Me and My Dirty Dirty Picture

(This painting is similar to the photo, but with a drape over the backside)

Walmart. It's fast and easy. I can upload photos and swing by to pick them up in an hour. Quick and painless.

So when I stopped by the photo counter, I was surprised when I told the lady my name and she gave me this strange startled look, like she just burped and swallowed. She quickly turned in her nylon pants, leaving a swooshing sound as she scurried away to another co-worker in the corner. She whispered something in his ear and they both turned and silently stared in my direction.

Their eyes accusing......

Then I remembered.

"Shoot." I said as I nervously smiled at the employees huddled in the back.

They had discovered the picture.

"Play it cool", I told myself as I saw one of them pick up the phone and loudly announce that they needed the Manager in the photo area.

The Manager and the employees discussed for a moment, when he headed my way immediately starting to tilt his head and cross his arms, ready to give me a good verbal lashing.

I pictured myself leaning onto the counter with a cigarette dangling from the corner of my mouth as I casually ask "What seems to be the problem", just like a dangerous Maverick, not to be toyed with in a cavalier manner.

But I can already feel my face creeping into a fiery red.

"Mama. We don't print "those" type of pictures. We are a family store." He states darning me to challenge his authority.

I quickly come to my own defense, eagerly stating that the picture was a nude, but it was only the backside of a woman, with a drape across her backside. This was a family-friendly modest nude.

And Gosh Darn it was for the sake of art!"

He lets out a burst of air, breathing a slight onion aroma over the top of my head, as he pretends to ponder the situation. He rapidly turns and marches away, as I imagine his heels clicking, he meets back with the rest of the employees for a pow-wow.

The formed pack are examining the photo, while making animated gestures.

The verdict: "Mama, (the Mama word again) we have determined that this is an unsuitable print because the drape does not fully cover the line of the woman's bottom. I'm sorry but I cannot allow you to have this photo."

Summary: In other words....too much ass crack is showing.

I smile, knowing this was a no-win ordeal, and promising myself that I will install the printer as soon as I returned home.

I'll be damned if anyone is going to keep me from painting this picture, I cursed to myself. They allowed the scene in Titanic, so a painting should fly, as I pictured the Manager watching the movie and singing along. I just knew he loved it, Celine Dion and all.

My face was now a burning bright red and I felt like I had just tried to shoplift porn from the local video store and had been caught. The Manager said my pictures of barns and horses were okay and that I was free to go.

But never bring back my dirty, dirty pictures!

The Christmas Review

I probably should not write this because I'm ornery as Hell, but it's been over a week since I have posted a blog, and my orneriness doesn't seem to be going away.....its lingering. And anything that lingers can't be good.

My biggest complaint at the moment is trying to find a job that will cover my bills since I was laid off two days before Christmas. Unemployment doesn't cut it. I know I will find something, but it's looking pretty sparse. Dammit.

Insert numerous "Bitch and Moans" here.

Overall Christmas was fabulous. And I do mean fabulous, I don't use that word for just anything. (Okay, yeah I do) It was the first Christmas that I didn't have to worry about a spouse breathing down my neck and whispering, "When are we leaving", and me replying, "We just got here!"

I was able to spend quality time with my family, doing the usual large extended party that involves all the relatives talking, but not really ever to each other? We had the usual spread of food-a few delightful Mormon delectables. Baked ham, funeral potatoes, chips, jello with whip cream, and "all out mayo" macaroni salad.

Then my immediate family had snacks and put a puzzle together on Christmas Eve. I would like to think that I helped put the puzzle together, but the overwhelming thought process gave me a headache and I seemed to be more interested in continuously eating.......

In the morning we went over to my sister Meg's and had omelets and watched my niece open all of her gifts. She's at the entertaining age of two, where all the gifts are just plain snazzy. A giant dollhouse mansion, a kitchen set-complete with a fridge and microwave, and last but not least, a Sparkle Fashion Barbie.

I've never had so much fun!

My niece started to have a melt down when she saw me coveting her toys. She snarled her teeth, shaking her tiny fists in my direction, her head violently shaking, as she screamed, "No Emily! Mine!" I quickly got the point and laid down the Sparkle Barbie.

Maybe next year I will get a Fashion Barbie (pink Corvette included). We'll see if I can be good.....

The Impending Road Trip

Before every date I spend at least an hour primping.

Showering, shaving, blowing my hair out straight, makeup, and of course the perfect outfit. Then I'm ready to go!

I walk out the door and put on a show of perfection ( As I imagine). I smile and laugh at all his jokes, looking fabulous. I can only put on this charade for about two or so hours, more if required.

Then I go home, put the hair in a scrunchie, throw on my reindeer Christmas sweats, and pull out the ice cream in full force-the salad at dinner just didn't cut it.

My charade has proven effective because I've been dating a very nice gentleman for about a month now.

So far so good.

He's quiet (I'm loud) and takes me out to dinner (I like food). He's already met my friends and heard all about my crazy family. CRAZY. He thinks I'm beautiful.

He steady and secure, which entails owning a house and having a job. A rare combo.

So "Dan" asked me to go on a mini break to Yosemite Park this next week. My mind starts to race. A ten hour drive to California. How will I maintain my illusion of perfection. I'm sure I will fall asleep with a half eaten hamburger in my lap and my head will fall back and let out a few loud snorts as I sleep.

He will see everything.

All my quirky habits and feisty temper.

This road trip will be the true test. I had to initially clear that there would be no camping of any kind and assured no animal will eat me on this adventure.

Who knows he may leave my ass on Highway Whatever. Is it bad I don't know how to get to California?

I do know the general direction......

Time to stop panicking and start packing......yes.....a week in advance!

Another Finished Painting

Hello Everyone! I thought I would share with you another finished painting. This one seemed to just paint itself. I used a rag to wipe away the color in the grass, so you can see the canvas through the paint. I like the contrast of orange and blue. December has been very busy with life and work. I'm excited for all the holiday parties and spending time with friends and family.

Single Woman Needs a Good Home

The ad would read something like this:

Single Woman Needs a Good Home
Special needs: expensive dental work
Needs affection and attention
Long walks in the park

I was at the dentist yesterday and by the end of my visit I wanted to beg any man to take care of me.

I wanted an easy way out.

No more sweating and quickly calculating my checking account to cover the costs.

Sometimes its too damn hard and expensive to be a single gal.

I feel that I now am starting to understand why women have to become "Gold Diggers". They have bills to pay, car repairs, health care, and any other crisis that might blow their way.

