I’ve been sitting here in my towel for 47 minutes wishing Toby would wake up and become my knight in shining armor and get rid of the cricket in the tub. I don’t hate bugs, I just don’t like them in my shower, especially when I’m supposed to be in the shower. I know if I climb in there with him, he will jump on me with his hairy cricket legs. Ew! I tried everything. I even put the cats in the tub and chanted our old kitten mantra “get-tha-bug! get-tha-bug!” but they just looked at me like they were way too old for this crap, and hopped right out of the tub.
So I sat and I sat, watching the minutes tick by. Then I illustrated (or mouse clicked badly) the cricket image above and wrote the first part of this post. And guess what? When I was done I went and looked in the tub and there was Pounce, eating the cricket for me.
Who’s my knight in shining armor now!!!
Illustration Friday: Fragile
I’m not sure how I’m going to explain this one. I’m not sure I even understand it myself. I thought about illustrating some delicate breakable figurines or some super ornate glass knick knacks… but it just seemed like too much work. I’m a lazy illustrator.
The other interpretation that came quickly to mind is my fragile ego. I’ve thought about this a lot (cause it’s all about me all the time here at SAJ) and I’m not sure how to broach this subject.
All my life people have been nice to me. Oh the Pain! Just kidding.
I’m not sure why though. It’s puzzling. Do I have invisible writing all over my face that says “I can’t take it”? I really don’t want to complain because I think I’d run crying to the hills if anybody started now. But it’s a strange thing. I’ve rarely gotten made fun of or been the target of someone bullying me. Sure there were a couple of times in middle school when the boys made fun of my homemade jumpers and my hopelessly un-cool saddle shoes but I was never really picked on. I don’t remember ever really getting teased by my family either. It’s almost like everybody just knows not to. I think the worst nick name my brother ever called me was “thunder thighs” and he only called me that because it was the meanest thing he could think of in response to me calling him “cupcake”. Sure I’ve always been self conscious about being pear shaped and having thighs of a speed skater but nobody ever calls me a lard ass or fat cow or even makes any comments about maybe I shouldn’t be having that whipped cream on top of my mocha.
I think the reason I’ve never been the butt of jokes is that people just know I can’t take it. Even in this blog I’m blown away by how nice everyone is in the comments. You go to any other blog and people really dish it out. Is it because I’m not the sarcastic type? Is it because I don’t use the f-word? Does that make me a sissy? I don’t know the answer and I don’t know if I could handle the answer if it was given to me. But it does make me think sometimes. I’m thankful that I’ve been protected from the cruelty of the world. I just wonder why I’m so lucky?
So anyway, don’t everybody start insulting me now. But maybe a few zingers now and then I could take.