Manic Friday

I woke up on Friday thinking, "I'll paint a Jaguar above J's doorway today."

I laid in bed thinking about that thought as it echoed across the span of my skull and wondered where it had come from exactly. Unusually energetic I got the kiddo ready to go and his dad took him off to daycare and I slammed in an old Counting Crows CD, hauled out my paints and other accoutrement and dived in.

The CD is one I haven't listened to in eons and as I started painting, images from another decade paraded through my mind like whirling dervishes in slo-mo. I stood on a chair in the hallway and shook my booty and sang at the top of my lungs while I jabbed around on the sheetrock with Goldenrod, Basic Black, and Bark Brown. The jaguar took shape, crouching on its haunches on the moulding above the door, stretching its neck down to see what was below.

I must have been sensing danger at one point and looked up over my head (for no particular reason) and there was a spider letting itself down on a thin thread, presumably to land on the top of my head. I'm sure it was a brown recluse and I guided it promptly to the toilet where I wasted several gallons of water just because I'm paranoid that it will come back to life and try to eat me.

A few hours later, the jag was done. Previously I had painted grass around J's door, all prelude to entering his jungle/safari domain (which I haven't even started on). As I moved from Counting Crows to "angry white girl radio" (as my hubby calls it) I thought there surely must be more to do. I had to go on -- I was on fire with paint mania and the scent of old memories of an unfettered youth.

So, giraffe skin on the door it was. In my vanilla white house which is remarkably bland and untouched by creativity there is now a hiccup at the corner of our hallway where it makes a hard left turn. And there is where J came running, through the living room, across the kitchen, down the hall and slammed to a stop and stared. His finger pointed and he said, "oh!"

But after the surprise, what a gorgeous, happy smile. And another gorgeous, happy smile the next morning when I woke him up and he saw his giraffe patterned door. I love to hear his tiger roar when he imitates the jag above the door. It makes me want to paint every inch of the house, just to make him smile, just to hear him laugh.