I nearly hissed at my dentist as he explained the costs for a cleaning, exam, xrays, and to replace an old filling. Without dental insurance: A cool four hundred dollars.

Sure! I said, as I dug through my pocket and produced a ball of lint. Then I asked if it was possible to buy a do-it-yourself dental book at Barnes and Noble to save on costs.

He smiled and a shallow laugh escaped from his throat.

I tried to calm my quickly beating heart by repeating to myself, "At least I will have my teeth when I am 75".

But it didn't suffice. My panic resumed.

So when short on cash the best way to fight fire is with fire.

I went shopping!

The five dollar shirt made my eyes look extra blue.

A five dollar shirt to forget about a four hundred dollar dental bill.

When all else fails.

Rationalize.

Graditude

Typing at the computer, the snow frantically starts to blow outside the window. It was the perfect time to stay warm inside and finish my list of "to do's". I intensely stared at the important e-mail I was constructing. The wording had to be just write so it wasn't taken as too harsh or too soft....it had to be just right.

As I concentrated my nephew bust into the room and went to jump on the bed, missing it by two inches and slamming his forehead into the corner of the rocking chair. Howls and screams soon followed. I jumped out of my seat and let out a sigh of relief as I discovered lack of any blood. Just a nice solid bruise. Ouch.

Then I sat down again and started to find where I left off, when my other nephew stood by the window laughing. I looked at what he was holding in his tiny hand and slowly realized he was holding the garage remote. My father was screaming outside in the blizzard for someone to snatch it from my nephew. I had to laugh because every time my father approached the garage door to shelter heavy potted plants inside, my nephew would quickly push the close button.

It only took my father fifteen minutes or so to figure it out and then the jig was up. But my nephew sure enjoyed the torment.

Finding that I could not work with all the distractions, I stopped working. Why was I trying to work? My family was in town and it was a rare chance to spend time with my nephews. How quickly they are growing and changing. Soon they will no longer be interested in spending time with "Auntie Em" and the rest of the family as they reach the age of preteen angst.

I may not have a family of my own one day and so I realize this may be my closest chance to experiencing children.

I look at my siblings' families, and I admit that I am envious. They may scoff at my envy as my sister once again cleans poop off the rug, because her son doesn't seem to enjoy using a toilet.

The rug is more convenient.

They seem happy, secure, and they have each other. One does not realize what a rarity it is to have a "normal" loving family.

I'm grateful for my friends and family.

Relationships and memories are the only things we take with us when we die. It's the most important thing. Be kind to the poeple that care about you. Remember this holiday season to be in the moment and enjoy any precious time with family and friends.

Tomorrow it may all be gone and changed, but we have now. Embrace it.

All You Can Eat Sushi

“Anyone who accepts a date with a gynecologist gets what they are asking for.” My sister teased just before I took off for my date.

So far I was interested. He was well dressed, offered to pick me up, took me to a nice restaurant -he was an intelligent doctor.

We went to sit down for sushi and he started to argue with the hostess about our table. At first I thought it could be charming, that he wanted the best seat for our date, but after relentlessly grilling the hostess and then loudly complaining to the surrounding tables, I started to feel like it was already time to go.

We ordered a few rolls and started to talk about our schooling. He filled me in on his education and the different clients he sees everyday. Telling me that the worst thing about being a doctor- is hair and bad...well...and I will spare you the details. All while I was ironically eating my “sushi”.

He asked about my background and I told him about my family and education and mentioned that I was divorced. He stopped me there and firmly stated.

“Let’s not talk about past relationships.”

I was getting irritated. I don’t like when a person tells me what I can and cannot discuss. I was polite and kept quite. Continued eating sushi….

Basically: I can narrow the date down to a few sentences.

“If you are good I will give you a free pelvic exam, with the breast exam included.”

“Don’t worry. When you get closer to 38 just come in and I can freeze your eggs.”

And the last but not the least favorite.

“My wife lives in Providence, and I don’t get out much, so I thought we could have some fun. “

I’m still trying to figure out how to end a bad date.

If I had the courage, pick up a glass of water and dump it over his head. But I’m still polite and don’t want to hurt any feelings. So, do you just sit and wait it out only to have it get worse when they try to put the moves on you? Or do I need to be more proactive and be really selective with who I say yes to for a date?

Why is it that when you accept a date a man automatically assumes he’s all set. She said yes, so she must like me, and wants to sleep with me. I thought dating was to see if you liked each other? Not an automatic in.

Oh well, another day another date.

Another Painting I'm Working On....

Sometimes in life it's hard to find time to do everything you want to do, luckily I have been finding time to paint more. I took this picture of a little girl during my nephews birthday party. Her expression is priceless because she refused to smile for the camera but stood very still and shriveled up her nose and pouted. She did not want her picture taken because she had spilled food down the front of her shirt.

This painting with the brown is called the "under painting" and it provides me a map of where to put the color, so all my drawing is done, I just have to think about the color and that's it! I usually like to draw it all in and step away from it for awhile, just so I can look at the piece with fresh eyes and see if the proportions are correct. As you can see in this picture the legs are too small, so they need to be reworked.

I will post a picture when it's finished.....

You Can Do It! A Sneak Peak....

Here's a sneak peek at one of the prototypes or construction swimsuits. It's been slow going and many changes have been made to get it to this point. The suits are so close to being ready for production. Some days it's hard not to get impatient and frustrated.

I'd like to think that I am a tough person. That I have all these redeeming qualities, but unfortunately I am human. I need to remember that and I need to remember that other people are human as well. Trying to manufacture my swimwear designs is proving to be challenging, not necessarily with the process, but in dealing with each unique individual.

Assumptions are bad, and I've come into this project with many. I assumed that because you have paid someone they would finish the job with perfect craftsmanship and on time. I'm learning that's not the case and my job isn't to just fix problems but to motivate and inspire. I have to look at each individual and see how we can best work together and then adapt into more of that person to help them do their job, all the while maintaining my boundaries and needs.

It's complicated and a mean bag of tricky!

I'm learning to set expectations and deadlines, but then find ways to help them meet these expectations, either by playing what I like to call "Good cop, bad cop" which encourages, then has to be assertive, and then encouraging again.

I am the cheerleader. Outfit, flips, and all.

The guy at Starbucks took pity on me and my frustration, handing me a free drink while telling me "Have faith in the God in people. "

Not sure what that meant, but maybe I need to find a different way to help the people helping me get where we need to go.

Finish the suits! You can do it! I shout, cheering them on.....it's almost there...

