What it feels like to be famous

Sandy in painting class

So the soothsayer told me that if I started a blog I would be famous by the end of the day Tuesday.  Today is Wednesday, apparently I woke up famous. Here is my accounting of what my first day of fame was like. I have to say that it is pretty good being famous.
Right now being famous means trying to type while a 28 pound cat keeps walking back & forth across your keyboard purring loudly and demanding that he be stroked behind the ears. He is not looking for the type of stroking that you can give half-heartedly with one hand while continuing to type with the other, no, he wants the double hand scrubby “oh you are my handsome little man” rub down. Do you have any idea what 28 pounds of cat looks like? It is a mass of sweet lovin-furry goodness that requires you to rub your hands together to gather all of the furry debris that he has left on you into little balls that will be heavy enough not to float right back out of the trash can after you drop them in.  (apparently, being famous means the freedom to right crazy long run-on sentences, with lots of commas, how I do enjoy using commas, but I digress).  This super-sized feline enjoys quite a bit of fame himself. Everyone always asks “do you still have that HUGE cat?”

Define huge: despite his ample weight, Jack is not just blubber. He is truly a HUGE cat… I will measure him for you right now. Hold on, he is not enjoying being measured…. OK, so he is 36″ long from nose to tail. He is roughly 20″ around his girth. It would be helpful of he would stop trying to eat the ruler….. god he has a big mouth, look at those teeth! When he stands up he is 15″ tall at his shoulder and he  is another 5″ tall if you go to the tippy-top of his ears for a grand total of 20″. Apparently, being famous is being as big around as you are tall.
Being famous is being greeted with a smile by your painting teacher and having him remember to say “you have a nice likeness of him there” after making you re-draw the model’s nose SIX times before giving you the go-ahead to start painting…. he is always right BTW, which can get annoying.

Being famous means a shocked look on the girl’s face when you ask her   “¿tiene alguna mangos maduros? todos estos son de color verde? ” in pretty good Spanish…. and then she says: “Su Espanol es muy bien”. Then she went & got me good ones from the secret place in the back that nobody knows about except for now I do….

Today being famous also meant getting 50 text messages from my daughter who obviously was not paying attention to her teacher, but I won’t complain when one of those messages was to say “I love you”.

All in all, being famous is a pretty good feeling. I have no people arranging lunches nor interviews. I don’t have groupies or disciples. I don’t have thousands of people who will read this blog, perhaps no one will ever see it. But I can’t complain I have a pretty great life.  I think I’ll go make something.

Sandy