I want...Oh so many things, but right now I want ceiling fans in each room and on the veranda.
How's that for self preservation? (Running the A/C at night when it's 68 degrees is ridiculous) We have no air flow due to all the trees and the flat concrete thing I own.
In lieu of the above mentioned ceiling fans, Mer-Boy will attend "ARTWORKS". A three week long art camp provided by the city arts council.
(Whether he likes it or not says Mother Rose)
The beauty of Stage Center, is, well it looks like our home....
Concrete and re-bar showing through the walls, long narrow corridors with brilliant colors. It's a bit lacking in windows, where as I, Mother Rose would be claustrophobic if left too long. Read about it please, phenom!
You see the '70's were different. Parents were "Finding themselves" instead of their children. Oh, some did, but only to make a political/creative statement. "LOOK what MY child can do!"
I know where those 70's babies of the brat pack are now, and it's not much better than where I am. We, as in us, had our babies later in life, learned about global warming, HATED disposable diapers filling our mother...we've grown our own food, home schooled many, were changing the cycle (LOL)
So our children can be card carrying Republicans once again.
(Hey, I'm still registered Rep., but that's only due to "Him")
Wanting ceiling fans and a green roof, wanting to make this Earth better for our children...those are good wants. I get tired of being cattle. (Moo)
As gas prices are rising to $3 a gallon, and no one can afford to give their children a vacation across America in the back of a Ford Rambler Station Wagon...what's it all about, Alfie?
Mer will learn much attending ARTWORKS. He may not realize it for years to come...but this, THIS is why I took the grant writing course.
501(c)(3)'s who expose children to everything from better nutrition to a level of the Arts they may otherwise be unable to experience.
We, as communities have an obligation to mold these young lives as best we can. Lead-a-horse-to-water-type thinking.
Whether they are still wrapped in a Mobi, or are telling you they hate your guts...by God we owe them...they are all of ours.
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