two kitties/small city

Love, Loss, and What I Wore - Type of Thing.

  Prada bow belt. I have this. I bought it a few years ago imagining I'd wear it with a black shirt dress or a leopard cardigan. It sits in the drawer, next to the H belt; I never have worn either one. A red bow belt around the waist takes confidence.

 

I used to love clothes. More accurate, perhaps, to say that I used to *fall* in love with clothes. Not just the styles, the fabrics, and the textures (though, definitely all of that), but the idea of them. Where I might be going when I wore them or who I might be with.

I've gone broke for clothes more than once. Bonwit Teller collapsed in 1989, my freshman year of college. A local wholesaler bought the remaining inventory and so did I. The only purchase I remember (but there were many more) was a pair of lime green patent leather peep-toe pumps by Charles Jourdan.

I wore amazing suits on the trading floor. One of my favorite outfits was a single-breasted Lillie Rubin black and white houndstooth jacket and black pencil skirt. The red AIDS ribbon was de rigueur and if I was feeling flush with cash I popped the collar. I had a beautiful powder-blue silk suit printed with seashells and starfish that I wore once at Hotel Dupont in Wilmington and then was ruined by my dry cleaner.

The Asian currency crashes of the 90's were good financial years for us - James had placed heavy bets on those markets and his frequent travels East meant that I went with a time or two and shopped Takashimaya with my GBP and and USD. It's not often you see Dior marked 70 percent off. Divorced, I decamped with my Armani and my luxe-quality [knock-off] bright red Kelly bag to the Texas [inaugural] ball in Washington a few years later.

In Miami, I had a Donna Karan wrap blouse in black silk with red cherries. It hugged my generous curves and, for whatever reason, I wore it the day the office visited a soul food kitchen in the Overtown neighborhood. Ka-Kow! I made friends there.

Things changed after Miami. I wasn't well, I guess. But it was more complex than that. One night, before a dinner party, I put on an Italian sundress I'd found in town. I liked it. It was a soft, navy jersey with a deep v-neck and a loose, swinging skirt. The bodice was smocked with neon pink, orange, and green threads. I'd been feeling better and working out. I felt pretty in it. My Ex took one look at me in the dress and pressed his finger into the soft lump above my scar with a smile. I took the dress off and don't remember what I put on instead. I've kept the dress in my new closet. I turned to Faconnable and Eileen Fisher and though all of it still hangs in my closet, I rarely, if ever, want to put those clothes on in this new life.

I miss the easy confidence I had in my youth. If I thought of my body in the dressing room, then, it was more about how to hide my shape at work. I could wear most things even though I chose not to. I laugh when I think of how I wouldn't wear a bikini - even when I weighed 103 pounds. That I thought I was "fat" when I hit 120. Now, I keep my back to the mirror and I don't turn around until I'm fully clothed.

Most days, I wear boyfriend jeans, flats, and a t-shirt to my office. I soak myself in Guerlain and big diamonds to compensate, but it's not the same. I'm not the same.  Either I don't want to be, or I recognize that I'm unable to be. I'm not sure which one it is. I'm not sure if that's a good or bad thing.

When I moved here, I got rid of many of my clothes and shut the door on the rest of them.Now, I skim the top off of the laundry basket every morning instead of planning outfits from things on hangers. But lately, I've been thinking that I'm ready for heels and a pencil skirt. I'm not sure how to interpret that. My boyfriend tells me every day that he thinks I'm beautiful, but it's so easy not to believe in it - once you've had someone tell you, every day, that he thinks otherwise.

Art-Based New Year Resolution

I've been mulling over a 365 Challenge a la Cathy Cullis for a few weeks now. I thought for awhile that I might do an abstract watercolor painting-a-day. Or a collage/journal entry.

But then I decided that it was enough to just make the commitment to be in there. Every day. Without imposing any rules or restrictions; just being and doing. Maybe some days I will simply sort, toss, organize. Others? Pick up unfinished projects or start those I've always had planned. Or something totally new.

