Apparently I stripped out of my nurses uniform too quickly.
I planned on spending more time on working on a couple of pendants I am in the process of watercolor painting. Between working on those and packing for our move to the ocean – Myrtle Beach or Cape Cod, I figured I’d have the perfect winter break while the girls rediscovered all the toys they’d gotten for Christmas. It would be a smooth, quiet vacation preparing for our haul.
How wrong I was…
Laid out perfectly in a row, my wooden Prismacolor watercolor pencils waited for me, rinsing jar to my right, index cards with vibrant scribbles from the pencils surrounding me, the colors ready to be blended. My pendant, at this point still a black and white rendering of a Russian princess, begging me to add color to her world. The brush I am using is a sable Series 7 Kolinsky, size 3/0…it’s miniscule…there’s about 20 bristles in it, and it’s my FAVORITE brush, I can paint the tiniest details perfectly.
I gently dipped the end of the brush in water and then let the bristles lick the tip of my “Copenhagen blue” pencil, loading up the pigment on the hair. The brush was poised over my little canvas, I was about to start my newest “masterpiece” – and, as usual – a shriek sliced through my idyllic world.
“Eeeewwww….she’s sneezed snot ALL OVER ME!!!” Daughter #3 ran into my studio, looking desperately for towels to wipe off the slimy goo her baby sister managed to get on her. The curly-haired culprit skipped in after her, laughing in delight that she got “boogies” all over the eight year old.
I cleaned up that mess, just in time to have my thirteen year old tell me that her stomach felt “weird”, which was just before she threw up all over the stairs leading down to me.
Daughter #2 – the eleven year old, came down to see what all the commotion was about, got a nose-ful of her older sisters throw-up and let loose herself.
And that was just the beginning to my weekend. Add a broken pipe in my basement so that we couldn’t flush or run water and a bald, watery, red-eyed plumber who fished out really gross stuff out of those pipes and felt the need to keep showing me (making ME retch), and my vision of a relaxing weekend quickly melted.
“You need a little grown-up time,” Randi lectured me as I whined on her shoulder while we Skyped, “you need to let loose and enjoy yourself. Have someone take care of you for a change.”
It was easy for her to say, she was getting ready to go golfing today with a handsome new client of hers, and by the way she was talking non-stop about him, she wants more than a signed contract.
I was FINALLY able to slip into my artist’s smock again yesterday.
The sun beamed onto my workbench, Vivaldi’s Winter from The Four Seasons playing quietly in the background, reminding me of my wild twenties.
Reminding me specifically of a trip to Poland in 1989 when my cousins and I decided, on a whim, to travel through all the big cities in Poland – for two weeks before Christmas and returning to Bircza, on Christmas Eve. Just in time to surprise our family at midnight Mass in the beautiful church in the middle of the village.
We traveled with only a large purseful of our clothes and necessities each, and absolutely NO plans or reservations. We just jumped on the train and let curiosity be our guide.
One of the little dresses I brought with me in my bag was a long-sleeved, purplish/bluish dress with tiny flowers all over it, way above the knee and several layers of ruffles. When I spun around in it dancing, it flared out. It was fun and flirty and I loved it! I wore it to the hottest clubs in Krakow, Wroclaw and Warsaw, where we danced away until early early morning.
At one of our last nights in Warsaw, at a certain little club, we danced the night away – enjoying the endless bubbly Russian champagne and innocence of our youth. As we danced the last dance before closing, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirrored wall across the dance floor. Flushed face, smiling from ear to ear – my long, brown curls messy, bopping all over my head in time to the music. As I spun around, my pretty flowered skirt flared out.
It was one of those moments where you just feel incredibly secure knowing you are at the right place at the right time doing the right thing. I was young and enjoying life. (OK, I admit, I still am.)
And it was also at that moment that I realized, exactly how high the skirt flared out. And, it also explained why I had not lacked for a dance partner all evening.
I picked up my paintbrush once again, and loaded up the silky hair with the “Copenhagen blue” paint. I am going to paint the Russian princess’ dress to resemble that dress of mine, because I want her to be exactly where she should be, at the right time, doing the right thing.
Just like me.
PS…I would like to take a moment to give an ENORMOUS thank you to bumpyroadtobubba.com for awarding me the HUG AWARD, as well as, The ONE LOVELY BLOG AWARD – THANK YOU!!!!