not ready to eat anything. Jason brought everything in (to the YMCA where we had the birthday party), set it up, chased Cullen around for two hours while the kids swam and bounced and I did the easy stuff--sitting and gabbing with the other moms. He dished up food, blew up punching balloons, and was basically my hero. Thank you Jason.

Oh, back to me being awesome. It's come to my attention that I have a little problem with letting little setbacks bring me way way WAY down. I don't feel that way about life, generally, I think I take things in stride, keep my chin up in the face of adversity, etc. However, when it comes to my own productivity I really have a distorted self image sometimes, and once I fall below a certain line, forget it, I'm going to be down there for weeks. Anyway, the whiteboard helps me with this, too.

And now I will shut up about the whiteboard.

Good night.

Seven Years Ago Today... (some old, some new...)

Can you believe this chubster? I thought we were getting a newborn!

I get a little choked up every single time I look at this black and white picture. The day Mina was born, I realized there was so much about life that I knew nothing about. So much that this little baby had to teach me.

September 30th, 2002... In the evening my sister-in-law-to-be Laney called because she was procrastinating practicing the violin. I remember telling her nonchalantly that I would be in labor that night.

I was sort of disappointed as we climbed into bed and nothing was happening.

I fell asleep watching Conan O'Brian... and woke up at 12:30 am, October 1st (Mina's due date!) having a VERY strong contraction! My water broke when I went to the bathroom. It was CONSTANT gushing, I remember sort of laughing and fumbling around trying to do something about that.

I woke Jason around 1 am and he suggested we try to sleep some more, which is what they tell you to do in Lamaze. I laid down to have another violent contraction. I told him there was no way I could sleep and that we should get ready. My contractions were coming full force. Jason started timing them--3 minutes apart. He called the doctor, my mom and dad and started getting the car packed up, while I was on all fours just trying to hold the baby in.

The drive to the hospital seemed to take forever. We got there at 2. I went into the emergency room doors and fell to my hands and knees, having contractions, breathing, sweating, my pants falling down... I remember imagining that my pain was going out through my fingertips and into the ground. It was the most surreal thing... Jason came in after me and they wheeled me up to the maternity ward.

They checked my cervix--8 cm they said. The doctor was called and he got there very fast. They strapped a heart monitor to my belly and the baby's heart rate was dropping, so I had to lay on my side while they gave me oxygen and it came back up. It wasn't long before I was at 10 cm dilated. I pushed through a few contractions and out she came, at 3:27 am, a very plump, hairy, healthy girl. Jason was crying and I was so relieved. She was 8 lb. 13 1/2 oz and was 21 1/4 in. long. It was a Tuesday morning. I had a frozen diaper in my disposable panties and a new little person in my arms. We stayed until Thursday morning. I had one stitch.

...

I just can't say it any better than I said it last year:
Mina, you are a very strange kid and I love you for it. You are curious and sensitive, thoughtful, creative... You are endlessly fascinating and beautiful. I wish that every moment of your life could be happy and I get sad when you are sad. I hope we can make you strong without making you tough, make you wise without making you jaded. I hope we can teach you to behave without traumatizing you. I hope we can teach you to create without stifling you. I hope we can give you wings that will take you far. You think being a kid is scary--it's nothing compared to being a parent hoping and praying for their child.

Thankfully, I suspect that you need our help a lot less than we think you do. You're already strong. You're already wise beyond your years. You know things before we have a chance to teach you, and you are already so much more creative than I could ever be. We just have to try, try, try not to crush your wings.

...

This year you aren't sick on your birthday! You're at school enjoying the cupcakes I brought in for the class! You get to have a birthday party with your classmates, and your grandma is even here. I hope that makes up for the lousy day you had last year a little.

This year you are so much more confident than I've seen you in a long time. I love how proud you are of being a big kid, showing your sister the ropes. You say things like, "Think of how that ant must feel..." You can read chapter books! This is such an exciting time for me to be your mom! This year the ophthalmologist said our efforts were likely to be futile--that there was little to no hope for your lazy eye. We didn't give up and your eyesight is improving dramatically! This year the dentist said he didn't believe you would be able to keep the permanent tooth you pulled out, but you were very good and careful and it stuck! You're the kid who beats the odds.

I'm so proud of you and I hope you always know how much your mom, dad, siblings, grandparents, great-grandparents, aunts, uncles, and everyone who is lucky enough to know you LOVE you. Keep on being awesome.

Good Grief!

Jason was totally grossed out by the picture of my mouth ulcer. He says I shouldn't have posted it. Now I'm embarrassed. I really have no idea what's gross and what isn't. I guess I like looking at gross pictures of injuries and diseases. *shrug*

Sorry.