Then onto sizing and production we go! Starting with new challenges, which I hope to enter with a positive, open mind of possiblity and hope.

Freddy Krueger Pays a Visit

Waiting in line, we could see our breath as we shivered in our skimpy costumes. (I guess my idea of a skimpy costume is not having a jacket.) Cresta, was a sexy cop in fishnet tights, Sean was little Red Riding Hood, and I was Satan. Or the devil, with a red tail pinned to my jeans and ears pinned in my red hair. My friends said I was the perfect devil, I'm not sure if that was a compliment or not?

We finally made it inside to see an array of dancing characters. The music pounded and lights flashed as we danced. It was hard to tell if you actually liked the guy you were dancing with because they were disguised so well. Others, no so well, in tight shorts and shirts off, supposedly trying to be a partially naked Rambo? You had to give them credit for being confident enough not to wear enough, if almost anything. Halloween is the only time you can validate going out of the house in hardly next to nothing. The people on the dance floor were taking full advantage of the opportunity.

I was dancing (badly) with my friends when Freddy Krueger came up from behind, I turned and came face to face with a large bloody mask and sweaty body. With a muffled voice he barked out that he wanted my number. It's hard to want to give someone your digits when they are dressed as a movie serial killer....not so much.

I did give my number to a cute New Yorker, dressed nicely in a button up shirt, a rarity in Utah, and glasses. He looked Jewish, but to my disappointment he wasn't, oh well. But then he started to crack terrible jokes. Apparently he is a gynecologist. Could I date a gynecologist with bad doctor jokes? I will have to ponder that one later.....

The night ended as we watched people getting arrested for public intoxication. Their drunken bodies getting tossed in the back of police cars like rag dolls.

Then I saw him....."Freddy" was being tossed in the back of a car, masked removed.

I sighed in relief, shivering in the cold and saying to myself, "Thank God I didn't give him my number."

A Creative Escape for a Rainy Day

Turning off my cellphone, neglecting e-mails, ignoring unopened mail, I turn on the stereo and lights, while grabbing ingredients from the cupboard.

Butter, more butter, brown sugar, flour. And chocolate.

All ingredients mixed to make chocolate chip cookies. Need I say more?

It's raining outside and what better way to spend the day then to huddle inside with a warm steaming oven and the smell of melting chocolate wafting in the air, a glass of wine (or wine cooler, a cheaper version, but still effective) and French music softly cooing in the background.

Baking is a form of creativity and helps to get me in the mood to paint. It frees the mind of all distractions and worries.

Putting you in the moment. All senses connected.

Concentrating on one ingredient at a time. Mixing, folding, spreading melted butter onto each baking sheet.

Feeling spontaneous, I add a touch of almond extract and honey, letting the liquid drip onto the side of the dish, running into the thick batch of dough below....let's see what happens...how it sweetens the cookies.

I save what I like to call my "secret cookie technique" for very last, which ensures each bite has oozing amounts of dark chocolate melted into milk chocolate.

A silky combination.

The plan is to pile a plate of warm cookies and go into my studio, and start mixing colors on my palette.

Swirling white and crimson red to make a vibrant skin colored pink.

My brush will lightly flutter from piece to piece, laying down a layer of paint. One canvas is of a little girl in a multi-colored skirt with a pouting smirk on her face, while a new piece is of two girls on a bright purple scooter.


Color. I could swim in it.

It's days like this, that I can escape all the distractions of my life and lose myself in the quiet creative corner of my mind.

And with each bite of cookie any tension just.......melts away.

The Tedious Things

It happens just when you are about to fall asleep, you hear a slight buzz in one ear. I'm thinking....

"It's Fall there aren't any mosquitoes." But then I hear it again.

I jump up this time, madly searching for the culprit.

"There it is!" I shout out loud to myself, as I see it's slight body tapping against the corner of the room.

I stretch to reach it. "Damn I'm not tall enough," I whisper, still stretching my short arms in the air.

The chase ensues for about an hour.

Sneaky little bugger.

But at last I capture it's body in an old t-shirt. Problem solved.

After finally falling asleep I wake up to the sunlight coming through my window. I'm in a pleasant mood and I hum to myself as I take a hot shower.

As I put my favorite sexy bra on I notice that one boob is hanging lower than the other. I realize the boob is not doing so well because I lost an under wire in the right cup. I'm stubborn and unbelievably cheap, so I refuse to toss it out. I come to terms with having a lower right boob. No one will notice. Or I guess just the guy at Blockbuster, who is always taking numerous darting boob glances. He will notice since he's done numerous inspections.

"Oh well. Life goes on." I say to myself again.

Still in a slightly fabulous mood, I apply my new concealer only to realize that "fair" is not fair enough. So I decide to take on the task of going back to Wal-Mart, one of my favorite places, and get a different color. This time I will get translucent. Apparently I have no skin pigmentation.

As I go to get in my car, I glance in horror as my eyes freeze upon the front of my car.

I curse and scream. "Where the Hell is the front of my car! "

I had completely forgotten that a large piece of Sh*@ took out the front bumper as I was driving home last night.

To make myself feel better I vowed to find the piece of sh&*, Google how to trace finger prints, take the prints to the police, who will casually give me the person's address, then track down this person that kindly left this piece of sh#@ in the road!

This absurd lie makes me feel temporarily better.

It's days like this where I wished I smoked or had some bad habit to alleviate my growing irritation. But then I come home, put on my comfy gym shorts, open a bag of any type of chocolate containing goodie, and pop in a comedy to watch.

Then all seems right as rain.

That is until I attempt to sleep again and I hear that slight buzz in my ear.

The Wild West

I was feeling a little stir crazy this past weekend, so I figured, why not drive to Colorado? I have been talking with a gentleman that lives there for the past six months. We always toyed with the idea of finally meeting each other. I was sick of waiting and I was curious to actually meet. His pictures on facebook displayed a solid six pack which helped in my decision making process. So I put on a diaper and drove straight through the seven hour drive. (a discreet joke for those of you that know the astronaut story).


Part of living at home, is that everyone knows where you are at any given moment. So I knew when I announced that I was taking off for Colorado I would create a shit storm of questions. I was in mid discussion with my mother, when my grandmother came over, and then my sister, and then my brother and his wife. All starring at me wanting to know why I was driving to Colorado.

How do I look my family in the eye and tell them, I'm driving all that way to check out this new food place that serves chicken wings?


He looked exactly how I pictured him; tousled hair, sly smile, blue jeans, and a tight white t-shirt. Cowboy confidence.


