Experience Counts

(scene opens in cluttered kitchen)

Carrot: (cooking dumplings)

Husband: (hovering)

Gamma: (runs in, lips blue and glittery, holds up eyeshadow pallet) Mom! When can I use the eyeshadow?!

Carrot: (distracted) I forgot to order brushes. I’ll pick some up tomorrow and you can play around with it.

Husband: She can use sponges for that, right? (Goes to mudroom cabinet)

Carrot: What? Wait! No! She can’t use those!

Husband: Why not? I used them to put on make up.

Carrot: Clown make-up!

Husband: I fail to see the difference.

Carrot: Point. But no. Could everyone just believe the one person in this room that actually has worn make-up? I’ll get the right brushes tomorrow.

Husband: I’ve worn make up. I’m also the person who has worn make-up most recently.

Carrot: CLOWN MAKE-UP!

Husband: Again, I fail to see the difference.

Ars Gratia Artis

(scene opens in dining room)

Me: (slowly and carefully assembling flower pieces)

Beta: (enters from kitchen) Those are really pretty mom. Can I pick one up?

Me: (abstractly) Sure. Be careful.

Beta: Now what are you going to do with them?

Me: (sighs) I don’t know.

Beta: Something else to lay around the house and gather dust?

Me: (reprovingly) Maybe. Not all art is profitable. Sometimes we do it anyway. Because we can. It makes the world a prettier place.

Too Much Creativity

(scene opens in tossed parlor)

Gamma: (fresh from school) Mom! I have to make a machine for school tomorrow!
Me: Wha..? Why?
Gamma: I…(self aware pause) I didn’t finish it in class. Maybe draw it?
Me: Do you have to make or draw?
Gamma: (mental processing) …both? I need a machine that makes my life easier with snacks.
Me: (can’t even) With what? Snacks?
Gamma: Whatever we have in the house. Its a machine about snacks.

(scene cuts to cluttered dinning room)

Me: There. You have styrofoam cups, bendy straws, tape, scissors, and this aluminum tray you brought home from school. Have at.
Gamma: Whee!(proceeds to cut everything into confetti)
Me: Uh, what are you making?
Gamma: I’m just cutting.
Me: What about your snack machine?!?
Gamma: (surveys carnage) Oh. I forgot.

Not a Rickroll

(scene opens at dinner table)

Beta: My music teacher told me that I needed to watch 4:33.
Me: (processing) What?
Beta: 4:33. Both he and the orchestra teacher were laughing about it. It’s a music video.
Me: Oh! Yes. (starts laughing) Of course we can watch it. (calls up the orchestral version of John Cage’s 4’33)

(minute goes by)

Gamma: When are they going to start playing?
Beta: For real. They’re just sitting there.

(second minute goes by)

Beta: I don’t get it. Why is this funny?
Gamma: They’re not playing.

(third minute goes by)

Gamma: This is boring! Where’s the music?!
Beta: (extreme suffering) I don’t get it! Tell me why this is so funny!
Me: (calls up the sheet music for 4’33)
Beta: (incredulous) Rests. The whole thing is rests. Why the hell would anyone write a piece of just rests!? And why wouldn’t anyone think that’s funny?
Me: (starts giggling)

As you do

(scene opens with two women looking over the map, making travel plans)

Her: This route will take us past the Cadillac Ranch. A few minutes out of our way, but good for a photo op.
Me: Does the brothel have a buffet? Is it even safe to eat at a brothel buffet? I don’t know the protocol on that.
Her: (stares incredulously)
Me: Am I thinking something else?
Her: (continues to stare)
Me: OH! Mustang Ranch! I totally confused my art installation with my famous brothel. Gotcha.