I went in today for a couple of hours. Cutting a path toward the back where my table sits.

Lots going on in here, as you can sort of see. My camera is in the car and it's too cold to go get it. J would totally go get it for me but he's doing paperwork and watching football and I don't want to bother him with one more thing today since I already made him a) nail a window shut to keep the wind out; b) pour some orange house paint into a smaller jar for me so I could take it up to the studio; c) meet me at Books-A-Million for coffee; and d) put up my IKEA lamp and then "go get a cat" so I could see how the kitty would react to the new light. (He did go get the kitty; she does like the light.) He went to the store and cooked dinner, did the dishes, and then moved my car to a better parking spot  - but that was on his own initiative so I am not counting that stuff on my list of demands. Still, I'm not really in a position to ask him to get get anything else right now.

But back to the 365 project. Still haven't recovered from the move, in studio terms. Lighting is a problem all over the house - our wiring is from the 1930s and it was never brought up to the third level, i.e. the ceiling of this room.Which doesn't explain the bare light bulb situation, but I actually prefer the bare bulb to the shade the came with this [inherited] lamp. So.

There is crap everywhere. I have pieces of paper I've saved for collage for ten years. TEN YEARS. This 365 thing means that if I don't use it by the end of the year for something; anything...it goes. Unless it is really special - like my handmade cyanotypes. The paper that was packed in a Crate and Barrel mail order package I received nine years ago? May not be a keeper.

But no matter - I will eventually get it sorted. Because I'm going to be working in there every day this year. I putzed around in there today. Cleared off the side table and then made it messy again; painting the sides of a set of collage boards (orange) I've been working on off and on for...oh...three years at least.Painted the inside of an old drawer white - in preparation to make it a shadow box. An idea I've had since 2004. I've had all the stuff since at least 2006. I just have to execute it.

These orange-sided collages are pages from an old book on ocean life, stitched with neon embroidery thread and then waxed with orange crayon; glued to board. Not sure what happens next. Some gold leaf text, I think.

I made J hang up the gold museum frame with the scissors on it (ooh, forgot to include that in my list, above). I made it awhile back; just an old thing I had in my Montana studio. This way, I know which scissors are for art vs. sewing. Museum frame = art scissors. "Ophelia" painting hangs to the left; she is being looked at and thought about. Next layer is probably white over her skin.

I started this painting a couple of summers ago. I promised to sell it to a playwright in LA when it's finished. That was in June. I've done a few things to it but not sure what I want to do next. Wax and hair is tempting. Not even sure if the playwright cares anymore. Whatever - for now I will just leave it in a prominent place so I can meditate these important questions.

Finally, I hoovered.

Better pictures (and grammar!) next time, I promise.

Weekly Kiki

John: "Kiki, you're so precious."

[looks at me...]

"Why does she do so many precious things?"

Remember that episode of The Brady Bunch?

 On our long drive to Ohio, J. and I were chatting away about The Brady Bunch. J. feels Alice generally didn't get the screen time she deserved. 

Then he asked me, "Do you remember that episode - the one where Jan broke her nose?"

Me: "Of course. I remember every Brady Bunch episode." Davy Jones! Tiger's Flea Powder! Greg moving up to the attic!

J: "Yeah, when Jan broke her nose, I was like, 'Don't worry Jan, you're just as pretty as ever!"

Dating at 40 and 47 PLUS Hammie Photo Shoot.

J. travels for work and is away most days of the week. His time at home is determined by whether or not some manufacturing company needs their pollution control system repaired and so...impossible to predict.  In my previous lives, time alone meant time to relax and recover and the time to do the things *I* wanted to do. There was never enough time alone.

Now, y'all know I keep busy with all my work and activities, but I find myself in uncharted territory. I genuinely miss him when he's gone. Things are fine in the big picture, but the need for that missing hug or laugh isn't entirely met by reading a book or stitching on something.

