The good and the bad… the ups and the downs… gross. Right now, I’d happily trade in those amazing “ups” for a steady, potato-soup-like emotional consistency if it means that I don’t have to deal with the “downs”.

One of my “ups” happened yesterday. Waking up, I was dreading the day ahead of me because I knew that by evening time, I would have aged 10 years because this season’s trade show is determined to destroy souls (haha! joke’s on it because I don’t have a soul!! Take that, asshole tradeshow!). But in the mail, I actually got a letter- which is rare because the only things I ever get in the mail are bank statements and the U-line Office Supply catalogs that they send me every other day (I swear to christ I must have 152,897 of these things… I could build a goddamn house with them). But this was an honest-to-god letter with actual handwritten words and a stamp and everything!! So I open up the envelope, and out falls a magical golden chicken! I have an obsession with chickens- I just adore them. They have the weirdest social behavior, and they walk like dinosaurs (or what I picture the dinosaurs in my head walking like… I have lots of dinosaurs living in my head). They are funny, and beautiful, and maternal and can be vicious- and I adore them. So when this chicken popped out of the envelope, my day’s frown immediately turned upside-down. Along with it was the most amazingly wonderful little letter from one of my customers who had seen the chicken and thought of me- so she sent it to me. Here is the beautiful chicken of splendor…..

Did I mention it was a necklace? Well, it is. Which means I can take it with me on my adventures everywhere I go. We will gallantly battle traffic, and fight the evil-doings of ill-behaved clothing-sample-makers and 9 year olds across the globe- side by side, till death or dishonor do us part. Thank you, wonderful Heather, for my magical golden chicken.

I would like to note that this isn’t the first chicken-related happy-day present that I have received from my customers that I adore so very very much (and I do adore you all). Beautiful Rena sent me the beginnings of what will be the costume I wear when I take over the planet:

And when I take over the planet, not only will I wear that chicken mask, but I will also carry that chicken art with me every step of the way.

Here’s a small peek at a little bit of my chicken collection… though they are now safely behind glass in a display case because my dick-wad kitten Daisy Stupid Face liked to attack them, and I feared for their lives:

Along with this amazing “up”, came the crashing “down”. The down being that no matter how many happy-faced bandaids I stick all over this “I have no samples for the trade show” debacle… the blood keeps gushing out. It’s like trying to kiss a heart attack to make it better. I’m still short 2 complete shirt body styles, and about 10 color variations to display at the show- and I just can’t pull that rabbit out of a hat. BUT I found the most fantastic company right by my house that does embroidery, and they are beautiful people and do all kinds of magic in their shop… so if this trade show does go tragically pear-shaped, I can still save my ass by creating a ton of super fun stuff over the next few months.

To set the emotional roller coaster on full speed, I started analysis today. I hate using the term “therapy” because it just sounds so cuddly and comforting (which I’m sure is why they stopped calling it “analysis” and started referring to it as “therapy”). Analysis sounds better… more clinical… something formed in the safe and fact-based womb of science. I was raised in analysis, and it isn’t cuddly and comforting… it’s some brutal work on your brain, and taking on the daunting task of looking at yourself naked under a microscope and changing all the broken things about you so that you can be happy. There are no cuddly bunnies to be found in analysis. BUT it’s good, and honest, and (for me, at least) produces results in fixing the things that I need to fix. I’m trying to work on my anger. I’m a pretty hostile person- but it’s a happy hostility. I’m always laughing while verbally raping the things I despise. But lately, the hostility has taken over the happy- and that scale needs to be readjusted… and I can’t figure out how to do it on my own. And making paintings of the pent-up rage just isn’t cutting it anymore- so off to analysis I go! This may seem like a really personal thing to be writing about in a public forum- but I started seeing shrinks when I was 9, and they were a heavy part of my upbringing… so I really don’t understand it when people are so “hush-hush” about it. If you have a busted muffler on your car, you aren’t going to secretly take it to a mechanic and hide it from your friends and family. So if you’ve got a broken emotional state, you take it to a professional and get the damn thing fixed. Granted, I’m not going to divulge any intimate personal details that are no one’s business but my own… but yeah… analysis… no big deal. But for the time being, it will add emotional stress to an already boiling and overcooked state that is going on in my head. But it will get better in time… one way or another.

I have 2 cats, a 9 year old, and a husband all fighting for my attention. No rest for the wicked (or for exhausted mothers).

Off I go to put out more fires.