My family, especially my mother, were concerned about me meeting some unknown cowboy in the middle of Colorado. I was relentlessly grilled on all his vitals. They were worried that my body would later be found in the woods, murdered.

They always have a way of sucking the romance out.


He made me feel comfortable in his home. It was clean, shiny and new. Not a scary hoarder and bodies in the closet as my family had warned. He actually cooked me dinner and gave me a tour of his.....tiny town..... with it's cute old fashioned buildings. I had a good time....but.....

He had a few yellow flags.

Here's the variations of flag warnings-or the levels.

Red Card: Do not continue contact. Psycho, smokes, doesn't want children.

Red Flag-serious deal breaker, which takes some serious consideration to continue the relationship (nasty temper, mean to people, bad hygiene, no job, etc.)

Yellow Flag-A concern, a small annoyance to take note to form the whole picture ( drives fast, curses too much, doesn't floss, etc.)

We will see with time if this cowboy's yellow flags turn into red flags. It's his turn to take the seven hour drive.

The Shirt Pocket

When does slightly strange become too strange? I usually shrug must people off when they come into the gallery and may seem to have a few quirks, but what happens when they don't just pop into browse but have now made it a regular visit?

A gentleman has started to make the gallery his home. He seems to have appeared for no reason, like he blew in with the wind. Now he comes in three times a day and never seems to have the desire to leave. Or any sort of a home or schedule.

Besides talking your ear off, he loves to show people a newspaper clipping in his shirt pocket.

He slides it out and whispers, "I keep it close to my heart."

Ssstrange!

This is not just any clipping, but a picture of a very young violinist for the Utah Symphony. I wonder if she has any idea that he carries it around? Maybe it's best to remain in the dark?

I can understand liking a celebrity and starting a blog, but hey, even I don't carry Stanley's picture in my pocket. If I start, I pray my family has an intervention.

I just hope one day he doesn't slide out the clipping and I glimpse that the girl has been replaced by my face.

The Sexcapades!

It's Autumn in New York City and I started to get the sense that it was also mating season.

I began to be enlightened as I was waiting on the sidewalk to meet a friend for lunch, an impeccably dressed businessman approached, grinning. He strolled passed and then paused and turned around as if he had something important to share with me.

"Hi!" He confidently stated, " You are my dream girl. I want to totally bend you over. If you would like to F*&$ please give me a call," and handed me his card. And with that he quickly turned and briskly walked away.

Speechless, I starred after him holding his card. Feeling offended, confused, and mortified. Was I wearing something provocative? No. I had a plaid shirt and jeans on. Strange. I also wondered if his approach ever worked?!

I chalked up the experience to a random event and decided to just meet my friend over at his apartment. As I was navigating my way, a few construction workers started to scream obscene things at me. Again, I was completely puzzled as to what would provoke such a reaction. I hadn't put on my pheromone perfume today? Hmmm?

My friend "Frank" was waiting outside and greeted me with a friendly smile. We hugged and patted backs. It had been awhile since we had seen each other and we had only met once. I used to date his best friend and we had met when his friend flew me to New York for a weekend. I sent "Frank" a text to let him know I would be in town and he offered to show me around and be my guide. Not knowing the city, I eagerly accepted.

We headed towards Broadway as he explained the lay out of Manhattan. He pointed to all the highlights as we tried to make our way through the hordes of people. It was fashion week, so many of them were towering women in spiked heels, with eccentric makeup, which all reminded me of what a modern day Geisha would look like.

We eventually made our way to Bryant Park, which is in the heart of the city. Trees lined the sidewalks and lush vegetation spilled over planters, as couples lounged in chairs reading newspapers and sipping drinks. We joined the midst of bodies, with our ice cold beers.

The conversation never seemed to wane as he had so much to tell me about living in the city, he also told me more about my past boyfriend and the long divorce he was still facing. We chatted until the sunlight started to fade and I remembered I was meeting another friend of a friend for dinner.

As he walked me back to my street, he suddenly grabbed me and pulled me into a dark secluded bar and started to kiss my neck. I laughed in surprise and at his spontaneity, but pulled away because he was still the friend of my last boyfriend. He assured me that no one would get hurt and that if we kept it all between us-his friend, and "Franks" wife would never find out.

What? His wife? "Frank" was married?

Nervously I laughed, trying to make light of the situation, while my mind flashed back to the memory of dating his friend, who told me he was divorced, but was actually still married as well. Not again.

"I need to head back to my apartment and meet some friends for dinner." I said, trying to make him believe my excuse to escape.

He casually threw out an idea "Why don't we head back to my apartment and you could give me a blow job." He smoothly stated.

"No." I firmly spouted. Quickly losing my sense of humor.

He again insisted and started to throw some sort of tantrum with his hands.

I waved goodbye and pratically ran away. He acted like his wife and sex were as meaningless and casual as getting a cup of coffee.

New York seems to be a place where every one's sexual lifestyle is open for public or private viewing. What's usually kept behind closed doors and in the bedroom seems to be out in the open morning, noon, and night in this city. The City that never sleeps.

Are you Serious!?

"NEW YORK - SEPTEMBER 15: Actor Stanley Tucci is seen around Lincoln Center during Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week on September 15, 2010 in New York City."

Where was I??? I was just four blocks away in my apartment! I thought about going to check out the fashion scene and just hang around outside, but I knew it would be a mad house, so I opted for a burrito and a movie. Great! Just great! My one chance to spot Stanley and I missed it. Lol! And if I did see him, what would I do? I guess just stare like a crazy stalker person?

A Lazy Afternoon

I'm about to head out the door again to stroll Central Park one last time before I head back to Utah. New York is teaming with people all going about their daily lives. It's amazing in a city full of millions one can still feel so alone. I'm trying to block out that this time last year my husband ended our marriage. I've moved on and keep trying to put time and miles between my old life and me, but sometimes the grief comes creeping back. I mourn the loss of the hope of unconditional love and trust. That if I do find someone I care about in the future that they too won't one day wake up and find me "human".

I watch a couple lay in the shade. The man is leaning over and gently pushing the woman's hair behind her ear. An intimate moment between the two and they seem so in love. I ponder if it's a new relationship and if it will quickly pass with the season.

Breathe. Savor the moment. I focus my thoughts, taking in the beautiful surroundings. I'm excited to meet my new friend for a picnic. I sit and wait on a park bench and I know he'll come around the corner with his dimpled smile and say hi with his slight Queens accent.

