This one could really get out of hand.  It would just take a few clicks on Snazaroo, and I would have some high quality face paints…

Several times now, I have painted the kids’ faces for various reasons, and each time, I have felt like painting faces is, like, the most funnest thing to do, like, ever.  So when That Neighbor Chick asked me to paint faces for That Neighbor Kid’s zoo birthday party, I tried to act sophisticated and benevolent.  Yes, of course, I will sacrifice my time for you, my friend.  She bought me some face paints from Hobby Lobby, I had myself a quick hour-long obsession in face-painting world, and…  wheeeee!

Now, usually, the audience for the painted faces is rather small–a birthday party, or, at most, our teeny tiny town’s 4th of July fireworks.  This weekend, though, I got to parade my face art the kids got to walk around the zoo on free day!  Which means there were about one hundred million bazillion people there!  And my ego enjoyed a good stroking with each passing zoo-goer compliment.  My ego is easy. 

The next day, the kids asked me to paint their faces again.  Knowing a good cleaning diversion when I see one, I jumped at the opportunity.  They were quite pleased with themselves, especially the Kung Fu Panda-inspired Tai Lung and Tigress.  Afterward, I divided my face into thirds, and let them each paint a section.  How unfortunate that I forgot to upload that picture…  It was beautiful.  Really.

I am pleased to announce that I have finally found my calling  (insert angelic Hallelujah Chorus here):   When I grow up Now that I am all grown up, I’m going to be a Professional Obsessor.  Yes!  Right?  It does make sense, doesn’t it?  I do realize that this is not a paid position.  But when one finds one’s calling, one must yield to fate.

No, no, not the bad, clinical, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder kind of obsessor.  (Really, OCD is absolutely not compatible with life in this house.)  I’m thinking the kind of obsessive that, for example, might cause one’s every thought to center around, oh, say…  Waldorf Dolls.  The kind of compulsive that might cause one to, oh, say… purchase a good deal of Waldorf-Doll-making materials (after, of course, extensive Waldorf-Doll-making research), and place Waldorf-Doll-making above essentials like house-cleaning, laundry-doing, and showering on one’s list of priorities.  (Photo is the beginning of a Waldorf-style doll head.  Exciting, eh?!?!)

That’s not bad!  That’s not clinical!  It’s inspired.  It’s… focused.

The thing is, this tendency to, um, focus, on something (a hobby, idea, project, etc.), does eventually become quite plastic.  Distractable focus.  It is like Attention Excess Hyperactivity Disorder, with frequent lapses that leave me just enough time to latch onto a new obsession.

It is rather predictable.  They arrive unbidden, these potential obsessions.  Some of them stick, some of them don’t, but most of them, after we have our quickie, end up filed away for later.  Like the fantasy novel I started writing a few years ago.  That little fella–ooh, I do so love him–is stuck in traffic.  He’s found himself in the right lane, dammit, and is watching for a break in the obsession traffic of my brain–debating whether or not he has room to cut knitting off.  Knitting would so flip him off. 

Anyway, I’m adding a blog category: Recent Obsessions.  If I’m going to be crazy, I might as well try to make it entertaining.  Upcoming (yeah, I can even anticipate them) obsessions include espresso and Waldorf Dolls (obviously!).  *sigh*  The line between love and obsession is paper thin, especially in my world.  And I’m OK with that.  Because it is my calling.

p.s.  “Get an effin’ life!”  “Get a job!”  “Clean your damn house!” and similar comments are welcomed.  They will be ignored, but they are welcomed.

I packed up my favorite Christmas tree ornaments today–a vintage gift from Hercules’ mom a few years ago. I love these things. I could keep them up all year. I found it strange that, although I am completely incapable of cleaning the house, I had to arrange each reindeer in order of their appearance in the song. It is like some strain of OCD gone wrong. Oh, so very wrong.