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Friday, May 19, 2006


So, my daughter is a Shoshone Indian. At least, for a day. A few minutes anyway. She was part of a classroom "wax museum" - a display of characters that speak when asked to give information about their history. Kind of cool, wish I could have gone to see it, but today we had a new business pitch that needed conversion from InDesign to Word and it took all morning with two editors working on it. So yeah. I volleyed with her father about going, and he went, took pics, and sent them on to me. Her first words when I said he was trying to go, "Oh man, he's always criticizing me." But maybe he holds her to a higher standard and in general, lazy people hate that.

Please note how I slaved away on the accessories for this costume. I made a "fur shawl," a headband, and a baby wrap out of the finest WalMart cloth. But I think she put it on crooked and it just doesn't look right in this picture. No matter how often I tried to get her to take some care when she put it on for rehearsal, she just didn't give a crap. Sigh. You know how they say a mother's work is never done? It's also "dust in the wind." People don't notice when you do it right, and they sure do when you get it wrong. Ah well, keep on keepin' on. She'll be 18 one day and then I'll be begging to sew costumes and do scrapbooks and paint boxes and watch movies and play board games and go for walks. Life is comfortable but it still isn't FAIR.

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