November 17, 2012
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Screw the brownies, just hand me a bourbon.
Ugh, what am I doing?
This is literally what I just said to myself as I angrily shut down my browser after trolling about aimlessly on Pinterest. Everything is so beautiful and neat and lovely.It’s all just so wonderful and frankly, I don’t have time for this bullshit anymore.
What did we do before all this whimsy the internet affords? What was I doing? I know what I’m doing now. I’m working. God, I am working so hard. I get home and I am tired. Bake your own fucking brownies Martha, I barely had enough time to wolf down a cheeseburger while marking up the financials and trying not to make too loud of chewing noises on the phone while calmly assuring yet another one that yes we DID have someone on the way…
Don’t get me wrong; I miss making things. My kids are growing up SO fast and I feel like I’m sort of watching it happen from the outskirts. They wore commercially produced Halloween costumes this year. I buy a lot of read-to-make stuff from the freezer section these days. I missed Jonah’s school play because it was during the day and I had to work.
I have to work.
Not that I wasn’t working before. Oh God knows raising kids is work. But this is a different kind of work. A different sort of making and doing and building. The pictures of what I do aren’t all soft and pretty or bright and happy. A lot of guys with dirty hands and rough voices. A lot of numbers that add up to jobs and futures. A lot of people I’m with every day that I’ve come to see as a kind of family.
I’m still making things. They just don’t photograph well.