Today may have been the end of my marriage last year, but the present is a gift, a fresh start in a new direction. It just doesn't get any better than laying in the park on an autumn day. And maybe my new friend will push my hair behind my ear and for the moment we can pretend we are that couple in love.

I Might Have Been Eaten Alive?

The sun is coming up and reflecting off the brick walls of my New York apartment. I can hear the swarms of pigeons perched outside my window, as my head is starting to clear. Everything is coming into focus-slowly.

I'm trying to remember last night. Swearing to my self once again that I will never drink again, embarrassed to admit that I was overcome with just two drinks.

My girl friend and I went out, on a Monday night, for a few cocktails and socializing. We met some fascinating people.

Now I'm awake and greeted by a very good looking Jamaican in my shorts. Oh boy......I'll let you know when I figure it out....later.

I'm going back to bed.

I'm in New York-Need I Say More?!

Excited to be back in New York and exploring the city on my own. As many of you know, last time I came with a wonderful gentleman friend, who turned out to be married. One same very important detail that he forgot to mention.

This morning I think I am going to set out for some food, and not just any old food will do. I'm going to take the train from the Upper West Side (I think I am getting the terms down) and ride to the lower east side or below East Houston. It all sounds good in theory, but then I stop out onto the street and can't tell my right from my left or my east from my west. Shoot! I'm already starving...so the pressure is on!

I went to the neighborhood grocery store last night and was getting my nutritious meal of Frito's and Reese's Pieces when a bunch of guys started making weird throat noises and nudging each other. I worried I had a large bat in my cave or my fly was undone. Then I realized they just liked a redhead. Nice that they showed so much enthusiasm for Clairol #6 in True Red.

I'll keep you posted on my New York adventures this week.....should make for some interesting stories....hopefully not too interesting....for my sake.

A Caribbean Paradise

Being from a "Jack Mormon" family I truly know what it means to travel "Mormon Style". A style that tries to maximize everything while trying to be cheap as Hell.

Cheap as Hell Mormon style has a few rules to follow:

1-Do not eat at any place over ten dollars per person.

2-Try to split any meal with at least two other people.

3-When staying in a hotel try to fit at least 3 to 4 people in one room.

4-If a grocery store and kitchen are available, buy all canned food as cheaply as possible. Preferably something with cream in it. (Mormons love cream; cream of chicken, cream of mushroom-well you get the point)

Keeping all this in mind, all thirteen of us (I probably forgot someone or added an extra person) we traveled to Puerto Rico. Our first excursion was hiking the rain forest and swimming in pools with a tumbling waterfall. My dad always manages to hurt himself in one way or another. This time he jumped around in the pool with genuine glee with all the other children and somehow smashed his chest on a sharp rock. He didn't seem too happy after that, his smile rapidly faded and his chest was a crimson red. It looked painful.

After exiting the rain forest and with a wet swimsuit, one of my favorite things to walk around in, we crammed into a small plane and like a mosquito, buzzed over to Vieques island. As we took off, my sister-in-law started screaming. I'm not sure if it was because of the fear of flying or knowing she would be trapped on the island with my entire family for a week?

Arriving at the rented house I noticed a towering fence and barb wire around it. I wondered why the wire was pointing in rather than out.....was it trying to keep people in?

I still like to fondly refer to the house as the "Sanders Family Compound" where people can get in , but they can't get out. Maybe my sister had tricked us into thinking this was a vacation, but really she had checked us all into a loony bin?

With good behavior, we had outdoor time on the beach. Playing in the surf, finding shells, and snorkeling.

I'm afraid to get to close to any sea life. It can either bite, sting, or possibly eat you. None of which I would think I would enjoy. Seeing a sting-ray was amazing. but did nothing to reassure my nerves. No one could hear my panicked screams through my snorkel. What good is screaming if you can't get a reaction?

When visualizing a Caribbean paradise one pictures clear sapphire water and sandy tropical beaches. Imagationing perfection. But I bet they left out the mosquitoes.

Mosquitoes are the enemy. Dousing my body with spray, and I'm not talking about the wimpy stuff, but the Deet birth-defect causing stuff, the mosquitoes would still swarm, refusing to leave any inch of my virgin skin unmarked. At times I could feel my body growing weak as they sucked the life out of me, I would open my mouth to cry out in desperation, and would suck their tiny bodies into my lungs. I was pissed and I mean pissed. I was determined not to let these bastards get me down. It was war.

Using all my brain power to out think them, I again hosed my body down with spray, camouflaged my skin with pants, a high neck jacket, and sprayed over the top of my armor, never minding that it was sweltering outside. At one point I broke down and cried...they were still everywhere, their nests lodged into each pocket of damp grass. I howled and flapped my arms, as other tourists curiously watched my exorcism freak show.

I managed to come away from the trip with at least sixty-five bites on just my two legs. Megan, my sister said, "You look like Quazimoto, but your face will probably heal normally after a few weeks."

I smiled weakly at her encouraging words, one eye swollen and two fresh bumps forming on my cheek.

Funny on a family vacation how you want to spend time with each other at the start but by the end you can't wait to get away. You decide you need a vacation from a vacation.

Those who know me, know that I have to find the sarcasm in every story, but this was a beautiful trip and irreplaceable time with my family. I feel so grateful to be able to see my niece and nephews play in the ocean. They grow up so fast, while we grow older. It's the moments like these that make life happy and make us forget all the hardships-divorce, mosquitoes, and whatever "stuff" comes our way.

The Strange Pervert in the Corner

Learning to be single and alone can be tough. It takes some readjusting. I thought I was well on my way to mastering "aloneness" by having taken myself out to dinner without pretending to be reading or texting. I could eat alone and just eat.

Then I discovered that being alone in Vegas is a whole different ball game.

Wondering around the casinos I noticed that everyone was either in a couple or a group. It was Junior High all over again. I was the odd woman out.

I would get inquisitive stares. It was like a lone man wondering around a park full of children, people can't help but think he might be a pervert. I felt that being single and alone in Vegas stirred the same reaction. What would someone be doing in Vegas by themselves?

When sitting down for dinner the host always puts me in some dark corner, probably so I would not be embarrassed by my "aloneness". I feel like I should be wearing a hoodie and dark sun glasses, a cigarette dangling from my lips. Like a "Strange Pervert in the Corner."

Strolling through Caesar's Palace I discovered I was the perfect target for people selling stuff along the Colosseum shops. One salesman was so persistent I agreed to try the latest lotion claiming to make my skin look younger.