This summer there have been some especially long stretches apart, with time at home limited to a bunch of hurried home repairs or trips to buy more house paint. The day after he put in a new kitchen sink, J. watched nature shows all day and said, "I just need a day, you know?"

And I understood what he meant. We needed to have some fun. The last six months have been about hemorraging cash, I've been trying to stick around the house, work, and basically...do nothing. No meals out with friends in DC, no travel, no art classes. So, for the first time in a good long while, I rode along with J. to his job in Columbus, Ohio.

It's been fun. We rented a car to make the drive. Some kind of big, American thing with leather seats and XM Radio. It would be a six hour drive, point-to-point. We'd pass through Virginia, West Virginia, Western Maryland, Western Pennsylvania and then Ohio all in one afternoon. As we crossed the state line into West Virginia I told J. that it was my first time in that famous state of Deliverance. He looked over and put his hand on my knee, "I'm glad it was with me, baby."

Lots of good time for talking. I asked him a whole bunch of stupid, hypothetical girl questions like, "If we had met in Winchester and were just dating, what kind of dates would you take me on?" (Because we never really "dated," 20 years ago or now) I can't remember what all he said but he told me that on a first date he'd just ask me out for coffee. Cool. I love coffee.

So, we pull over in Cumberland, Maryland at Burger King for restroom break. It was kind of a weird town. Cumberland has seen better days - economically speaking - and the folks who are left behind are well...kind of odd. In a geographically isolated way.

So, we're sitting in our rental car in the Burger King parking lot when this dude walks by. And there is something not right about him in an Of Mice and Men kind of way. He's a little too big; his belly is oddly distended; his arms seem to hang a little too far. And sure enough? When he walks by the car, he lifts up both his monkey arms, hinging up at the elbows and flaps his hands at us. At just that moment, we are backing up the car and we're so gobsmacked by this guy that J. slams the rear end of the car into a light pole.

We check it and drive away but as we drive, we realize it's more than just a scrape. The car is not just scratched, it's f*cked up. It squeals and jerks and wobbles and people seem to be giving us a pretty wide berth, which suggests that all that squalling is also throwing off a few sparks. It isn't safe to drive. Long story short - two hours later, we have loaded all my vegan food, art supplies, work computer, and papers plus all of John's tools, computer, and suitcase into another rental and we're back on the road to Ohio. (Today, we're a little more relaxed knowing that his work has insurance that will handle this. Awesome)

Also awesome. Last night? We kinda went on a date right here in Columbus, Ohio. I worked all day in the hotel room and then when he finished up, we went out together. For fun, like.  In the car on the way to the [vegan-friendly] Starliner Diner, I told him he was being a sport about all this vegan stuff, and I really appreciated it. And this is what he said,

"Baby, you're trying to do something for yourself, and I am glad to be supportive of that. Just like I know if I wanted to do something you would try and support me. I would have gone to that other place and eaten the all vegetable earth food and been glad to do it."

Which may not seem like anything to you, but it was a big deal for me to hear. I don't think I've *ever* had that and I know he genuinely meant it. So I'd appreciate a moment of silence in honor of that.

I enjoyed my grilled veggie cheeseless pizza at the Starliner and J. liked his steak burrito with black beans and rice. Dinner and drinks for two: $23. Can't beat that. After dinner, he took me to Jack's Aquarium and Pets. I told him, "You know, I'm pretty much a sure thing. You don't have to take me to a pet store." But it was really fun. It was Old School, family-owned, and you could reach in and pet everything. Score!

I liked these sparkly goldfish.

These little crabs were cute.

The albino African frogs seemed restless and unhappy though.Like maybe a fish tank in central Ohio isn't the life they've dreamed of.

We enjoyed picking up the hammies.

Just trying to capture the cute-ness.

And then we walked over to Starbucks and had a coffee. Stopped at Lowe's and held hands in the "Tool World" section while he looked for a part. It was a perfect date.