1 day ago
Monday, November 26, 2012
And on to the rest of the weekend. My Mom came back with me and together we have painted my living room. Ceiling, walls and moulding are all fresh and crisp awaiting the furniture delivery tomorrow. It was very hard work, but we love creating new environments. As a creature of deep routine, this is actually a change that I am excited for. All of this have left me so totally bone weary, that I do not have a creative thought in my head tonight. Completely spent.
Niters to all, see you next week. zzzzzzzzzzz xo
Monday, November 19, 2012
I love to paint and have a blast trying out new ideas with my little sister. But I am a horribly inept artist and truly wish I was better at it. I had my chance once and I blew it. Let me tell you the story...
Once upon a time, while partying in sunny Key West a Michigan girl met a handsome guy. He buys her a glass of wine and introduces himself. After two nights and many cocktails, on the last night of vacation, the man says, "Come with me to Paris, I'll teach you to paint. We'll stay at my villa and paint and drink wine." The man says that he has a small gallery here on the island, as well as one on Nantucket and one in Paris. He hands her a business card that verifies all of this. She cannot believe her ears. These are words the girl dreams of. (In fact, she still dreams of.) But she has a life and is flying out tomorrow back to the real world. It would be impossible at this time-and she can barely wrap her head around it. He says the offer is open.
So where does that leave the girl with the dream? She has realized that her reality IS her dream. No regrets. It's all in the timing. But sometimes when she attempts to paint, the thoughts of real lessons from a real artist, in Paris, creep in. She smiles and sighs. It's a lovely dream, and you can't take that away from her. Ever. And that's the reality. xo
Monday, November 12, 2012
On my 'virgin' experience in 1985, I was a single mother of a two year old. It was all that I could do to scrape together the ticket price, find an overnight sitter, (thanks, Mom) and sport a totally cool, wannabee outfit. It was a long day extending into the late night. I sported big hair, heels and an armful of rubber bracelets. Hours of dancing and signing and carousing Greektown left me energized and no worse for wear. This time? Not so much.
After drinks, dinner, drinks, dancing, drinks, snacks, drinks and walking back to our hotel, I was fried. By 3:00 a.m. it needed to be over. I was too full, too tired and my feet were killing me. Just taking off my boots required a herculean effort. Madonna delivered a strong show, but even she was only on her feet for 2 hours! Try 10 hours, girl!! The next morning, I croaked and was delivered "coffee", and began to come back to life. Upon arriving home, a quick shower and a long nap put me somewhere in the normal range of living.
Oh, I almost forgot the best part!! Blogstar alert!! While shuffling out of the Joe, I ran into Trent from "Pink is the New Blog". I noticed him, and introduced myself, telling him we have a mutual friend in Michelle, of 'Michelle's Spell' and that I read his post everyday. Trent warmly shook my hand and may I just say that he is MUCH more handsome in person. What a doll and fellow fan! I loved it..
It's with mixed feeling that I say that I almost hope it's her last tour. Don't know if I could take it again! I will make you a deal Madonna: I will retire if you will.. Please girl, I beg of you. My feet beg of you! Don't make me survive another show, because you know I will. Even if it kills me.
All hail the Queen-she rocks!!
Monday, November 5, 2012
After my much and always needed coffee, I will probably hit the walking path allowing the working peeps to have time to pull the lever. After fortification (20 grams of protein within 20 minutes of my workout), I will shower up and head two blocks over to the polls. I don't know why, but the polls always make me feel like I am doing something illegal. The officer is going to arrest me. Fraud will be my crime. Can't explain it, it just is. My gut starts churning as soon as I walk in. I will flop down my licence and prove my identity. When it's my turn, I will go into the booth and immediately start to sweat when I realize that I did not study the proposals well enough to make a valid stand. Proceeding on to the big stuff, I will curse that I cannot split my ballot as I am more a 'people voter' than a 'party voter'. Choices made, I will hope that the curtain opens and I have done everything right. That's right. Curtains. Because these choices are meant to be personal. Private. With a big exhale and great relief, I will make my way out to Denzel Washington and zoom away, happy in the knowledge that I have done my American duty-which after all, is a priviledge.
After dinner, which will probably be out, I will turn on and tune in to the election results. May the best man win and may some of what he promises turns out to be true. With luck and prayer, may our county flourish under his leadership.
That's how it works, right?