A sweet distraction

As you may know, Christine is getting married and the preparations have begun. Location: check. Groom: check. Priest: check. Awkward discussions about whom should be invited: check. Budget: check-ish. Dress: CHECK.


We drove to Staten Island to the "Brides Against Breast Cancer" wedding dress sale. Couture and non, all for sale. Lovely volunteers with sad and triumphant stories to share. And all the proceeds go to breast cancer research.

I had taken the day off from work. The weather was perfect; slightly chilly, but the sun was shining. We followed the Google directions which led us through historic towns (who knew) and stereotypical neighborhoods. The Renaissance, where the sale was held, looked like something out of My Big Fat Greek wedding- pillars, back lit Greek busts, faded carpets, silk flowers, grand staircase.

She could take three dresses in to the very public dressing room, but after the first batch, we took in many more. So many pretty and atrocious dresses. Having gone shopping once before, I didn't have high hopes, but having many more options available gave me hope. There were some that were fabulous on her (let's face it, having an hour-glass figure makes shopping much easier). Some that were OK, some that had one flaw that kept it from being "the one." We've watched TLC and seen "Say Yes" but I didn't expect it to be like that- where there is that moment when you know she's found it and you know this is what she'll be wearing next year when she walks down the aisle. But she did find it. It fits perfectly. Wedding dress: check.


Now on to the invitations, the hotel accommodations, the rehearsal dinner, the after wedding party, etc. etc. etc. bring it on.

Why Calligraphy?

Calligraphy is the art of beautiful lettering. From the Greek word...Blah blah blah. But what is it? And what is it to me?

I have always loved to read and write. Letters and the power they wield when turned into words. And words made lovely by twisting and turning a pen, a pencil, a brush, a strip of cardboard. Using ink, chalk, paint or water. I not only sound better when I sing in the shower, my fingers create the most amazing letters on the shower door. There, the sides of my fingers and a smidgeon of my nail sweep across the glass, and an "S' becomes magical. A hint of a shadow, and unintended swirl.


This artform can express so much. Anger, joy, peace, tension. And within each project I disappear. Paper after paper, I experiment with words and thoughts that need to be told.


So I teach these classes to help other people express themselves beyond the verbal. To stand in front of a chalkboard and feel the sweep of your arm as it forms the letter "a." Stroke 1, stroke 2, now stroke 3- aha. Larger than life. You learned this letter when you were so tiny, but now it feels as if you are writing it for the first time. But let's perfect stroke 1. Sweep, sweep, sweep. Feels like a rounded check mark, doesn't it? Check, check, check. There is a rhythm. But don't rush it. Not yet. Let us perfect the motion, the balance. Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh. So come and play with me during my class. I have books, and toys, and worksheets. It's a fun and quick two hours and you won't mind doing the homework. I promise!

New Lease

I have this incredible desire to....nevermind. Another day.

Just because

Just because I am sitting here at the computer, and there was a reason I got on here, but I don't remember what that was so I got on Facebook and saw pictures of my friend Sandy from elementary school and saw that she had a million friends already, so I looked at all the people she had as friends which led me to look a this one person's page who I was never friends with and their they were- the pictures of the popular people having fun in high school, going to parties, laughing, always smiling, like nothing ever bothered them because they were beautiful and athletic and popular and it seemed like they all came from rich families with older parents, and I know this all seems silly, but there is something about Facebook that stirs up the loneliness of high school (for me, the awkward weird girl), and it's interesting because some people have looked me up and shared stories with me that I would never have expected to hear, but am honored that they feel they can share them with me, so I guess Facebook can help the unconnected feel connected, remind us of how fabulous/sucky high school was and make me glad I am a grown up and can choose who I play with. the end.

I have to say this.