Smiling, he gently applied the lotion to my arm and nonchalantly mentioned in a foreign accent. "I would like to rub this lotion all over your body."

I smiled and wormed my arm away. Giggling nervously, I said I had a reservation and scurried off. He shouted after me to come back after dinner so we could continue, which I could only imagine what exactly that would entail.

Eating at Sushi Roku I could see from my table the "Lotion Man" trying to reel in other people. I noticed there was no way around him and my only escape would be walking past his booth.

I desperately schemed how I would pass him without grabbing his attention again. I noticed an exit just outside of the restaurant and slightly to the right. If I stuck close to the wall I could slip away undetected.

Finishing the last few bites of sushi and paying the bill, I dashed to my escape. Sticking to the wall as planned, I was just about to the exit, when my foot slipped.

I was falling forward.

"Shit", I loudly exclaimed.

I hit the ground hard.

My body slapping the floor echoed through the mall. Blank faces turned to gaze in my direction. I cursed myself for not seeing the steps.

I had been spotted.

Trying to regain my composure, I nodded to "Lotion Man" and continued out the door. So much for slipping away undetected.

Maybe I'm not as comfortable eating alone as I believed. And maybe not my eating alone had earned me the title of "Strange Pervert in the Corner", but my actions of an awkward escape?

The High Life

Just when I thought no prospective dates were on the horizon, I met a gentleman (We'll call him "Bob") at Market Street Grill in Salt Lake. I was dining with my girlfriends, when I went to the bar to ask for change. He casually complimented me on my red hair and I smiled and gave a polite nod.

He seemed too old for me, so I brushed him off. "Bob" was persistent.

He shot out a barrage of questions. I laughed and decided, why not? Come to find out he was really intelligent and well-spoken. He spoke about the art world fluently and loved to travel-all my similar interests. Refreshing. So I gave him my number and returned to my friends, who probably thought I had deserted them.

Bob called the next day, which happened to be a Saturday and wanted to know if I would join him for drinks at Waldorf Astoria Spa and then a concert at the Canyons in Park City. It was hot outside and the pool/ alcholol was too good to pass up. And I wanted to know more about him-Bob was intriguing.

As I rushed from work to my car, I noticed a red spray on my windshield. I paused in alarm. Was that blood? I cautiously approached my car. It was in the inside! I immediately opened the door to see all the crimson red on the dashboard, the windshield, the stick shift, and a pool of red in the passenger seat.

It wasn't blood, but my cherry Dr. Pepper.

It had exploded in a rage about being left in a hot car. I thought the caffeine pick me up would be nice for later...but not this way. Realizing I was going to be late for my date, I figured I would deal with this fiasco later.

My tires screamed into the parking lot of the Waldorf. Bob had instructed me to just valet park. Engrossed in my latest rap CD, yes rap, I glanced over to reality.

My red reality. Oh no!

These valets are going to think I killed a small animal in my car. The only solution was to act casual-maybe they would not notice, or I could put my McDonalds trash over the puddle.

Yes! That would do! High class all the way.

Bob was waiting in the spa entry and smoothly greeted me.

The spa was clean, quiet, and cool. The director gave us a tour and I admired the live plants growing on the walls mixed with the smooth counter tops and soft white cushioned couches. Perfectly placed on the counters were hard back books of architecture, modern art, and other affluent topics. I thought to myself, I could just stay here for awhile and never leave....my new home.

In the ladies locker room I wondered around sniffing the free bottles of deodorant, shampoo, lotion, and assorted toiletries.

This locker room seemed too nice. I didn't want to take my clothes off.

Just as I was taking my swimsuit out of my grocery store plastic bag-my way of recycling, the spa attendant walked in.

She stared for a moment and gave me this....smile.

She continued her forced smile as she explained there was a fee for using the spa.

I laughed and said, "No worries, I'm with a member. "

She smiled again, this time firmly folding her arms.

She asked, "Under what name are they listed?"

I nervously laughed again and realized I had completely forgotten my dates name. Shoot!

I frantically laughed again, worrying she would pick me up and toss me out, plastic bag and all.

Then I confidently said "Bob Idol". She nodded and quickly left. I thought Good! Go check! I'm on the list! Big stinker.

After a few minutes and successfully putting on my swimsuit, the attendant came back. Same forced smile to report that I was indeed on the list. Ha! I gave my own forced smile. She demostrated how to use the locker and explained how to get to the pool.

I noticed a white robe in the locker and asked, "Do I wear that out to the pool?"

She smiled. Again. "No, that's for people getting treatments. "

I walked through the empty carpeted corridor towards the gleaming afternoon sun coming through the exit.

As the door swung open, to my horror I saw everyone enjoying their afternoon cocktails.

All in white robes.

In all my glory I stood in my suit for everyone to behold, with a knee-jerk reaction to suck in my stomach, and a strong pang of regret about the burrito I had eaten earlier.

I had two choices: scurry quickly by acknowledging my shame, or act like my lack of robe was intentional.

It was go time.

I chose to "rock it". I walked out and right to my smiling date. Who laughed and quickly asked "Where is your robe". Oh I didn't feel I needed one. Damn that spa attendant.

We laughed by the pool drinking raspberry mojitos and talking about all the places he had traveled. he asked me if I wanted to be his "bond girl" and travel with him. Tempting. I could just leave my life and toss all care to the wind. Then what? When he tired of me being his bond girl, what future would I have? Complete dependence-not an option. I had that happened before and was thrown out on my ass. Never again.

As we left the retreat of the spa for dinner on Main Street Bob asked if I wanted to drive because he hated driving at night. I nodded, but then quickly remembered the murder scene in my car. Let's take your car this time. And smiled. The forced smile.

Dinner was a dream. A cool breeze came off the mountain as we ate shrimp skewers on the balcony and talked about his childhood. He asked about mine and somehow the topic came up about my living at home. Bob seemed to have eaten a bad piece of shrimp because he grew quiet and asked for the check. I had become the "Skateboarding" girl.

I swore I heard Bob's tires squeal as he left me standing back at the hotel.

For an instant I felt disgusted with myself. What was my problem? A thirty-one year old back home with her parents.

Then I got angry. No one will ever judge me again. It is my choice. My decision only. I felt a way of guilt when I realized that I had judged the "skateboarding" guy. Karma is a bitch.

I'm happy spending time with my parents again. If you are happy where you are, that's all that matters. A person that really cares for me won't care what I do for a living, where I live, or what I drive....cherry Dr. Pepper and all.

I don't need the high life. Just my life.

