Art Critic

The musical I have been choreographing is opening (and closing!) this weekend, and things are getting intense. I have taught so many twelve-year-olds to sway back and forth, you guys. So many. It sounds easy, but it would blow your mind how difficult basic rhythm is for preteens. Seriously.

Lately I've been so tired that I keep feeling like my real life is a dream. The edges of my vision are kind of blurry, and the sound is kind of muted, and I keep wanting to jump off a table and fly around (something I often do when I know that I'm dreaming).

I am actually drinking a can of Cherry Coke Zero right now to help me WAKE UP!

WRITING IN CAPITAL LETTERS AND USING EXCLAMATION POINTS ALSO HELPS WAKE ME! DON'T I SEEM SO AWAKE RIGHT NOW GUYS?!!!

Anyway, clearly this is all an excuse as to why I have not been posting. I think about posting a lot; I just don't follow through. The other day I considered writing about the picture my son drew that looked like a weird penis but ended up being a catapult. But then I felt badly because he was really proud of the penis-looking catapult. And I don't want to mock my own son, no matter how hilarious I think it would be. I will say that, even now, I am fighting the urge to post the picture I took of the catapult. You guys would die laughing. Ugh. It's so hard to be a decent mother who doesn't publicly-mock her child's artistic ambitions!

And that's where I choose to end this Cherry-Coke-Zero-fueled nonsense: with a vague image of a phallic catapult. Go ahead and imagine what it looks like. Draw your own and send it to me. I will give whoever's drawing comes the closest to the real thing a can of Cherry Coke Zero. Promise.

An actual catapult, from: here.