I grew up in Indiana. Northwest, in Hobart, next to Gary. I thought I grew up in the state of Chicago. We were south of Lake Michigan and had the Dunes National Lakeshore nearby. When I was younger, I was embarrassed by the corn fields and "the Midwest" stereotype, and couldn't wait to leave. Typical for young people. The grass is always greener, etc. But now I know better- because people in the Midwest are content, they are honest and they are loving. Not all of them, but the ones I know. My family, my friends. Not perfect, but I know them. I trust them.

Growing up in Indiana- I was not deprived of culture. I cannot stand when people assume that if you're from the Midwest you are somehow "lacking." How dare you. How dare you say that if someone stays in the Midwest it means that they don't know any better? That they don't have the benefit of your wisdom, your knowledge, your...whatever. What is it that they think we missed in Indiana? Art? Had it. Education? Had it. Diversity? Had it. Music? Had it. Scenic landscape? Had it. Water? Had it. Sports? Had it. I cannot think of what was missing. Snobs? yeah- they were there. Racism? Yup. Liberals? Yup. Conservatives? Yup. Religion? Yup- all of them.

I have lived all over the country and there are commonalities- the rich, the poor, the ignorant, the well-meaning, the shallow, the bigoted, the martyrs, the drunk, the lazy, the hard-working, the people I wish I could be more like.

Was my life perfect in Indiana? No. Would I move back there? Absolutely. It's not an option for me, but given the chance- I would. The smell of the corn in the summer, the apples in the fall. The bitter wind in the winter and the sound of the robins in the spring. I would go back.

Edit

Christine gives me a hard time for not posting enough. So here is a quickie before I get ready for work. These were the blogs written in my head this week:
Feeling peaceful.
Being angry.
Losing confidence.
Frustrated with "art."
Love my job. Hate my job.
Loving Matthew: Christine- turn your head. I stop at home between meetings and Matthew asks if we are alone. I say- only for a minute. He asks-do we have enough time? I say- not enough to do it properly; to which he responds: I'm ready to do it improperly. I love this guy.

I'm trying to do something nice for his parents' 5oth next weekend- even though they are unaware (I think). Grace is cleaning out her room and donating clothes. Heavy sigh. I'm trying to keep my job, but my paranoia is rearing its ugly head. My eldest is 25 today. Rosie had a job interview. Emily is far away. Life keeps moving, but I'm frozen.

Ok. Ok.

I've been reading blogs every day while on vacation and not posting anything. Well, not posting anything physically. What you need to know is that I do all of my projects and blogs and chores in my head. There, they are complete. I may seem like a slacker for not finishing things, but they are complete- in my mind. I write a blog everyday. I finish a painting or a calligraphy piece- every day. I am actually quite busy in my little brain. Putting it down in physical words or on canvas seems redundant. I have already written this. So it seems insincere and not spontaneous when I type it. I like to write things once. It flows out of me and onto the paper or into Word, and there it is perfect. Leave it alone. If you edit it, I am offended. There is a reason it is written that way. Rarely has someone made significant changes that I agree with. I know this sounds rather obnoxious and "prima dona" but the words and their arrangement is mine.


Vacation has been interesting this year. We are 16 people in two condos- next door to each other, yet it seems like we are on separate vacations. Normally we rent a house in New England and we are all together- though we were on different floors a few years ago. Still, it felt more unified. The family is growing and new members have joined us. There are babies to accommodate, young adults who get bored. They are too young to go to bars, and too poor to do anything but hang with the family. When they wander away, I have this image of Natalie Holloway, and the press judging me, "How could you let them go off on their own? You are a terrible mother and this is your fault."




We know next year we will go back to New England, but there are pluses and minuses to everything. There is spectacular golf for the men-folk. The ocean and beaches are so much nicer here. But it is damn expensive. Holy Christmas! Groceries, dinners, clothes, tours, etc.

We did go into Savannah for the day. Gorgeous. Hot, humid, but gorgeous. The architecture, the history. I can see Matthew and me going there for one of our little anniversary excursions. But not for a few years. We have some major expenses projects coming up.
Onward and upward.