The Text Break Up

I received this exact text yesterday.

"I can take a hint. I'm out! Take care."

I was shocked to hear my phone beep and be greeted with this defiant message. Instantly offended I became angry that he would not even bother to call. Then I thought, wait....

Were we EVEN dating?

We met online through E Harmony and met over lunch at Jason's Deli. We had chatted on the phone several times from there and then he Facebook friended me. Soon after we grabbed a beer at a bar. We laughed and talked late into the night. Afterwards he walked me to my car and gave me a peck good night.

Then he called a few days after...and well, maybe that's where I became "The Asshole". I didn't return his phone call. I forgot. I was busy with work, art, starting up my business...yadda, yadda. Blah. Blah. You know the usual excuse drill.

Then I get this text. Is he being over dramatic or am I truly "The Asshole" for not returning his call. One ball dropped and I'm out-or he is.

I've been out of the dating scene for awhile and I was told by a bunch of twenty-somethings at a "Glitter Toe" party (a bunch of women get together and paint their toes) that I was indeed "The Asshole" for not immediately returning his call. In this day and age we have all these time frames to answer face book comments, calls, e-mails, and texts. I can't keep up!

I guess if one missed call means I'm out of this non-relationship, so be it. I just drove myself down to Starbucks for an iced-chai and now everything is right as rain.

Skating into the Couch Condition

Running late, I dashed into the local coffee shop to meet "Jay", who I had picked up earlier in the week at the art supply store. "Jay" was sensual, the typical artist stereotype; romantic, slightly tormented, and brooding. I loudly explained to the Barista, " I need a sandwich without onions in case I get lucky." Laughing at my own joke, she quickly got the jest and snickered.

We intensely searched the menu, settling on turkey and cheese-a safe bet.

Unfortunately I didn't see my date in the corner, overhearing the whole conversation. Ouch...that may have hurt my chances. Smooth moves!

He was slouched in the corner pretending to stew over a classic novel. I must admit there is something alluring about a man reading a novel.

I smiled as he kindly kept looking down, so as to not acknowledge my previous conversation. "Jay" looked up with a wide charming grin. I gracefully sunk into the couch next to him and quickly noticed he was drinking water out of a camping canister. No coffee? No food?

I politely asked, "Did you order?"

He said "Oh, I ate before I came."

We casually discussed work and the weather, non controversial topics, when my meal arrived. I hate having someone watch me scarf my sandwich, a food item that is always too large to daintily fit into your mouth, so I offered to share. He politely hesitated-then quickly snatched up the sandwich. "Jay" was hungry. Good. A starving artist.

I felt very swanky as we soaked in the environment of a live guitarist strumming outside in the garden area, while we intelligently sat in our black clothing discussing culture.

The age difference started to show when I would say, "When I was your age I was working at such and such", "Or this is how I got started." And then I gave unsolicited advice-my personal favorite.

As we chatted I glanced over to see a skateboard on the ground. In disbelief I innocently asked if it was his skateboard. Maybe someone had left it at the table?

"Yeah", was his quick short reply.

I asked how far he "skated" over (not sure on the correct terminology) and "Jay" said over ten miles or so. I was shocked. But "Jay" said only because he didn't have a car. And that it was hard to sleep on his parents couch while also not having a car too.

Did I hear all this correctly? What?! My mind was spinning. Parents couch? That basically throws any intimacy options out the window. I guess we could always use the classic excuse of "Oh we are just cuddling and watching a movie". Not sure if I could regress back into my high school dating scenarios. I could not see a positive alternative to the couch....back seat of a car....no. Nooo!

While picturing the couch, my mind darted back to the skateboard. We could share it buddy style, frantically kicking our legs as fast as they would go in our acid-washed jeans and matching jacket. Total eighties flashback, but "Jay" was just a baby then, so he would not have shared such a fond memory.

We decided to check out the art walk downtown, so we jumped into my car, but first piled his book bag and skateboard into the backseat.

"Do you mind if I smoke?", he asked after already rolling and lighting a cigarette.

So he smoked. Interesting. I fought the urge to spray Lysol into the air and scream out yet another lecture on the hazards of smoking, especially a non-filtered cigarette.

Down town we strolled into galleries and greeted fellow artists. He saw a friend and they ran up to each other, hugging and rubbing. It was very intense...maybe they hadn't seen each other in awhile? I asked if that was an old friend?

"Jay" replied, "Oh we used to date, but the whole gay thing didn't work for me."

Fascinating. I was hip. I told him I had once danced with a girl, excluding she was my best friend. He nodded his head with a slightly puzzled look.

It was getting late so I said I needed to get home, not realizing he was at least thirty miles from his parents house.

It dawned on me and I stated, "Oh yeah, you don't have a car. I need to drive you home." "Jay" smiled at my clever recognition.

We quietly drove to his parents. Getting out of the car he hugged my head with a light squeeze, smashing my cheeks together, which strangley reminded me of my mother.

We retrieved his skateboard and book bag from the backseat.

After we said our goodbyes I asked myself, maybe an eight year difference is too big? I think so. I'm ready for a family and he's still finding himself.

Right then I came to terms. There would never be any skating off into the sunset.

Where Did I Go?!

My Goodness! I haven't posted in a few days. There goes my damn promise to myself....to post everyday. Shoot! But I do have a date tonight! Yay! So far with him, in all our initial non-date interactions, we just stare at each other. Hmmm.....have to figure out what to talk about? I will have to dig up all of my old jokes, which I am sure will be very clever and impressive-or just scare the Hell out of him.

So many to posts to post! Is it bad that he is about eight years younger than me? When does it start to get pervy? I answer: Probably when I start asking that question! Yikes!

Well my lovely dears, I need to start prepping myself for the date. Hair, makeup, deodorant, and all the other good stuff. Have a fun Friday night!

Make it a Blockbuster Night

Walking through Blockbuster looking for the latest entertaining movie I stumbled across a rare sighting. Luckily I had needed a mental break from myself, so I just so happened to be in the area.

I was walking the aisle and noticed a handsome gentleman (extra spicey hot) looking in the Action section. Action-yes! (In so many ways) Using my laser vision, I quickly assessed no wedding ring. Check. Hmmm...a possibility.

It's the reason I still believe in having an actual movie store and not a Redbox. The movie store is the perfect place to find other singles needing something to do on a Friday night.

Now was my time to shine! The planned approach: slowly move towards his section and come up with some charming movie question. Yes! That would work!

Making my way over....slowly....

slowly...slowly.

