FINDING SPECKS OF SOMETHING IN A BOWL FULL OF NOTHING

Today, before I was arisen, I got a wooping 3 hours of sleep. They say 1-3 hours of sleep is worse than not sleeping at all...but I don't think I'm buying it. I went to paint at my sisters today, and that's why I had to leave at 6:30 in the morning: for the two hour drive. Mush to my dismay, the majority of the paint was all over me- legs, arms, hair, everywhere.

Namely, the specks of paint on my arm told a much deeper story than that of being clumsy with a roller brush. My uncle Ricky, who past away to brain cancer last year, was a painter. Every now and then, when he wasn't sitting on his porch drinking a beer, I would catch him coming back from a hard days work. He would always be wearing a plain white shirt, white jeans, white shoes, and a white ballcap. The ironic part is that hardly ever were these white clothes white. There would always be different, intricut patterns on these clothes of his. Not only were the clothes colored, but his arms and face as well. Today, the tiny white specks scattared all over my arms reminded me of how he always use to have those very same marks.

Needless to say, I wore my "scars of battle" with pride for the rest of the day.

======Quote of the Day=======

Kyle (my nephew, age 4): Hey Tasha, you have a really BIG BUTT!

Tasha (my sister, age 30): Oh yeah? Well you have a really LITTLE...you KNOW what!