Things I see on the bus

I keep meaning to pull out my blue/brown notebook everytime I ride the bus and wait for things to happen, because they do. Like the other day, for instance, I was waiting for my bus on a bench next to the very busy intersection of 10th and Congress. As I watched longingly at the bus pulling up and wishing it to be mine, I noticed a very strange transaction. A woman on the bus was holding a huge bouquet of roses. Why? I don't know. Maybe she was selling them, maybe someone had given them to her. Who knows? While I pondered this, she plucked out a yellow rose and handed it to the skinny, scowling bus driver. As he accepted the rose, a bashful smile creeped across his face as well as a faint blush. It was a wonderful moment. He thanked her, looked desperately around for a place to display the rose before settling in the space over his shoulder.

But moments like those, for me, are hard to capture in words. My husband, Ann, Lance or any of my beautifully artistic friends would paint a splendid scene and capture the feeling or get damn near close. Unfortunately, I do not possess that gift, which is why I am not an English teacher nor a theatre teacher, who also needs to capture moments except with actors in place of pens.

I sometimes feel like I am artistic and crafty, but really I just pretend. I am horrible at sewing (practice would make me better, I know, but I still have to rely on a pattern like my life depends on it, I sucked at geometry which should tell you, dear reader, that I am not good with visualization of shapes and the end products), am only mediocre at embroidering (the first day Ginny did it, her handiwork could wrap circles around mine), and can't even make a damn hat for Ben, something I promised him a year ago.

Alas.

Now, I am getting down on myself. But the real frustrating part is I want to be able to spend time doing things I am only mediocre at so I can get good. But I don't have that kind of time! I can't carry my stuff with me, I am already carrying books and gym clothes for the day in the basket of my bike. I can't sew at home because there is no freakin space as we have two roomies renting a room they don't even use as they are nomads right now and one room being occupied by a good friend who gave me my beloved bike and a living room that is in shambles because it is too damn hot ti sand and paint the walls and build the damn bookshelf! Dammit, now I am in a pissy mood.
And I can't post pictures this time because I am on a stupid PC and not my Mac. Pout.

I apologize for my frustration today. I just get so mad when I am at home that it feels like I don't really have one, I guess. The entire living room is piled on the couches in the middle of the floor. We have to hop on one foot to the next just to get to the freakin' back door. And don't get me started on my garden.

In fact, I am just going to stop now before I get too pissy. Dammit.