Last Christmas I got my husband who was not yet my husband a sex canvas. I mean, no, it wasn't actually a sex canvas, but that's what we jokingly referred to it as, making it great more fun to tell people what our Christmas exchange consisted of. Love Is Art is a company that sends you a kit of a large loose canvas, body-safe paints, plastic drop cloths, and a handy leaflet of "instructions". You are to get naked and roll around together in the paint on the canvas, creating a completely lovingly custom and personal piece of "art". Honestly I bought it on the shock value alone. This man isn't easy to shop for and there it was in the Uncommon Goods catalog between a salad bowl that looks like a row boat with wooden tong oars and a make-your-own sushi kit. Neither of us like sushi and I already have a salad bowl shaped like a submarine.
He unwrapped it, we had a good laugh, and one evening after several bottles of wine we set out to, hmmm.........do art. Laughter ensued and not a paint drop of sex was to be had that night. It turns out that paint is really cold when it's all over your body. Also turns out that I'm a little freaked out by idea of paint everywhere—not just on my body but the hardwood floor and my beloved bird throw pillows. And getting stuff in my hair is not my favorite..........never mind other places.
They give you these bootie things to wear to get to the shower and if you have never ran naked through your house covered in wet paint, wearing nothing but paper booties, you are not missing anything. It's cold, awkward, and a bit embarrassing when you realize that you didn't close all of the blinds in the house and you have to turn on lights bright enough to land a plane in the bathroom in order to actually start and take the much-needed shower. Sexy, 'tis not. They also give you a loofah which is about a joke and a half given that a water-safe belt sander is a more appropriate tool for this mess. It was the first and the last shower I have taken with this man and hopefully the only shower we will ever take together in hysterical laughter combined with horror while saying things like: "what do you mean, there's paint there? Like, there there?" and "what if we end up having to go to the ER to get this all removed? What are we going to say? Seriously—let's think of something now."
Once the canvas has dried and the painted has washed off and your shower tile returns to it's original color, there is the question of what to do with the damn thing. Out of the five kids, the only one that really said anything about this new 48x36 colorful art leaning on my old bedroom wall was the 8 year old girl who just randomly stated that it looks like one of those paintings elephants do. I'm super excited about telling that little remark and the entire story of the sex canvas to adult her one day while I watch her cringe in embarrassment and agony. While I could probably go with this and say that we got it at the zoo and proudly hang it above the fireplace, it just feels wrong on so many levels. So for now it hangs above our bed in our new house and I am forever having to decorate around magenta, gold, and silver which sounded fun at checkout and now looks a little like the colors an elephant would pick out.
Anyway internet, I have moved. It took three former professional movers, a 26 foot truck, and the entire day to move all of my earthy possessions from an 1800 square foot house in Longmont that fit 3 people just fine to a 3600 square foot house in Fort Collins that will fit 7 people just fine. For the most part, nothing on my business side will change—I will still drive to Longmont to photograph my nearest and dearest clients. And over the course of March I will still be shuttling my boys back and forth because this entire move ended up getting planned around TCAP standardized testing, and therefore giving me a new distaste in the public school system on the whole. So other than my name, address, home phone number, people I share my home with, amount of children I care for, stuff in my house, my schedule, my trash company, my mailbox number, my regular grocery store, my regular gas station, and my regular Target……nothing will change. :)
And as I try to make sense out of 15 rooms and a garage that look a lot like this:
I take refuge in the one room in this house that is clean. And happens to house our non-sex sex canvas.
If you send them a picture of your finished work, they give you a 50% coupon for another kit. Next time I'm picking out colors that compliment the new kitchen. ;)