Saturday, August 11, 2012

Crunch Time

We had a party to attend last night.  I was excited about it, because it has been ages since I have gotten to dress up.  I've become so relaxed in my daily appearance that my children get concerned and confused if I have on even the smallest amount of makeup: "Why do you have on makeup? Where are we going?  What do we have to do?"  So, last night I put their heads in a spin with a full makeover: complete with a glossy, straight waterfall of hair down my back.

Ka-Boom! That is when the downpour came!  Buckets of rain.  I looked at my satin dress, my flowing hair and my heels.  Hmm.  I cursed Mother Nature a bit and then started pulling out my trench coat, cheetah rain boots and green polka dot umbrella.  My heels would have to wait a little longer for the party.

We planned to attend an event before going:  it was an art show at Gilbert Stuart Museum. (  I had put a few paintings in it, since I am starting my journey into the RI art scene on my tippy toes.  I had a split second thought of not going, dreading sloshing through the puddles and huddling under shelter.  But since this was one of my first show participations, I really wanted to be there to see my work on the walls.

So I geared up, grabbed my heels, sloshed to the car and my husband and I went:  me dressed in my beautiful floral satin cocktail dress and cheetah rain boots. Not quite the ensemble I envisioned, but I had no choice, really.  

I loved seeing all the different art:  there were so many different styles and I truly appreciated the beauty in all of them.  Of course, I also loved seeing my paintings among them.  At almost the same time, my husband and I saw a red sticker on my apple painting called "Crunch Time."  Ever the pessimist, my first thought was that surely there was something wrong:  they must've put that on the wrong painting.  I could not have sold a painting on the first night!  I was so nervous and befuddled that my husband double checked to make sure for me that I had, in fact, sold a painting!

I got to meet the woman who bought it.  She told me that when she saw it, it spoke to her immediately and she bought it on the spot.  She talked with me of its delicious color and the lusciousness of the apples. Her deep appreciation for my work left me awestruck and hovering somewhere between Wonderland and Heaven.

The sun came out, so I didn't have to make a mad dash for the car and I could slip out of my trench coat.  In the car, on the way to the party, I switched my shoes and checked myself in the mirror.  There with my humidity ravaged body: frizzy hair, swollen feet and a rain spotted dress, I felt more beautiful than ever knowing that something I created made someone else so happy.  The woman who purchased my painting  gave me more than just a payment.  She presented me a gift of encouragement and a little shot of self confidence, both of which are much more glorious than pencil straight hair.

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