Quiet Week

This has been a quiet week for me. Usually when I'm having a quiet week I'm busy thinking. This week I'm not thinking a lot. I'm just sort of resting, and keeping busy--if that makes sense. I've been living in jeans and t-shirts, no make-up. I'm not interested in being pretty or looking well put together this week. I'm not sad, I just feel like laying low and doing busy work.
I've been working on this painting for a lovely little boy I know who thinks pi is beautiful. And it is. It's also a little maddening, I think, but that's me... I get upset about things that have no end.My whiteboard which reminds me what I'm doing, and that I've been very productive, and allows me to see all that needs to be done, big and small, neatly categorized...
These are the bane of my existence. No, not teeth. Mouth ulcers. I don't get them as often as I used to, but I've had one all week and I don't want to talk, or eat, or even drink. This little guy is making the whole side of my face hurt. It is right on a saliva gland and it rubs just so on my teeth, so that it is always being aggravated.

I hope you all have a good weekend!

Not a bad Sunday

So far today has been... Good/interesting.

This morning every time I got to thinking anything about anything, I sort of started freaking out. Finally I was just going into the kitchen when it caught up with me and took me down. So I had a little crying jag on my kitchen floor, and my gracious husband talked me through it. It made me think of the cat litter dream. Who knew he was so good at dealing with messes?

Mina spent the morning in her room because she lied yesterday. It was a totally funny lie, too. I was taking Cullen's toys out of the girls' room and Mina was cupping her hands together, saying, "I don't have one of Cullen's cars in my hands!" Oh, Mina.

Jason made omelets for brunch. He saw Julia Child make an omelet and wanted to try doing it exactly the way she did it, right down to using chopsticks to beat the eggs. They were delicious! He even cleaned up the stove. Jason, you're hired!

Leta and I went down to the Willy St. Fair. I don't think either of us really enjoyed it. We got a smoothie and some egg rolls, walked up and down, and then left. She didn't want to listen to any music. I enjoyed walking with Leta and holding her hand, but we could have done that without the crowd... Though, she probably only allowed me to hold her hand because she didn't want to lose me in the crowd.

Now Leta is asleep next to me on the couch, huffing her doggy blankie as usual. She'll be bringing that thing to college someday. *sniffle*

Dreams -n- Plans

Last night I had a bit of a nightmare.

I realized, in my dream, that I had a cat! And I'd completely forgotten about the whole litterbox thing for a few years. I was so mad at myself for not remembering to clean the litterbox. I kept thinking, "What is WRONG with me?"

As I went downstairs I braced myself for the horror. Halfway down I realized a pipe was spraying water everywhere... When I got down to the bottom there was a big pile of litter that was about five feet by five feet. I cried as I scooped it into bags, and then there was a knock at the door and the doctor came in. He got down on his knees and started scooping cat poo into bags with me and explaining what can happen if you let it build up. I was really embarrassed but relieved to have the help.

I was really glad, when I woke up, that it was just a dream! But of course it never really is "just a dream", is it? Thanks for helping me clean up the mess, doc.

This is going to be a good weekend. I wish it were a little cooler, but I think we can still have fun. I don't think we'll do the farmer's market, but maybe the Willy St. Fair at some point and perhaps the arboretum to let the kids run around... Maybe I can talk my lovely husband into taking pictures... Yessss...

Bon week-end!

Need: Pastry, Chocolate, Cream Cheese Filled Things

And girlfriends. I could go for a night of cheesy movies, yoga pants, delicious things to eat, lounging around with good friends. Who wants to have a slumber party? ;)

I wanted to try to write every day but I've got nothing going on upstairs...

I promise to come back in a week or two full of zest and pizazz. I'll tell you what I think about cherries in my soda, kids today, the law of conservation of energy, and most importantly, how many small animals I've got tangled up in my hair.

See you then!

It's that time of the year

Time for using the light box, taking vitamin D (thanks for the reminder, Dr. Dude) and taking happy pills.

We finished watching Six Feet Under last week and that has had me in a rather stormy, internalized state--thinking about life, and what makes us who we are, who I am and what I want my life to be...

What makes us who we are? The things we like or don't like, the way we feel, the way we treat others? Why are some people driven by motive x and others driven by motive y? Are you the things you think about? Are you the ways in which you've touched others lives? Do I exist when you take away my hobbies, the people I love, the things I want to do... When you take away all context, how is Hilary? What is Hilary? Is Hilary? Is there something wrong with feeling like I need all of these things to know my place in space? Is there something wrong with needing to lean up against a wall to know that you have a body?

Babble...

I have decided to start a new series of paintings and try to keep very busy with that. I picture my brain oozing out through my fingers and my paintbrush and onto a canvas... I picture smiling and feeling at peace in my vacuous state.

I need this.