Dammit! Too slow! Oh no! He's moving to the front. He's at the register.

I missed my chance.

I walked to the attendant and asked her if he was indeed what I thought he was.

She nodded. "Yes. He is the only single man in North Ogden."

We stared at each other in silent understanding.

The other attendant walked over and said. "I already have him pegged, along with every other woman in North Ogden."

-Competition!

Cold Feet or Wet Feet?

As I was walking through the parking lot, hurrying to work, my foot stepped off the sidewalk onto the lawn. Immediately my foot sunk into the ground. Dammit! Broken sprinkler head, as my leather shoe discovered. I tried desperately to shake off the excess water to no avail. The deed had been done. It was soaked through. Oh well, must continue walking and hopefully get to work early enough for coffee-my main priority.

So basically all day one foot was dry and the other one stayed wet. As I walked around talking to clients the one foot could be heard swooshing and swishing around the room. I overheard one man saying, "What is that noise?", as my wet foot echoed throughout the gallery. I quickly stopped walking, hoping he would not noticed that it was coming from the direction of my feet and then glance down and see that I had one dark shoe. How to explain?

Life can be tough and with one wet foot, it can be even tougher.

Words of Affirmation

I have made a decision. To wake up every morning and think positive thoughts and visualize my future. So, I had the rather brilliant idea(stolen from somewhere I'm sure)of putting up words of affirmation on my wall.

Coloring, cutting, and uniquely designing each word, so that all would be special and positive. As I gently taped up the last artistically crafted word on the wall, "breath", my mother came in and informed me that I had misspelled "breath" and that I needed an "e" at the end. I was quickly deflated, but not defeated. I was not going to let an "e" hold me back! I walked over to my paper and scribbled an "e" out and slapped it on the wall. There! Done at last! My life complete and off to a positive start.

Somewhere in the middle of the night all my tape came loose and my words of affirmation fell on top of me. Not a good sign. I will use push pins the next time around.

Happy Fourth of July

Wanted to wish everyone a very Happy Fourth of July. Hopefully you are enjoying a nice barbecue with family and friends. You just can't beat this weather. I'm working at the gallery today and then running over to Salt Lake for a Plein Air competition. Keeping my fingers crossed that I win the $500 bucks. That would be good. No, actually, excellent! And if I'm lucky, I will find something fun to do afterwards....the night is full of possiblities.

A Decision

Many of us have been through some tough times, whether it be a death of a loved one, divorce, the loss of a job. We try to heal and move on....have hope. We go through the grieving process, and give it time. But what if it doesn't get any better?

You have probably heard the cliche "With time everything heals" or "Time reveals all". I do believe these sayings, but I am now finding that maybe we have to make a conscience decision to stop grieving. Enough is enough. Start a new thought pattern and block out the negative memories and past. By doing this are we just in denial and postponing the grief or does it let us move on?

Today I have made a decision to not be sad. To be happy and go out and do the things I love. If my memories of my marriage and all the hurtful things try to creep in, I will think of something else, forming a new thought pattern. If the feeling persists, then I will write my thoughts down and leave my worries and pain on the page. That's the plan for now anyhow.

My mind has been stuck lately. It's amazing how we play an event over and over, thinking we will be able to fix it or hoping we won't repeat the same mistake. I keep turning over the end of my marriage. Asking questions like, "How did it happen", and "How can someone be so cold". As the divorce was taking place, I was in shock, not able to process the whole picture. I wondered why he put most of my stuff in the garage and to insisted on keeping my snow shoes, bike, and other outdoorsy items. All of these items were made especially for women?

Eight months later and my mind is finally able to see through the pain and put the pieces together. I'm trying to get the full picture of what happened. I now have a part of the puzzle. I believe he started an affair on one of his business trips, or possibly before. Instead of rescheduling his trip to Philadelphia so he would be able to attend my brothers wedding, he insisted it was critical that he fly out for the weekend. As soon as he arrived home he dropped the divorce bomb on me. What had happened?

Seeing pictures of him with his new girlfriend, I now understand that he wanted to keep my things so she would be able to use them. Some of their pictures together are of her drinking out of my camping coffee cup, sitting in my chair, using my sleeping bag, and petting my dog. I have been replaced.

I admit that she seems a better fit as far as common interests, but it still hurts that he was able to quickly move on with his life. No consequences for being an adulter and for the manner in which he discarded me. Eleven years of marriage and I was replaced in an instant.

Hoping to understand and heal. I may never understand. But I know I was able to maintain who I am under extreme pressure and handle the situation with dignity and grace. I enjoy redefining myself into hopefully a stronger person, and I know, with time, that I will be able to trust another person again.

Running to Quiet the Mind

Feeling the air push past me as I run, helps to quiet my mind. Pockets of cold air swirl around my legs as I run down into a ravine along the dirt trail, but quickly dissipates when I hit pavement again. I run along the back of homes which line the mountain. Wildflowers are in bloom and I can smell the pungent fragrance of honeysuckle and rose. Sprinklers dust the perfectly manicured yards and the sound of their movement gives me a feeling of quaint familiarity. The simple joy of living in suburbia. The view along the bench is stunning, as the growing lights twinkle in the distance. I can still see the faint outline of the city as the sun dips behind the mountains. Running helps me to be in the moment, giving a sense of peace and a feeling that "everything is right with the world". And today it was.

A Light at the End of the Tunnel

I've thought long and hard about what to write and how to start this blog.(Well okay, fifteen minutes over a whole bag of popcorn) I admit it's somewhat strange on my part to focus on Stanley Tucci, because he is a "movie star", but recently I have been through some devastating life experiences and have wanted to look for a light at the end of the tunnel.

In a nutshell, yes I used the word nutshell, I was married for eleven years. It was great. Fabulous! I loved having a companion to share my hopes and ideas. I was looking towards the future, when I came home and found my things in the garage. Apparently my marriage wasn't going as well as I thought.

I lost everything in a matter of a month. My house, my things, my marriage, my belief system, and even my damn dog.

Swimming in the dark hole of which was now my life, I needed hope, something to pull me out. I had been crying for hours one night and was mulling over my broken heart, when my mother, who had been constantly at my side, asked me what would make me happy. I laughed and choked on my tears and unexpectedly burst out with "Stanley Tucci and New York". My mother laughed in surprise and confusion. I explained that besides, thinking he was gorgeous, I also admired his creativity, acting, and his ability to push through some tough times himself....losing his wife and raising his three children. As far as New York goes, that would be a cool place to visit. The art "Mecca".