Even Marilyn's Kiss Will Not Do...
So, when I stopped at Starbuck's for a half-caf Americano, just 1/2 mile from my studio, and my car wouldn't start, I was grateful that the Divamobile konked in a safe place. I am grateful for the AAA dude, who elegantly tripped the starter and told me to not pass Go. Go straight to my mechanic. I am grateful that my mechanic's cologne smells of The Old Country~tabac & bergamot and that he tells me, Sit down, eat Danish cinnamon pastries (which I don't for those of you who are watching). Even grateful for the familial hug when I emerged from the car, the trace of tabac left on my cheek or in my hair (I will spend the better part of the day figuring out to no avail where the scent has attached itself to my being~ tabac, Old Country, heaven.)
|Photo credit: Matthieu Solvaing|
You mean sitting here against the pumpkin-colored wall is not enough for you? The black-framed portrait of Marilyn gazing down from the wall, from her pillow, as if she would like to give you the best, reddest, softest kiss the world has ever known? Even this splash of homoerotica, Marilyn with her beauty mark on the wall here at the mechanic, wanting to kiss you, the slight silver light reflected across her elbow from the overhead neon, not enough? I can and do deal with a lot but wasting my life and my light and these precious child-free hours because a little metal box in the engine isn't grinding and catching and starting as it should? Nothing metallic about this lining. No buttery pastry, no glossy champs-élysées spread, no smear of stardust across the starlet's lower lip can kiss this waste of a morning away.
|At Seize the Dazzle Studio, my happy place. xoxo|
|PS--Had a chance to break out the watercolors the next day at the studio! (Happy dance for a few painted moments!)|