Always The Bridesmaid

Once upon a time there was a happy little Bridesmaid. She purchased the appropriate attire for the early 90's wedding, a dress the bride had picked out to match the theme of her big day. She never complained about the cost of said dress or the additional funds for matching black velvet pumps... vowing that both were very practical items and felt privileged to be a witness for the now divorced couple. This was a no brain er, she felt the dress was something she would use on many occasions being that it was oh so stylish and ill fitting.

Feeling up for the task Bridesmaid did her job well. From embarrassing the bride with a surprise shower... complete with tacky tissue bells and customary paper plate and bow hat. At the wedding she was a smash,what with her speech alienating friends, and her oh so drunken dance off;... revealing more of her wobbly bits then necessary..she was a bridesmaid to remember. History in the making..many strive but fail to reach her level of expertise

After fulfilling her duties so well.. Bridesmaid hung said dress in her closet knowing that it wouldn't be long before she could wear the sexy little number again. Sadly the days flew by, soon days became years and the little dressed was lovingly carried to each new abode Bridesmaid lived in. Each new closet came with a renewed vow to unveil it again....the perfect occasion was just around the corner. What Bridesmaid failed to see was as she grew...the dress stayed the same....still not very stylish and not really something she would wear. Styles and fashion had changed, her love of wrapping her body in loud bright colors had stopped many years ago. This past time went out with teasing her hair and destroying the ozone with aerosol hair spray.....times they were a changing.

Now purging was a new art form Bridesmaid had mastered and soon that involved the cozy little closet that said dress resided in. It lay there in a heap...amongst the leg warmers and plastic hoop earrings pleading its case. Try as she might Bridesmaid felt guilty for breaking her vow and stripped off her sweats and struggled every inch of her over sized body into that dress. The dress felt tighter and shorter then she remembered. It bulged in some places and puckered in others. The zipper no longer met and the slit hardly gave off a peek a boo effect. The words "over stuffed sausage" danced in her brain.

Still Bridesmaid rallied...she felt certain with the strategically placed accessories this dress could be saved. Maybe with a slight alteration this is the kind of thing you could pop down to your local Starbucks with out feeling over dressed. A trip to the grocery store could become something special....perhaps attracting that much younger stock boy you have had your eye on. Doing the "bend and snap" in this dress would surly get you better service at your local Home Depot. The possibilities were endless.

Feeling better about things Bridesmaid notice her skin was turning a lovely shade of purple. Soon her breathing was becoming shallow and labored..the little dress was attacking her. All those years of neglect had come to a boiling point and the dress was angry and fighting back. Time was slipping away and with out a thought Bridesmaid grabbed the scissors and cut away her enemy. Relief flooded in...she felt victorious.

Staring down at the now lifeless dress, Bridesmaid wanted to mark this occasion. She scooped off the pearl and sequin broach that came with the dress and stuck it on a blank canvas. It looked lost on the huge white canvas so she grabbed some brushes and swirls of blue paint. She splattered and splashed and mucked about. As she worked she sang in tune to the radio feeling so free and happy. She had lived up to her vow ...she did use the dress again or parts of it....and now that badge of honor hangs on someone else's wall.

(broach was used for earring in this painting)

Wouldn't You Be Happy To Recieve This Email?

While snooping around on Facebook...I found a link to some one I think is an old school friend. The problem with women getting married and changing their last names is it makes it frustrating to find them if you don't know the new last name. So I sent this...of coarse I will change the names here to protect the innocent or not so in this case...plus in case she grew up to be a nun or is now running for senate I wouldn't want to cause problems for her....let me know how this sounds to you?

Did you used to be called "Jane Doe" and go out with a guy named "Dick"? Did you take a rather dangerous drive down "The Yellow Brick Road" in a souped up burgundy Camero with me and my (then) boyfriend "Prince Charming"? Did you then watch said boyfriend walk out in to the middle of the ocean very drunk while we screamed for him on the shore? Did you help me name said boyfriends wet jeans his "Sex Boots"after he staggered back in. Did you ever skip out of school so we could go on the Tilt A Whirl at the "Drunken fair"?....if you are not the above mentioned "Jane Doe" and never did any of those crazy teenage things quoted here, I am sorry to have bothered you. If you are...OH MY GOD..How The Hell Are You????

I think Its rather a fun surprise...I would love a email like that. Care to send me one?

Sure, Why Not

Don't Be Afraid To Sing Along, I Know You Want To.

Before playing this you need to turn off the videos on the right hand of the page.

Is This Thing On?...

I was thinking about my blog while dabbling in a sea of blue paint. I have neglected my little blog for awhile...feeling like no one was listening and who really cares if I wrote something.

Yes, I am painting again, albeit some what rusty, I am applying brush to canvas. Once more my friend creativity has reared her fickle head and allowed the paint gods to communicate with me. I was in such a state after the *B.T.E, (for those of you who don't know me personally I refer to my "Big Tragic Event" in the short form).....I just couldn't be bothered with painting, it was just another thing I had to take care of and with my plate being very full with grief, remorse, would haves, should haves, blah blah ..I could not be bothered.

I filled my time with procrastination, cultivating dust bunnies, and an insane amount of shopping. I took the time to learn about wine, beer, vodka and other liquor based fundamentals. I studied languages by watching scads of foreign films and I am proud to say I am now bilingual in various video stores around the city. During my sabbatical I refused to answer the phone, talking to people was the last thing I wanted to do. People annoyed me... and I often told the dog scandalous things I knew about the so called friend who dared to interrupt my grief. Who does she think she is...

But one day the sun shone....I didn't feel so sluggish and my road rage was well within limits. My consumption of alcohol was brought under control and waking up didn't seem such a chore. I wasn't sure what this sensation was but I felt...dare I say it content. I felt lighter then I had in a long time(which is surprising because grieving can make you gain weight) but now I wanted to get moving. I dusted off the easel, reused some old canvas and scrubbed some forgotten brushes clean..

I cranked up the old itunes and painted along to the music. It was incredible how great I felt. Yes, the painting was rough going...paint flying all over but I didn't care...I imagine this is what it feels like to fly. The canvas is coming to life before your eyes...and I did this. It can be a very powerful feeling. Perhaps it means little to you, but life can rob you of joy and no one can take this moment away from me. I am happy and at peace for this moment. It's a little like sex...you are very in tune with your body, you have reached the peak...all systems are go...its very freeing.

She came to life and I felt like talking. We had a great conversation about what to have for dinner, the latest book I was reading or general juicy gossip . Her all knowing understanding silence was a commanding audience. I get very attached to my girls until it's time for them to move on. She posed for the camera, I toasted her with a glass of Merlot, and for the first time in along while I felt like sharing it with you.

Ciao

(* my BTE was one of my children was in a horrible car accident that left my child permanently changed for life. I lost the person they were that day and they will never have the bright future they so deserved. This happened right after the twentieth birthday as they were taking their own steps out in to this world. Grieving happens to a parent even if if they survived. A right frontal brain injury changed my child's future(through no fault of their own) and the family dynamics deteriorated. We all grief in our own ways and on our own time..this is my journey)