My face looks thin in the mirror.
Scale says I weigh more.
Is this an obsession or an observation?
Having a dozen bundles of cut weeds hanging from the bath house, to dry and collect the yellow flowers from feels obviously obsessive.
I like repetitive mundane tasks. It's the farm girl in me (I think).
I bought strips of papers to fold german stars with.
In my twenties I worked at a day spa as a massage therapist.
I really wanted to be doing important work. But most clients just wanted a luxurious nap.
When the economy was in a nosedive, I had a lot more free time.
So I'd sit in the break room, cutting strips of paper from the beauty magazines. And methodically folding them into german stars.
Eventually I had bags and bags of them. Hundreds of pointy paper things.
I tied them together using fishing line.
Imagined I'd hang them from my bedroom ceiling. Never got around to it in time.
They finally found their way into an apple bucket.
I'd stolen it from my grandparents' house after my Grandpa Jack died.
His real name was John, but apparently he preferred Jack.
I didn't know his real name until shortly before he died.
I stole the apple bucket, a giant industrial incandescent lightbulb, a random wooden box that it would fit inside, and my grandfather's metal social security card.
He was born in 1927 so they made things that really last a lifetime. Including social security cards. His signature carved into it.
I made a magnet out of it and stuck it to my fridge when I moved into the ambulance.
Those damn german stars followed me everywhere for way too long.
There wasn't room for them in the ambulance, just the magnet.
When I bought my house, I found a new apple bucket at Goodwill. I bought it.
Not the same, since my grandpa didn't own it. But it still makes me smile thinking about him when I see it.
I want to make german stars out of magazines, and not orderly paper like origami strips.
I really am cut out for being an artist.
Doing repetitive, mundane, knowing eventually it might all turn out for something or nothing or total dog shit and burst into flames.
And that's perfectly okay.
Getting dressed yesterday I really took a long look at my feet on the tile floor.