Ole Green Eyes Strikes Again

Every once in a while my cardinal sin of envy rears up and smites me, and smites me hard. It happened a few days ago when I read about a project on kickstarter.com that has made over 400% of its goal. Normally my eyes are a squidgy grey but they quickly turned blazing emerald when I read that. I spent the next hour or so wallowing in my envy, marinating in it- not a pretty sight. It was a truly unlovely thing.
My own kickstarter project has made its goal but has stalled at just under 120% of its goal with 19 days to go. Am I content with that? Noooo... I want 400% too! Inside, I was stamping my foot, holding my breath and throwing a right royal tantrum.
But now I am over it for the most part and have been racking my brains trying to figure out how to shake that pledge tree in the remaining days. I do have to mention that the project in question was all about sex and my project, while it depicts a fair number of naughty bits is just that- a bit naughty, mostly punnish, and clever.
Do I begrudge them their 400%? No, I congratulate them on their achievement. I have to believe that there is enough for us all or I will just set myself back to where I was 2 years ago- a (non)spiritual place I hope to never revisit.
But, man oh man, 400%....

When the Going Gets Tough...

the tough wash dishes. This evening was both the opening of a small show in the Founders Gallery at the WAAM and its annual year-end awards announcements. I was gratified to be awarded an Honorable Mention for my piece in the show, "Wings." And I have to admit that I had thought I had a really good shot at getting one of the year-end awards. People seemed especially happy to see me at the event so I thought maybe they knew something.

But I was wrong. It is impossible for me to be churlish about the artists who did win, Elin Menzies and Meredith Rosier, they are both very fine artists and one is good friend, but I am still disappointed. So, what did I do to handle my envy (my most besetting-sin,) self-pity and guilt? I came home and washed dishes. I find the simplest domestic acts seem to bleed off all the negative feelings. Perhaps it is improvement in my surroundings, easily achieved; perhaps it is the warm sudsy water; the combination of the contemplative and the insistent presentness of the chores; whatever it is, it works. So I have a clean kitchen and relief that I did not act on my inner-child's temper-tantrum...

One of these days my emotional age will catch up with my chronological age.