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.