when words fail me, which is often, I paint. When words work for me and are available on time, I am surprised.

Friday, October 13, 2006

Boobs, Secrets, Clapton

Tate is finally asleep, I have too many things to write about; getting boobs, current culture, and secrets. I am going to attempt to tell these three stories in as few words as possible. My ITT professor says the average time a person spends viewing anyones website is about 30 secs so I anm trying to stick to the facts mam, just the facts.
1) Getting Boobs: nearly 20 years ago I made an exodus from my little rented hovel in my 1971 Chevy Impala from Northern Ca. to El Paso TX. Avi was only 2 years old, Wiley was nearly 4. I inheirited 5g"s from my grandfathers' estate. I had met him a few years prior to his death, I was not impressed. I took the money and packed the Chevy with everything that was going; we had no clue where we would end up except there were some other apprentices in the midwifery clinic on the Mexican border who were willing to host us temporarily. I was running away, again. I gave my antique sewing machine to a friend of a friend. Her name is Leslie I think. She said, and I remember as if it was yesterday,"Not your sewing machine, don't give it away. If you ever, ever, want it back, just ask, you can always have it back." It's a heavy machine, it weighs 49 lbs. It wasn't a necessity and if it didn't fit in the car, it wasn't going. I loved that turquois machine. I sewed heavy quilts on it for my babies using old jeans and my one maternity dress for each son. My ex-mother in law gave it to me, she didn't use it. I loved it's weight, it's rhythm, it's smell. Babies sleeping finally, I would stitch together any scraps I could find. It was art and the sound sooothed my soul. I gave it away,another sacrifice.
Sixteen years later, I have a fairly inexpensive Singer. I sell my commercial real eastate in the small Virginia town I operated my hair salon in to my ex"partner", what a looser. I built a salon in my new house, I spent alot of time doing the things I could never find the time to do. I sewed alot. Curtains, clothes, nothing from a pattern ever. I made phone calls, to California. I found Leslie, she still had my old machine. She said she would send it to me, but she didn't. Three more years. August past, Tate and I went to California and Oregon. We went for vacation, I wanted to show him a Redwood tree. We visited family and we had a blast. On the fourth day of our journey from SF to Central Oregon, we landed in Willits Ca. That was my first home with my 2 babies. It was a tiny bungalow, 3/4 mile outside of a rural hippie Ca. town. I miss it alot, or I used to. Anyway, we drove by our old house. I called my old best friend and landlord, Christopher Moore. He acted as if I had just seen him yesterday. I hadn't seen him in 20 years. I called him, "Hey Christopher, this is Stacy"
"Hey Stacy."
"I cant find your house."
"Why not?"
"Because it's been 20 years since I've been there"
Oh yeah.
Tate and I had ground to cover, the Oregon coast, Redwoods, my brother in Oregon, my baby nephew I was finally getting to meet and my 10 year old neice I hadn't seen for 8 years. I left the sewing machine to fate, and to Christopher.
A few days after we returned hiome, I was getting back to the old routine and called Avi. His phone was disconnected. I decided to drive by his hi tech job as a parking lot attendant in Charlottesville to see if he was there and to let him know that I would do what I could to get his phone back on. Always a juggling act, the money thing. Avi wasn't working that morning. I caught sight of a dressmakers' mannekin in the parking lot adjacent to Avi lot. I drove back around through the crowded city streets.
"Hey, whats up with the mannekin?" I asked one of Av's esteemed colleagues.
"I don't know, it's been there for a few days"
I parked.
I walked over to the mannekin; she was in mint condition and was standing at the service entrance of a hipster student pub. Someone had written "BOOBS" on her chest with a ball point pen.. She was headless and armless for that manner, as all dressmakers' mannekins are.
I followed some young dude, who was obviously suffering with a severe hangover, "What's up with BOOBS?"
"I dunno, been there for a few days now."
"Mind if I take her?"
I put Boobs in the trunk of my tiny car. I took her home. She guards my sewing machine, the old turquois one. I LOVE the way it humms. I LOVE the way it smells!!!
Secrets and Clapton, later. I'm tired.

1 comment:

Michelle O'Neil said...

Yay! I am so happy you got it back! That is the coolest!Glad you have Boobs to keep you company! :)

I admire people that know how to sew!